Chapter 11: Navigating the Maze (Angharad)

c/w: Human/humanoid trafficking & species/race-based exhibitionism – not sexual.

(~***~)

The rest of the first day in the grand and ominous garden the children explored. They discovered a vine-covered boundary wall surrounding the garden. When they came too close to it, the now-familiar cloudy feeling would start taking over their minds. It was clear: this place was beautiful, and endlessly more pleasant than their last cage, but it was a cage nonetheless.

While they explored, they had few opportunities to speak to the other residents of the garden, though they caught glimpses of them. As they crossed the bridge, the head of a massive turtle had broken the surface of the placid water and surprised the youngsters. It had considered them with one shifting eye, then retreated back into the depths of the lake with a deep grumble.

In another section of the garden among a collection of orchids, a deer with four horns had stepped onto their path then bounded away. Later, in a grove of pine trees twisted like aged men the three white foxes from their ship had woven through the trees in front of them, laughing and teasing. They reminded Angharad of Xiaoqing in the way that they seemed sweet until they suddenly became a little nasty.

Disheartened and tired, the children returned to their shelter among the ginkgoes. They did not know where else to go. When they crossed back over the stone bridge, Xiaoqing was nowhere to be seen.

While they were gone someone had left a round wooden contraption, some bowls, and two pairs of sticks on the red wood table in their hut. Ginnar grabbed the little round handle at the top and lifted. A savory smell escaped along with some steam. The round basket-like container was filled with steamed dumplings (although they did not learn this word until later).

The children's mouths watered at the smell of food. They did not know how long it had been since they'd eaten last. As they did not understand why the chopsticks had been provided, the two youngsters began eating dumplings with their hands. They devoured the entire container, licking their fingers clean when they were done. They were full. They were tired. It was getting dark and they didn't see any candles or lamps they could use. So the children did the only thing that seemed to be left: they climbed onto the same stiff mattress they had woken on that morning to go to bed.

Angharad tried to rest her mind but found that she could not. She could feel Ginnar tossing and turning on the other side of the mattress, so she guessed that he was still awake, too.

"Ginnar?" she said quietly.

"What?" he grumbled. He wasn't even annoyed, really. He just thought sounding grumbly is what a dwarf should do.

"What do you think they want from us?" she asked.

"How should I know?" he shot back. But she got him thinking. "Maybe – maybe the people here are just like the plants and statues and things. Here for people to look at."

"So it is a people garden?" Angharad said, confused and disgusted. "We did not actually see anyone visiting and looking at anything, though," she mused.

"Maybe it is only for the king," Ginnar said. "Xiaoqing said it is the 'Imperial" menagerie. Imperial means it belongs to an emperor."

"My grandfather was a king. Do you think if I told them it would make a difference?" Angharad mused.

"He is not anymore?" Ginnar asked, a little confused. "Is he dead?"

"No, silly," Angharad replied. She wasn't sure she understood what 'dead' was to Ginnar. She knew there was something different about it for the peoples here in Middle Earth… But Thranduil was not a shade being cared for by Mandos right now. He was in his body still. "There are no elf kings anymore. In Valinor only the Valar rule."

"So, a bunch of people are there who used to be kings and queens and princes and lords and now they are just nothing?" Ginnar was confused by this idea.

Angharad didn't know how else to explain it. She had never thought about what it was like for some of the older elves in Valinor before.

"We are just us. We are just the elves all together living our lives." Angharad was starting to feel homesick.

"I never asked them about it – the old ones. Maybe I should have. My grandfather might be my favorite person in the world. Just because… he listens when I talk and he looks at all the things I bring him to show him from the woods. Not because he is a king, or was a king. But I would not tell my mother and father he is my favorite," she added hurriedly, realizing what she'd said.

"My mam is my favorite person in the whole world," Ginnar said. It was a little easier to admit it in the dark. "She always lets me watch when she is making something and shows me how to do it too. And she gives the greatest biggest hugs."

Angharad smiled though no one could see. "Elves do not hug very much, but my mother does sometimes," Angharad said.

Ginnar suddenly felt a little sad. "Your da does not hug you, ever?" He had always thought Legolas sounded warm for an elf in the stories he'd heard.

"Well, maybe sometimes. More when I was younger. It just is not what elves do. We touch fёa though and he does that all the time. But maybe I will try it again if I ever find them – embracing my father. I think I understand why they are nice now." she said.

Ginnar had no idea what she was talking about, touching spirits. Elves were strange, he thought. But he found he was glad for Angharad's company.

"Sit up," he said suddenly. Angharad sat up quickly, wondering if there was some danger she had not sensed. Ginnar stood up on the bed, putting his face just a little higher than hers. They could only see the dim outlines of each other in the murky hut. Ginnar gave her a great big squeeze, pinning her arms to her sides and Angharad yelped.

