Chapter 8 - Mother Knows Best
(*)
Rauwen adjusted her pack, thinking about how much their small company was about to change. In the time they'd been together they'd fallen into a rhythm, mostly rising and resting with the sun.
Once they'd managed to get through the marshes, they'd made good time. Thranduil was a quick learner, she'd found. The constant crunch of his boots on leaves and twigs had abated after a few days of practice, although he still had a great deal to learn before he could walk the forest as a Silvan elf did.
With every new section of the forest they crossed, she had to point out new features to him. By the time he was reading the land better again, more changes would present themselves. Nevertheless, his hunger for mastery drove him in the pursuit of all knowledge.
She preferred his company to Oropher's, in any case. The elder elf was clearly in the habit of leading, and leading decisively. He'd taken to giving her directions in the form of 'suggestions' she didn't need. She was more than happy to let him spend his evenings asking Erisdir to recount tale after tale from her people's history. It gave her time to think.
The more familiar she became with the Sindar Lord, the more she concluded that, although he and his son were good enough people, she would prefer Oropher not spend any more time with her clan members than was necessary.
No, Oropher needed to have someplace of his own to bring his people. Rauwen was eager to discuss it with her mother — she would not have to wait much longer.
"We should be quiet now, until we pass into my mother's territory and her people receive us," Rauwen said, pausing to turn and address the company.
"Will we reach your mother's village today?" Oropher asked. He'd been eager to hear about Lavangwen as soon as he'd learned they would be meeting up with her halfway.
Rauwen didn't answer. She would not commit to bringing Oropher into the heart of her mother's clan home. The home where Rauwen had grown up. Lavangwen must make that decision herself. Rauwen continued walking.
"How will we know when we have crossed into Lady Lavangwen's territory?" She heard Oropher ask Erisdir. To her bard's credit, he didn't defy her order to stay silent.
Rauwen turned to address Oropher over her shoulder. "You will know. Kindly do not make any more noise, Lord Oropher. I must give the right signals so that we are not ambushed by my mother's marchwardens."
She watched Oropher pause, surprised at the interruption. He shook it off and nodded to her, pointedly not replying. She glanced at Thranduil to find that he was watching her, calmly waiting for her to lead them on.
Rauwen crept through the last fringes of her own territory, looking intently for any signs her mother's people might have left for her. Finally, just before she knew they were about to pass over, her eyes caught on a small cairn of stones piled beneath the large oak that marked her border — brown stones. All was well, then. She breathed a sigh of relief and led her company into her mother's lands.
To her silent joy, trees she'd known since they were saplings sang greetings of recognition to her as she passed them. Their innocent curiosity about the Sindar left her feeling fond, but protective.
Her mother's people would be watching by now, taking note of the pale-haired strangers, waiting for a sign from Rauwen of whether they ought to be welcomed or avoided — or something else. Rauwen traced the path of a small stream towards the ancient holly grove, signaling to her old clan-mates that some caution was warranted. She'd let her mother decide whether to welcome them in or meet them somewhere safe of her choosing.
She knew the Sindar had seen it when she heard Thranduil gasp behind her. She glanced at Erisdir to see if he was going to challenge her assessment. When he saw her watching, he looked down at his feet, ceding the point. No surprise then. Erisdir might challenge Rauwen, but he would always defer to Lavangwen. It was obnoxious.
She refocused on the Sindar. Thranduil stared up at the skulls that hung from the branches of a massive yew tree amidst the hollies, his eyes wide with alarm. It seemed almost as if he could hear the suspicious murmurs of the ancient trees as they looked down at him, although Rauwen knew he could not.
Oropher's eyes tracked across the grove. There, she'd caught him. She thought he'd been playing at being alternately friendly and curious, or plying for her sympathy. He was talented at the game of talk. But it was the sharp, assessing look she saw in his eyes now that she guessed was truer to Oropher.
Oropher caught her eyes and looked back up at the skulls. "Orcs," he whispered.
Rauwen nodded, but she knew elves rested here, too. Their skulls did not hang on display, but their ashes fed the yew, until the tree itself sounded, to Rauwen's mind, almost like elves. Out of old habit she strained, searching for the call of anyone she knew, twined into the great, green voice of the tree that was said to give new birth to old souls. As always, the tree remained a tree.
