Chapter 25 : The Cave of the Golden Rose II
o
o
Ecthelion lay on his bed, his eyes staring at the walls covered with arms and coats of arms, or at the mouldings of the white ceiling. There was only the sound of rumours from the Small Market below, and the gurgling of water from the canal.
A first painful paw landed on his abdomen, then a second. Why would the Cat go around the bed when he could cross the room diagonally, passing over Ecthelion ? And the animal weighed a good twenty pounds.
He passed slowly, as if sadistically accentuating each of his steps, disdainful of the human body which by accident and through his own fault was lying across his august path.
Ecthelion's eyes widened.
"By the Sickle of the Valar !"
He swung the cat to the floor, which produced a crashing sound mixed with electric meows of protest and overplayed suffering.
The feline stood up, his hair bristling. He looked at Ecthelion. Who was also bristling. Ecthelion looked at him.
The Cat turned his head nobly away in an injured pose.
"How dare you strike a poor beast of the good Lord !"
"When you have explained to me why you do not return to your master, since he no longer lives here !"
"But it is warmer here," replied the Cat.
"Ah, I'm not surprised. You only think about your comfort... And all you do is sleeping and eating ! From now on, I won't keep you in my house anymore !"
The animal jumped up on the bed and began to shed big tears.
"And how shall I fulfil my divine mission, which Ulmo revealed to me ? I must watch over the destiny of Gondolin !"
"Tell that to Olwë !"
"Please, my good lord !"
"One more word, and I'll nail you to the gate !"
Frightened, the Cat runs away.
"I'm bor'd..." sighed Belin, sitting on the big stone by the door of the peasant house. "I were bor'd in the spring... And now I'm bor'd again... There's nothin' to do here but groom donkeys and bake bread."
"What's wrong with you now, doing that pig's head ?" asked Robert, who had just returned from the fields.
"I'm bor'd," replied Belin.
I'm back where I started, he thought bitterly.
And he remembered how it all began.
-oOoOo-
Six months before.
The young human lay in the grass of a daisy-strewn meadow, his eyes closed, feeling only the spring air and the immensity of the blue sky that faced him. It was the only way he could get out of his narrow life, to imagine that this sky was the same for those who lived behind the mountains that closed the valley.
Since he was six years old, he had wondered what lay behind the mountains of Echoriath. He had asked the elves around him, but they had been very nebulous. The words 'peace' and 'safety' were always repeated. Here you are at peace, and safe.
His brothers had always laughed at his dreams of travel and adventure, just as they laughed at him wielding his wooden sword to fight imaginary orcs. If they would at least allow him to go to the city during the festivals ! But they said he was too young for that. So Belin just looked at the white fairy town from afar, with its turrets and flags. He imagined the king. They said he was very tall – his head would have hit the ceiling of their house ; that he was always dressed in great ivory robes embroidered with gold, and that garnets were set in his crown. He also had a daughter, a princess of marvellous beauty with invincible feet. And a great constable, Lord Glorfindel, who was as handsome as the princess – or so he had inferred from what he was told.
Ah, how he longed to walk in that white city with its immaculate pavement, its sparkling fountains, its thousand nightingales and its thousand musics ! A magical city where one did not have to fetch water from the well, but it flowed everywhere, drawn by bridges, canals and underground corridors, right into the houses ! How he would also have liked to talk to the knights of the great king, whose armour was said to be as beautifully decorated as embroidered clothes, and whose swords were so wonderful to look at ! And to see to see the great shining elves from Heaven, who, according to his brothers, shimmered in the night like fireflies !
And while he lay there dreaming with his eyes closed, he did not see that his cat had come. The pet was walking all around his body, as if examining him.
"Why did I has to be born on this farm, near this mille ? And now here I'm, all alone with my brothers and cousins ! Fate is not in my favour, for sure."
The Cat, who heard all this, but made as if he did not, said to him with a grave and serious air :
"Do not thus afflict yourself, my good master ; you have nothing else to do but to give me some clothes, and get a pair of shoes made for me, so that I can walk on the cobbles, and you shall see that you have not so bad a portion as you imagine."
Belin opened his eyes suddenly and sat up.
"I haven't been drinkin' ! Or else I'm goin' mad ! My cat, whom I've always knowed since I were a little boy, is talkin' to me now ?"
"My master, all these years I have waited for my time", said the Cat. "Today you are almost an adult, and mature enough to face your destiny. Look !"
And at these words he straightened up on his hind legs, and standing up, curtsied.
"Holy Elbereth !" exclaimed Belin.