"Dwarfs give the best hugs, see?" Ginnar said with finality. Angharad laughed and hugged him back.

"I am glad to be your friend, Ginnar," she said. She really was. It felt that much more bearable, being in this strange place with a friend.

"Do not get used to it, though!" Ginnar said loudly as he sat back down on the bed. Angharad thought maybe she was getting the hang of these rough dwarf moods.

"No, then we would get as soft as these pillows," she said. She experimentally, and lightly, hit Ginnar on the arm with a pillow.

"You better watch what you start, elf," he rumbled through a grin. He picked up one of the pillows and thumped her with it, not bothering to be so gentle. "Dwarfs only have mighty pillow fights."

Angharad shrieked and hit him back again. She darted away as he aimed another fluffy blow at her.

"Only if you can hit me, dwarf," she tried heckling him back. "Elves only have fast pillow fights."

(~***~)

In the morning someone finally came to talk to the children. After being measured by a tailor (What for? Who knew.), a teacher sat the children down and started writing characters and drilling them in Eastron. After a whole morning of it, the children ate the food offered to them in a daze before they were separated to attend different lessons.

When they protested in panic, the translator assured them they would be back at the hut tonight. The man had begun to feel badly for the children. Clearly the others' company had been their only comfort of late. The translator, like everyone in the palace, was fearful of being punished for a misstep, but he began trying to think of ways he could help relieve the burden on these little ones of being alone and captive in a strange land.

Angharad was whisked off to a music lesson. Her new teacher made her stand and repeat line after line of a song Angharad barely understood, while the teacher played an instrument the child had never seen before. It didn't take long before she understood she was expected to memorize this song, though what for she had no idea.

Ginnar was taken to a workshop where a few adult dwarfs were working on jade carvings. The adult escorting him pushed him up to one of the dwarfs and said something in Eastron that Ginner didn't catch, then left.

"So," the adult dwarf said in Westron (to Ginnar's relief). "They're even taking kids now. Fiends. Well I'm supposed to teach you jade, boy. Ever worked it before?"

Ginnar nodded and started to explain what he'd seen before. He was so happy with his new lessons he could forget sometimes that he was not here of his own free will.

So began the children's new routine: language in the morning with the strict teacher who would swat them if they didn't pay attention or got too many things wrong. Food, then separate lessons in the afternoon. Ginnar was only taught jade work, but Angharad went for both music and dancing.

As Ginnar had begun to enjoy jade classes, Angharad started looking forward to dance. She had not studied it in Valinor, but she thought it was fun. She liked to be moving, and she liked the elegant ways they taught her to move her matching silk fans. Most of all, she liked the look on the human teachers' faces when they would show her a difficult leap or toss with the fan and she would execute it in a single try.

But an undercurrent of fear seemed to run through the hearts of everyone they encountered. They all seemed reluctant to offer anything to the children that was strictly outside of their assigned duties. And yet, many of them did push boundaries out of compassion for Ginnar and 'Anhe' as she was called. They had interacted with many of the menagerie residents before, but none of them had been so young before. One language teacher dared to give them a set of dominoes and show them how to play, loudly giving them the assignment of playing only in Eastron so they could get more practice.

After Angharad had gotten in trouble repeatedly for climbing trees, crawling through plants, and messing up her clothes, she had explained to their exasperated translator that this is just what elves – and children - do. A set of simple play clothes for each child arrived mysteriously at the hut the next week, which they could wear in the evenings and get dirty. One of her afternoons each week was replaced with shadowing master gardeners through the menagerie, which she loved even though she was strictly limited to speaking in Eastron for practice. She even identified an insect infestation in one of the ginkgoes that the gardeners could not yet detect, saving the great tree and its neighbors and earning the gardeners' respect.

The translator they met the first day was the most helpful grown up, but he was constrained in what he could do without being sent away from them completely. If they needed something or had a problem, they learned quickly that they should bring it to him discreetly and he would pull strings to try find a quiet solution. He was also the most helpful in explaining important cultural cues.

They had seen Xiaoqing again a few times and tried to approach her, but she was not interested in them now that she was under no threat of the spirit knife.

"What would yer mam think," Ginnar accused her in frustration, "refusing to help children in the same bind as you?"

The snake woman laughed a chiming laugh and with contempt replied, "I would not know. I am a serpent. I was born from an egg and emerged in the world ready to face it without any guidance or protection. I am sure you can also do so if you make the effort. Besides, silly boy, it is not in the nature of demons to help others. Our people are each for themselves. Do not expect more from us or you will be disappointed."