She gestured the company onward. Better not mention that she, too, had such a warning hanging in a thoroughfare that passed through her territory. And she could not explain just now that these sites were not only meant to frighten intruders — they were also shrines to the memory of the fallen.
She lifted a silent prayer for all the people who rested in this grove. Too many elves that she'd loved from her childhood, cut down by enemies. A memory passed through her mind of her mother standing behind her in this grove after an especially terrible ambush. They'd looked up at the still-fresh heads of orcs suspended in the air and Lavangwen had told her daughter, "We must never let up our vigilance. Remember that someday, when you are protecting a clan of your own."
Rauwen led the small party onward, moving slowly. She stopped them where the stream widened, making excuses that they needed more water and food. She showed Thranduil how to harvest cattails at the water's edge while Erisdir waded into the shallows to catch crayfish with the small fishing net they'd brought along.
Oropher filled their waterskins quietly, but Rauwen could see that he was watchful. He seemed to know they were waiting for something.
When she could hold them no longer, Rauwen told their small group to pack up. If her mother didn't summon them now, Rauwen would continue skirting the border, heading for the hollow, lightning-struck tree, where they could shelter for the night.
A sharp whistle from upstream interrupted Rauwen's plans. She wondered if Oropher and Thranduil would know what she and Erisdir knew: that was an imitation of a bird's call, not a true one. Rauwen took the company north, following the stream deeper into her mother's lands. The whistles corrected her path twice more as the afternoon wore on, until she thought she knew where her mother had decided to meet.
By the time she could hear the rush of the waterfall up ahead, the shadows of the trees were black. When they crested the last rise and stepped behind the rocky craig they were greeted by the sight of a cheery fire tended by a handful of Silvan hunters, many of them old friends. They raised their hands in greeting.
"Croeso Tywysoges Rauwen; Cyfarwydd Erisdir!"
Rauwen grinned, pleased to hear her own language after so much time using only Sindarin. Even just this small word of welcome felt like coming home.
"Noswaith dda," she replied, wishing them all a good evening. She searched the faces, each flickering with firelight, but the one face she wanted to see most was not among them.
Something shifted above them, sliding down the craig. Rauwen tensed for a second before she understood. Beside her, Thranduil's hand flew to his sword.
"No!" Rauwen said, throwing her hand over his to keep him from drawing. His whole arm was as taught as a bowstring, but his skin was warm against hers.
"Mother," Rauwen said, loudly and clearly. "You surprise our guests with such tricks."
She felt Thranduil's hand release his sword at the same time her mother landed with a soft 'thump'. Rauwen held his wrist until he lifted his hands, holding them up, away from his weapons, to show he'd understood.
Lavangwen did not apologize. She looked over the Sindar curiously, but went to Rauwen before addressing them. Rauwen felt the comforting warmth of her mother's spirit embracing her own. They greeted each other, forehead to forehead, each with a hand on the other's shoulder.
"Welcome, my beautiful daughter," Lavangwen said warmly, following her lead and speaking Sindarin. "The forest has been singing all day, celebrating your return. I am glad you found us here."
"I am always pleased to visit, mother," Rauwen said. Reluctantly, she stepped back and motioned to the Sindar standing behind her.
"May I introduce Lord Oropher Olwion, and his son Thranduil — Princes of Menegroth in the kingdom of Doriath," Rauwen said.
"Welcome to my lands, Oropher, son of Olwë" Lavangwen said, adopting a formal tone. "And Thranduil, son of Oropher. Will you join our fire?"
"It would be our pleasure, and an honor, Tywysoges Lavangwen," Oropher said, bowing smoothly. "I must protest Tywysoges Rauwen's introduction, though. Doriath is no more. I lead only a small band of survivors."
"I see," Lavangwen said. "I was told there are only two of you."
"The remaining Sindar are taking respite in my territory for now," Rauwen said quickly. "Lord Oropher is seeking an audience with grandfather."