"I am a great cat wizard, and according to my prophecies, you have a great role to play in the future of the Beleriand kingdoms. It is even possible that by your actions you will save the world... But for this purpose, you will have to follow my advice."
"I don't believe you !" replied the human. "I'm sure I'm dreamin'."
"Believe me, you must !" insisted the Cat, coming closer. "Don't you want to see King Turgon ?"
"Oh yes, I do !"
"Don't you want to meet Love ?"
Belin nodded twice rather than once.
"According to my visions, you will marry Princess Idril, the king's daughter !"
"Me, to marry a fairy princess ? That's quite ridiculous, I think."
"I'm telling you !"
"But what should I do ?"
"First of all, get me a nice ruff and some pretty shoes."
That evening, Belin brought the Cat a ruff that he had sewn himself out of a white sheet and little slippers that he had worn as a baby.
"It's a bit rustic," opined the Cat, "but it should suffice for now. And now pack your bags, we need to get to town as soon as possible, which is tomorrow morning !"
Belin made his preparations in secret. He unfolded a scarf, slipped in a snack, a bar of soap, some handkerchiefs and a spare tunic. He tied it all up and hid the bundle in the barn.
His brothers went to the fields early in the morning. At dawn, when they were out of sight, the teenager took a flask and a walking stick and ran to the barn to get his bundle, which he tied to the end of his stick. Then he set off, light-hearted and hopeful, his cat leaping at his side.
It was May. There were flowers on the trees, and nature was fragrant. With his bundle perched at the end of his staff, Belin walked briskly, his eyes fixed on the elven city, which grew larger and larger as the morning wore on. Often the peasant elves could be heard singing as they worked in the fields, some even playing the rebec.
"If you're a wizard, why did you not make your own clothes appear ?"
"That ? That's good for second-rate magicians !" replied the Cat, sniffling.
Belin, who despite his naivety, was not gullible, gave him a suspicious look.
To say that the city conformed to the dreams he had of it was not fair. It surpassed them. The light that seemed to exude from the whole immense and continuous assembly of white stones created a kind of white fog similar to the excess light when you open your eyes at dawn. In this pale mist, Gondolin seemed both distant and more real than the rest of the green valley.
Everything was maintained, there was no rubbish in the streets, and every detail was thought out and perfected, from the arrangement of flower beds and shrubs according to their shape and colour to the designs on the window pilasters.
It was a whole world turned towards the aspiration of beauty.
Like the embroidery and woodcarving that primitive Humans used to do, but deepened, sublimated into skill and will by the multiplication of time that elves had.
"Why are you standing there like a fool ?" one of the royal sergeants suddenly asked him.
"It's beaut'ful, for sure, sir !" said Belin.
"What is beautiful ?"
"This citee !"
Filled with pride, the sergeant puffed himself up and smiled.
"Isn't it ?"
The miller's son continued on his way, towards the turret of the Golden Flower House, his bundle perched upon the end of his stick.
In the meantime he was amazed at the variety of elves he came across. All of them were very tall, but some were not so tall, and others were much taller, sometimes exceeding him by two heads – often these elves had a special aura. In fact, there were really all kinds of elves : elves with round, pointed hats, or scarves, metal hoops, wreaths of leaves or flowers ; many elves with black hair, others with only brown or silver hair, some with golden blond hair. Elves with small noses, elves with large noses, or round, hooked or trumpet-shaped ; elves with all sorts of faces – although they were always harmonious and never deformed. Elves who sang as they walked, others who whistled, others who argued. Elves who were shoemakers, elves who sold gold, others who sold clothes, toys, musical instruments, weapons, food ; elf-architects who controlled the construction of a house, looking serious and concentrated ; sweaty, bare-chested worker elves ; scribe elves hurrying along with scrolls of parchment under their arms ; child elves playing marbles in a corner of the yard ; blacksmith elves and soldier elves.
The young human even saw a sedan chair pass by, its weary bearers grimacing. From the window of the cabin protruded a male hand, each finger of which bore a ring adorned with a large precious stone.
"Faster than that, you twits !" suddenly exclaimed the figure to whom the hand belonged.
"Yes, Lord Egalmoth," replied the elf-valets.
Belin frowned ; here was one who thought he could do anything.
"Are we still far from the House of the Golden Flower ?" he asked his cat.
"No, we're not ! We just have to go down that alley now."
The barracks guards would not let him in at first ; he had to state, as the Cat had advised him, that he had something to show the Constable, and he pointed to the animal.
"A human acrobat... He probably wants to be hired as the king's fool," opined one of the two sentries.