Left to their own devices the children explored the garden and kept each other company. They ate the dinners left at their table, they played dominoes, they told stories of their homes and families, and they wondered together about what their future held. In the darkness of the hut they would whisper ideas to escape, but they came to nothing: not only could they find no way to release their bonds to get over the wall, but they had no idea what they would find on the other side or how to handle it.

Finally, a morning came when their routine suddenly changed. Instead of lessons, their translator and a few servants woke them early and dressed them in exceedingly fine clothing they had never seen before. Angharad was duly impressed by the silk robes she was dressed in. The pink and green fabric, embroidered with ornate lotus flowers, were as fine as any she had ever worn in Valinor, though the style was different. One of the maids tied half Angharad's hair up, securing it with a long pin adorned with a pink flower.

As she was dressed, Angharad's music teacher arrived and drilled her in the songs she had memorized so far, as well as the moves to the fan dance she had learned. It began to dawn on Angharad that was expected to perform these things – maybe today even. For who, she wondered?

Ginnar's outfit was quite a bit simpler, though the cloth was still fine. He was dressed in a tunic that was secured by buttons on one shoulder, with loose trousers underneath. One of the dwarfs who had been tutoring him in jade work stumped over unhappily, dressed in fine clothing of his own. He handed a few small jade pieces to Ginnar that represented his best work to date.

"What is happening?" the young dwarf protested as a servant brushed his unruly hair, paying little attention to whether he was pulling too hard or not.

"The Emperor is coming to the garden to inspect its new residents today, boy. They told me to show your progress in jade training, but I do not think you are the main attraction," the older dwarf said gruffly as he gestured towards Angharad.

"Me?" she said in surprise. "Why does the Emperor want to see me?"

"You are the only elf that has ever been seen in the Far East – ever – to my knowledge. You are an exotic curiosity: a rare jewel in this collection of 'creatures' as they call us," the older dwarf said. He was watching his tone, wary of the men around them in case they punished him for speaking in a language they could not monitor.

A few nervous looking guards herded Xiaoqing and the fox women over, spirit knives hovering ominously in their hands. Xiaoqing's blouse was exquisite silk that carefully accented her glittering scales below the waist. Her shining black hair had been arranged in ornate knots and gold ornaments. The fox ladies were in their human form, each in a matching white gown in the Eastern style, with similarly fantastic hairstyles. Each demon's outfit was completed by a pair of impossibly long silk sleeves, which Angharad thought looked impractical.

"My goodness, babies," Xiaoqing sang out. "Aren't you looking pretty today? Ready for your big debut, Anhe: flower of the West? Every noble who has been in the garden lately has been talking about it."

Angharad was starting to feel nervous. Why hadn't anyone told her all this singing and dancing was to perform? In front of the Emperor, no less? And… all the nobles? How many nobles were there? She was thinking back over everything she had learned, hoping she could remember everything. She had never even sung at one of the big feasts in Valinor – only little family gatherings in the Silvan Quarter where she knew everyone. And just as she had started thinking maybe this place wasn't too bad, for a prison.

Xiaoqing watched the confusion, nerves, and resentment pass over the girl's face in stages. The anger, she understood. She was not looking forward to performing like a trained monkey either. The dance instructor had had a difficult time choreographing an elegant and traditional long-sleeved dance with four uncooperative demon ladies. But the spirit knives were very strong threats and, in the end, it had been easier to dance than to risk punishment.

"Don't worry, we'll warm up your audience for you," the serpent woman said, her voice dripping with contempt.

Angharad glanced over at her and realized this was a twisted expression of empathy.

"What'll they do if I won't do it?" she whispered to Xiaoqing when the translators were all busy with something else.

"You're welcome to try it," Xiaoqing scoffed. "But from what you've told me of your people, I expect those vicious little blades would be nearly as bad for you as they would be for me. I believe we are not as different as some may think, elf."

Angharad did not have more time to think it over. The group of men and women who were in control of the situation began to move as a group, ushering the children and the demons down a path towards the grand pavilion at the center of the garden.

Ginnar fell into step next to Angharad, whispering to her, "All our teachers look as nervous as you do." When she looked more carefully, she could see it was true. The music and dancing teacher's face looked especially rigid, which Angharad had come to understand was a signal of emotional distress.

Who was this Emperor, whose servants were so terrified to disappoint him, and who collected people like rare gems? Whoever he was, he was waiting for them.

(~***~)

Footnotes:

In the order of appearance, the other creatures in this chapter are inspired by: Ao the turtle, a fuzhu such as from the Shanhai jing, a fox spirit (I gather there could be multiple meanings to these), and some various demons.

The Legend of the White Snake, and in particular The White Snake and The Sorcerer (film 2011) continue to be important influences.