"Ah. No doubt my father will wish to receive you, Lord Oropher," Lavangwen said. Rauwen heard a hint of ice in her mother's tone. "He has mentioned your name before. As did my brother."
Of course, Rauwen thought as a stony silence filled the air. Lavangwen would hear no bad word said about Denethor. Rauwen nudged her mother, spirit to spirit, trying to halt her before things got too tense.
"That is true, I counted your brother as a friend, although we were not close in our youths. I was still young when we parted ways, but we became better acquainted when he came to us in Doriath. I was grieved when he passed. For my part, I tried to reach the Laiquendi when I saw they needed assistance, but unfortunately I could not reach them in time. It is something I regret.
"I have told your daughter and her people what I remember of that day and will do so again if you wish. I helped prepare his burial and helped those of his people who survived to find new paths. Many of them settled in Menegroth with us – we are kin, after all.
"We have learned that one of our company is the niece of Lady Rauwen's clan member, Sûlwen," Oropher said. Lavangwen's eyebrows shot up; her eyes darted towards Rauwen for confirmation. Rauwen nodded.
"Ah, I see you know her. Sûlwen's brother died alongside King Denethor, as did many of our Sindar warriors. But his daughter, Meldisser, and her mother were welcomed as equal citizens in Menegroth. Sûlwen and Meldisser seemed pleased to meet each other. My daughter would have liked to see it, for Meldisser was her dearest friend. Eluthel would have liked to see her friend so happy."
Lavangwen's cold look had turned thoughtful, though still sharp. "She 'was' your daughter's dearest friend?"
"Yes, Lady Lavangwen," Oropher said. He met her eyes squarely. "My daughter's husband was killed in the sack of Menegroth, by elves no less. It broke her heart. She sailed West, seeking solace in the Undying Lands. I grieve the loss of them every day. That is the way of war, is it not? All of us who survived are grieving someone."
Rauwen felt like she had a boulder on her chest as she waited for her mother to reply. The older elves held eye contact until her mother finally nodded.
"I should still like to hear the full tale of the day my brother died from you, Lord Oropher. Perhaps later," Lavangwen said.
"Willingly, Lady Lavangwen," Oropher answered. "I have nothing to hide."
"My title is Tywysoges," Lavangwen said.
"Of course, Tywysoges," Oropher said, bowing to her in capitulation.
When Lavangwen gestured that her guests should follow her to the fire, Rauwen finally remembered to breathe. She looked at the rest of the party before she moved on, only to find the two bards with their eyes locked, speaking to each other without words. Thranduil's eyes tracked Lavangwen's path, his whole body alert with tense energy.
After the Sindar guests had been settled by the fire, where they were entertained by Erisdir and a fellow bard, Rauwen caught her mother's eyes from across the circle. She twitched her head to the side, pointedly looking towards the waterfall. There was an overhang beside it that kept most of the spray off, but was still close enough to the water's noise to keep the other elves from hearing. Lavangwen found a good moment to excuse herself and slipped away.
Several minutes later, Rauwen followed. She ducked under the overhang and found her mother lounging against the stone.
"Lady Mother, I have been wanting to speak with you— " she began. Before she could finish, she found herself in a warm embrace of both arms and spirit.
"Cyw," her mother said, and kissed Rauwen's forehead.
"Mam," she said. She was still tense from the encounter with the Sindar earlier. Thoughts swirled through her mind.
Lavangwen gently pulled Rauwen's head onto her shoulder and petted her hair, offering her a warmth of spirit that Rauwen didn't want to admit she needed. Being a leader was what she'd always wanted, but sometimes, the weight of it seemed too much to bear alone. She let herself relax into her mother's arms and return the embrace.
Finally, they separated, although Lavangwen kept her spirit close.
"How are you Rauwen-fach?" Lavangwen asked. "It seems you have had an interesting time since I last saw you. Did the Sindar simply walk into your territory and set up camp?"
"Well, yes, they did actually," Rauwen said with a huff.
"Have they caused trouble?" Lavangwen asked.
"No, but they might have if I had not moved them when I did," Rauwen said. "They did not even try to conceal themselves. Only the eldest among them has enough woodcraft to walk silently without a path. They have been lucky not to be attacked!"