"Go ahead. But don't get your hopes up."
With his heart pounding, Belin finally entered the courtyard of a beautiful building with green painted columns. The courtyard was deserted. There was only an elf polishing a dozen boots, to whom Belin asked where Sir Glorfindel was.
"Lord Laurefindil ? You will find him in the second courtyard, where we train. You won't have any trouble recognising him, he's blond and the only one wearing his hair loose."
The human thanked him, then passed under the archway that separated the two inner courts.
In the second courtyard, Glorfindel, assisted by another brown elf, was watching the training of his regiment. They were both standing to the side.
Belin shyly approached and looked at him more closely.
God ! He was as noble and chivalrous as he had thought him to be, Lord Glorfindel ! Hair like a field of buttercups, all curly and long to the waist ! Eyes the colour of lavender, shining like falots, and armour all in gold !
With the sun pulsing in her hair, the elf turned to him, towering over him by a head.
"Who are you ?"
"I am Belin the Blond, your lordship, and I would like to speak to you 'bout one thin'. "
"A human ? I hope you have a good reason for disturbing me."
"I know not, milord," Belin admitted, suddenly losing his composure.
But Glorfindel's face relaxed when he saw his little companion dressed and adorned.
"Oh !" he exclaimed. "How cute it is !"
On what weaknesses of character should his plans not be based ! Such were the thoughts of the Cat.
Belin knew he had to use this moment to tell his story. He explained, as his cat had ordered, that his father Erik had died recently – which was true. That he had left his three sons a legacy of a mill and a small farm – which was still true. But he added that the eldest had inherited the mill, the youngest the farm, and he only the cat – which was not true. So he had to find a job. He knew how to look after animals, and he was not averse to becoming a soldier either...
Glorfindel was touched by this story, and in fact it came along just at the right time, because Ecthelion of the Fountain was to go on a mission in his place, to rescue Prince Orodreth, but he had no squire left. The previous one had died in an atrocious way and no elf wanted to replace him, considering the place cursed (and Ecthelion impossible).
"I may have something for you, if you know how to handle horses."
"Oh yes Sir !"
"Elemmakil," said Glorfndel to the elf who accompanied him. "Take him to the Fountain Barracks. And see if he can do the job for Ecthelion."
Elemmakil looked down on the young human, as one would look at a foolish idea.
"Are you sure ?"
"We have to find him a squire."
Half an hour later, Elemmakil and Belin were in the courtyard of the House of the Fountain – the Cat had stayed with Glorfindel for a while to cuddle, then followed the others and climbed onto a ledge to observe his protégé.
"The Lord of the Fountain is not here ?" Elemmakil asked.
"No, he won't be here for another hour."
"Well..."
Elemmakil led Belin to the stables.
"You see that shield hanging on the wall ? It represents the coat of arms of Lord Ecthelion of the Foutain, who needs a squire. He will return in an hour, in the meantime you can groom his horse, which is this one."
He pointed to the very large white horse in the stall. It looked as if it had not been looked after for at least two weeks. Since Ecthelion's previous squire had died, it had been done by random soldiers when they had time, or by Ecthelion himself.
"All right, my lord."
"However, I can't stay here and wait for an hour. So when Lord Ecthelion returns, you tell him you've come for the squire's position. "
Belin nodded. Elemmakil left.
The teenager was left alone with the thoroughbred, anxious about what lay ahead. He stroked the horse, which seemed to like him. This reassured him, so he set to work.
When the hour was up, he had largely finished, and cleaned the stall as well. Then he sat down in a shady corner on a cube of hay. Outside, the day was fading.
He waited for half an hour. Then another. He fell asleep.
It was the sound of a voice that woke him up, or rather the music of a voice. Belin had never heard such a beautiful voice, even among the singers of his elven neighbours. It was so smooth... soft as velvet, but also pure as mountain ice.
"Who prepared my horse ? For once it's not pig work."
"This is the human brought by Elemmakil, my lord."
Belin opened his eyes. The elf with the beautiful voice stood before the horse. And high and noble as was Elemmakil, greater and more lordly was Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountains, at that time the young commander of his regiment.
Yet he did not shine with an angelic brilliance like the god-like lord Glorfindel. Moreover, his hair was so black that it blended into the darkness. But his eyes glowed with an inner fire that resembled the stars of the night, and his armour was silver like the moon.
"Oh, but that must be him," said the subordinate, pointing at Belin.
"Him ?" whispered Ecthelion to the other elf. "He looks like an abandoned cocker spaniel..."