"Moved them? Where?"
"To the fishing village on our island. The sound can carry on the water, but it has not been attacked before. If it were, it would be hard to approach undetected, and it would be easiest to defend, especially since the Sindar are well armed and well trained. The rest of them remain there under the leadership of Lord Oropher's wife and his lieutenant, waiting for their lord's return."
"Hmm, I might have let them pass by to protect the village. Why speak to them at all?"
"I found Prince Thranduil … stuck in the forest. I helped him get free and he told me his father was looking for Lenwë. He thought I was just a soldier out checking traps. I left and watched them for a while."
"And yet you returned to speak with them. Why?"
"My first thought was the same as yours, mother. But Erisdir disagreed. He swayed my people with stories of the horrible fates of the Noldor, which he says were fueled by the ill luck that comes from betraying kin. I had no choice but to offer them some aid, or my clan would have fought me, which I cannot afford. Even then, I had hoped to give them a few days of food and rest and send them along north to grandfather, but Oropher learned of our leader's Council— and here we are."
"Why did you agree to bring Oropher with you?" Lavangwen asked. She was leaning against the stone, arms crossed, looking thoughtful.
It was now or never, Rauwen thought."Erisdir again, mam. I had let him sit with us when we spoke as leaders and he interjected, saying Oropher ought to come with us. My clan would have looked weak if I disagreed after that — like we are divided. Mam, he undermines me. He questions me in front of the others, pushes things his way instead of letting me decide. He— "
"Rauwen, that is enough," her mother said sternly. "Erisdir is a good harper. I thought you would have finished this petty grievance a decade ago. You know how it is in our tradition - 'a Tywysog trains a Cyfarwydd, a Cyfarwydd trains a Tywysog.' He is doing his job, guiding you while you are still establishing yourself."
"And how long will he need to 'train' me, mother? I am going on a half a century of leading this clan! I brought us through the winter of wolves intact — and the summer the fish never came."
"Clearly a while longer if you still cannot work with him," Lavangwen said.
"I had hoped to ask for a new assignment from the Guild of Cyfarwyddion," Rauwen said. "This is an issue of personality. Just let me work with someone else."
"No," Lavangwen said, her voice strict. "Erisdir is an excellent advisor and he is strong in osanwë, which is useful as you are farther south from the rest of us. You never had any trouble with him when you lived with me and he was my second harper. He was passionately in favor of you taking your own clan, although you were the youngest ever to do so. I might not have put you up for it for another twenty years if it were not for Erisdir."
Rauwen huffed in indignance — she had not known that, and it stung. "Why not?" She began to ask, but Lavangwen spoke over her.
"I will not support a change and as you well know, the Guild will listen to my advice when it comes to you. You must fix this. You must accept his guidance — you need to be able to handle it when your advisors challenge you, however openly. I do not believe your hold on your people is so fragile! You need to believe it yourself. Work it out with Erisdir or you will never fulfill your potential."
Rauwen growled in frustration.
"Rauwen, your bard never stops teaching you. It only changes, so you are both solving your clan's problems in an ongoing exchange of ideas. He is meant to be a check on you: one person can never see all sides of things. You should appreciate each other.
"Truth be told, Aewenfain likely would have challenged me as well, had the Sindar come to my territory and I wished to send them away. You and I have learned to be cautious, but it is true that we ought to think of others, especially kin. You managed to do so without it harming your clan, did you not? Do you regret it? You think the Sindar are undeserving of assistance from us?"
Rauwen sighed heavily and slumped against the stone. "No, mother, I do not regret it. They are good people and they are in trouble. You should see how thin they are. They have little more than the clothes on their backs. But Aewenfain respects you. Do you really think she would have blatantly tried to sway your people when you had already suggested a solution?"
"Why not? If she was wrong, I could say so. But she often says things that are worth my consideration. It is not weak to change your mind in the face of new perspectives. It shows you care more about doing right than being right. You found a way to protect your people by keeping the Sindar away from your village without turning your back on our kin — which might be more than Oropher Olwion can say about my brother," Lavangwen said.