"Excuse me, sire, I fell asleep," Belin stammered.
He curtsied.
"I am Belin the Fair, son of Erik the miller, and I've come for the position of esquire. "
"You have a funny way of talking. That said, you seem to know how to handle a horse... Have you ever fought ?"
"I fought my brothers, sir... When I argued with them..."
Ecthelion looked at him with annoyance.
"But I'm very good at catching chickens !" the farmer added, trying to correct himself.
The argument did not seem to convince the elven lord.
"Anyway, I guess I have no choice," Ecthelion muttered. "I'm going on a mission tomorrow morning. A very dangerous mission, over the mountains, far to the east. If you are willing to accompany me and risk your life, I'll hire you."
Belin's eyes lit up.
"Beyond the mountains of the valley ?"
"Yes. Near Lake Helevorn. We'll have to go through Ard-Galen to reach Lothlann, and then enter Thargelion, in the kingdom of Caranthir. There will be all kinds of monsters to face. Trolls and vampires. Maybe orcs too."
All these strange and distant names, the human's suddenly frozen face seemed to absorb them like a greedy sponge.
"Oh yes, my lord ! I want to go !"
"Very well. I'll find you a horse, then you'll sleep in the barracks tonight. We'll leave tomorrow at dawn."
-oOoOo-
Yes, that was how he had left his life as a simple farmer...
"The cows aren't goin' to milk themselves, blockhead !" said Robert suddenly.
"I'll milk them all right," replied the young man, "but first I'll finish this thing."
He looked absorbed and was carving a piece of wood with his opinel.
"What's that ?"
"A gift for milord Ecthelion."
"That's somethin' else !"
Robert put his bucket down.
"Your Lord Ecthelion, he doesn't want to see you anymore, I think. "
"That's not true."
"It's no use talkin' to you anyway, as soon as someone tells you somethin' right... you always answer that same : it's not true."
"It's not true !"
Irritated, Belin left his sculpture there and went to milk the cows. Finally, he asked himself if he would not rather die gutted than continue living like this.
When he had finished with the milk, he started walking towards the mill, to clear his head. He had put on a woollen jacket because it was getting seriously cold.
"I just wish I could see him again..." he sighed.
He dropped to the edge of the river.
"We used to have fun together... We did everything together... It can't end like this."
He dipped his hand into the cold water. The bottom of the river was lined with shiny but unpolished pieces of granite, which could hurt your feet.
"This river is like Lord Ecthelion," thought the human.
It even had the sound of it. It sounded like the river was playing a flute... Belin stood up, gripped by the music. The river was playing the flute.
It was as if it was calling him.
So he walked along the river, towards the mountains, until he passed under a shivering birch wood, and the ground began to rise.
There the flute ceased, to be replaced by a voice, a sweet voice that he would know in a thousand, for it was the most beautiful voice he knew.
And it was singing a song that was not unknown to him.
As I was walking
by the clear fountain,
I found the water so lovely
I had to bathe.
I've loved you for so long,
I will never forget you
He continued to follow the river until it became a torrent.
Under the oak's leaves,
I lay and dried.
On the highest bough,
A nightingale sang.
Sing, nightingale, sing,
You who has a joyous heart.
Your heart is made for laughing...
Mine can only cry.
I lost my friend
without deserving it,
Because of a bouquet of roses
I refused him...
I wish the rose
were still on the bush,
And my sweet friend
loved me still.
With a heavy heart, Belin looked around. The singing had stopped.
But he saw the Lord of the Fountain, sitting on a rock overlooking the stream, under the trees, all glittering. He blinked. The vision was gone.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"It is me."
Ecthelion was facing him, dressed in simple grey clothes sewn with silver threads. He held his flute in his hand.
The human's eyes filled with tears.
"I miss you, Milord," he said only.
"I miss you too," Ecthelion admitted.
"I... I'd like to come back with you," Belin stammered. "But I don't know if I can..."
"Of course you can !"
The human, as if seized by an impulse, threw himself into his arms.
"I like you, sir. I like you still. "
Sitting on the stone in front of the house, Robert and Eudes were examining the ocarina their brother had started when they saw two horses galloping across the yard.
There was a tall white horse with a dark haired elf on it, and Belin's horse – on which Belin was riding, wrapped in his brown woollen jacket, his blond hair flowing in the wind.
As the two riders passed the entrance to the farmyard, Robert saw the elf rider waving his left hand at them without turning around : all the fingers of his hand folded except the middle finger.
"Is that an elven sign ?" Robert asked.
"Who knows !" said Eudes.
End of volume I of Book I