Rauwen was surprised at the bitterness in her mother's voice, but then, Lavangwen had loved Denethor so dearly.
"I — mother, I do not think Elu Thingol betrayed our people. I believe Oropher told us the truth."
"Which is what? That they were waylaid? How convenient."
"That they arrived at the agreed location and time so they could go into battle together — only to find an army of orcs there already, between the Iathrim troops and my uncle's. They had to fight their way across the field, which they did, but it took too long. Truly, I think he was being honest. Lord Oropher looked sorrowful when he spoke of it. I do not particularly like him, but I do not think him a liar."
Lavangwen turned her face away and was silent, then sighed and looked at her daughter again.
"That is not as bad as what I had heard," she admitted. "And yet you say you dislike Oropher?"
Rauwen paused, weighing her words. She was forming an idea of what her people might do with the Sindar, but she wanted her mother's impression without tainting it too much.
"I can see why he has been a strong leader for them in these times of crisis," Rauwen said. "For my part I would find him heavy-handed if he were my clan leader. Not unlike grandfather is at times…"
"Ah, interesting," Lavangwen said. Her finger began tapping against her arm. "There is something you are not saying. Why?"
"When they first arrived I had a thought that I now believe is likely not true," Rauwen said slowly. Her mother motioned her to go on. "I had wondered if Oropher came to declare himself king over us all, outranking Lenwë because Olwë is his father."
Lavangwen made a dangerous growl in the back of her throat.
"Mother, listen. Since we have set out on this journey he has been — I think, in any case, that he has been hinting at a different proposal. I think, having heard Erisdir's recounting of our people's history and traditions, that Oropher wishes to settle somewhere in this forest in a territory of his own. As neighbors."
Lavangwen drummed her fingers on her arm, thinking for a long minute. "What do you think of that, Tywysoges Rauwen?" She asked.
"I have been hoping to get your thoughts once you have traveled with us, but I am coming to be in favor of it. So long as he has no authority over us, I think it solves many problems, and tidily. Perhaps each clan could offer his people some gifts to help them start anew – a sign of goodwill. The Sindar kingdom can live beside ours as kin and we can have peace while they do as they see fit.
"We could give him the unclaimed territory beside grandfather's. It is good land, but it would be difficult to be a new, young leader with Lenwë peering over the border at you. So let grandfather deal with another ancient who thinks he knows everything," Rauwen suggested.
Her mother snorted, but she looked thoughtful. "My father is more than capable of keeping an ambitious neighbor in check," she mused.
Saying it out loud, it sounded even more convincing than it had in her own mind. Rauwen found all the thoughts she'd had in the past two days flowing out of her mouth.
"When they grow and need to expand, I think his son Thranduil might lead some of their people on his own as well. I think he could become a leader I would treat with gladly. He could even be a friend. It is a shame that Thranduil will go with his father's clan, really. I doubt I will see him again for a long time after his people leave my island."
Rauwen refocused her eyes and found her mother watching her, a curious look on her face.
"Well, will you take your impression while we travel north mother, and tell me what you think before the Council? If Oropher is allowed to speak and you and I are both in favor, he will have a fair chance," Rauwen asked.
"Yes, I will," Lavangwen agreed. "You are growing in wisdom, cath-fach. I am proud of you, I hope you know." She patted her daughter's cheek, smiling affectionately.
Rauwen protested, making a face at the endearment her mother had used when she was small. "Am I your neighboring clan leader, or your baby?"
"You are my neighboring clan leader, of course. Do not worry, I will not let anyone see," Lavangwen said, pulling her daughter into an embrace. Rauwen squawked in surprise. "But you will always be my baby. Even in another thousand years."
"Mam!" Rauwen said, her voice stifled in her mother's shoulder.
Lavangwen chuckled and let her go. "You may have your own child one day and then you will understand."
"I would have to be married first," Rauwen said with a grin and a snort.
Lavangwen did not smile back. "You asked earlier why I would not have put you up for leadership without Erisdir's encouragement. You are alone, Rauwen, and that is hard on a leader."
Rauwen frowned. "I am not alone, mam. I have Sûlwen. No one has ever had a dearer friend. We take care of each other."
Her mother shook her head, her lips pursed. "That may well be, but it is not the same as having a fëa bond. You are Sûlwen's leader, Rauwen. There are many things you cannot speak to her about – or you should not, if you are. It puts her in a difficult position with the rest of your clan. I have warned you before…"
"You are father's clan leader," Rauwen said, folding her arms over her chest.
"Not the way I am with the others. We are bonded. It makes everything different. Who do you think is leading in my stead while I go to the Council? My people listen to him even over the Cyfarwyddion, as you well know."
"I am too busy trying to keep my clan together," Rauwen protested. "Besides, I am older than most who marry. It is too late."
Lavangwen shrugged, one eyebrow raised. "It could happen. Love can find you in the strangest times and places. You ought to keep that in mind when you come to these Council meetings. There are elves in your grandfather's clan that would make a good husband to you. We should arrive in time for his solstice party – dance with some ellyn who are unattached. Consider it."
Rauwen let out a huff of annoyance. "Do not hold your breath for that, mother, you might suffocate from waiting and I would be grieved."
Lavangwen sighed and patted Rauwen's shoulder. "We should go back to the fire and entertain our guests. I also need to introduce them to Aewenfain and Tuilinher before we form a company tomorrow. The group will be a little bigger than I like, but it cannot be helped."
"Tuilinher?" Rauwen asked, surprised. "Aewenfain's apprentice harper? Why?"
"She thinks it is time she no longer be an apprentice," Lavangwen replied. "Tuilinher is to go before the Guild of Cyfarwyddion to be considered for elevation to Journeyman."
Rauwen raised an eyebrow at her mother. An impish smile twitched at the edge of her mouth.
"A Journeyman harper needs to journey. Tuilinher will need to be assigned to serve in a new clan."
Lavangwen shot back a smirk. "Erisdir already has his hands full with you. 'A Cyfarwydd trains a Tywysog and a Tywysog trains a Cyfarwydd,' daughter. Tuilinher will journey to a clan with a leader who is much more experienced than you so she can learn from them. Do not sulk, it is beneath you."
(*)
Terms:
Croeso - welcome (Welsh)
Noswaith dda - good evening (Welsh)
Cyw - little bird (an endearment) (Welsh)
-fach - a diminutive (fem) that you can add to names as an endearment, e.g. Rauwen-fach means 'little Rauwen' (Welsh)
cath-fach - small cat/kitten, here used as a cute nickname Lavangwen calls her daughter the 'lioness' (Welsh)
Notes:
Hello and happy holidays - happy new year soon enough! This is one of my favorite chapters so far, I am so excited to share it with you. I'd love to hear what you think. Would a character and/or term guide be helpful at some point - now? Maps? If there's anything you'd find helpful, please let me know and I am happy to put together indexes.
My writing is getting back on track, so the biweekly update schedule is safe! I'm about four chapters ahead right now and, if you're wondering about when the slow burn might start burning a little bit more, I beg a little more patience to tie up the heftiest part of the political drama. The tipping point into the next era is not that far off now.
Next update will be January 11th.
(*)
Chapter Notes
The skulls, the elves' ashes, the yew tree! As I've noted, I'm pulling from Celtic history for world building ideas in this fic. The Celts (who were not strictly concentrated in what is today the U.K., mind you) had lots of practices with dead bodies that we might find gory. This included displaying the bodies of enemies, but it also included displays of their own warriors' remains. There are a lot of skulls in Celtic archeological sites, so it appears that they were items that were found frequently in and around town and even in people's homes. In this case the Silvan elves' displays of orcish remains are meant to be intimidating, while having a quieter ritual significance as well.
The yew tree has a long association with death, rebirth, and immortality, which is why I thought that would perfect for the tree Silvans cultivate at their grave sites. How unappealing to go into the West, if you believe that your peoples' spirits have returned to the forest through the yew tree, and remain there! Holly and oak are both trees with potent symbolism in these traditions as well. Holly in particular is associated with protection - good to serve as the yew's guards.
I do regret I haven't included some green voices POV until now - it's long since time to share more about Rauwen's special connection with her forest!