The Council
(*)
In the weak morning light, Rauwen watched the last of party-goers leave the grove. She chuckled to herself at the sight of Thranduil's stunned face. She could remember her first time attending one of her grandfather's quarter day festivals. It had seemed one moment she was dancing in an ecstatic whirl of firelight, music, bodies, and spirits, and in the next moment she was waking, her cheek pressed into a hummock of scratchy grass with an over-bright sunbeam in her eyes.
Emrys, her grandfather's ancient Cyfarwydd and magician had already begun to circle the grove, muttering incantations until a curtain of silence fell around the Council, shielding their conversation from curious listeners.
Lenwë took his place beneath the king oak tree. The rest of the clan leaders found their way to their own spots. First Lenwë, then Lavangwen to his left, then Rauwen. On Lenwë's other side was his son, Tawaren, then, Braignir and Celomen. Celomen stood shoulder to shoulder with his wife, Nimdes, who shared his vote as equal co-ruler.
In a ring behind the clan leaders, the Cyfarwyddion gathered, loosely arranged to be near their Tywysog or Tywysoges. Watching. Rauwen had never liked them standing there, following the conversation. She knew they discussed everything that was said in their own Council later.
Emrys stepped into the center of the circle, holding a fine crystal bowl that held a little water from Elbereth's pool. It shimmered as he let the last drops fall.
"May the blessings of Elbereth and Kementari be upon this Council. May we never fail in our sacred trust: to Guard and to Guide."
"To Guard and to Guide," Rauwen recited with the rest of the group.
Lenwë cleared his throat and started them off. "As always we will begin with an account from each of us about what has happened in our clan this year. We know we will need to speak about the arrival of Oropher's Sindar. What else?"
"Population," Tawaren said, soft spoken as he often was. His son Braignir nodded beside him, looking sour.
"Security," Braignir added. "We need better defenses in these dark times."
Lavangwen shook her head lightly, but kept her tongue. Rauwen knew her mother's views on fortification all too well – the cave kingdom had been a disaster she'd warned Rauwen about her whole life.
"We would like to expand our borders north," Celoman said.
"Just by a few leagues," Nimdes added when Braignir scowled at his brother. "We have half of a hunting ground. We need to be able to finish stalking animals when they cross the border."
Lenwë nodded. "Then, yes, let us discuss that today. Is there anything else?"
When nobody spoke, they began in earnest. The heavy rains that year had impacted everyone. Braignir's complaint about security began to make more sense as he described repeated, violent intrusions in his territory on the edge of the Consortium-occupied lands.
Tawaren's people had had a glut of babies that were just coming of age now, getting married and wishing for families of their own. His village was very full. At the same time, he was taking precautions to stay hidden so Braignir's attackers did not find him.
Celoman and Nimdes had had lean hunting and poor crops for the second year in a row. They said they were not starving yet, but Rauwen could see they were looking thinner than normal.
Lenwë and Lavangwen had little to say. Then, finally, they all turned to Rauwen.
"So, granddaughter, you have had an eventful year," Lenwë said. Lavangwen snorted.
"Well, not until my guests arrived," Rauwen said dryly. "We have finally settled into our new village. The hedge is stable – we have not seen the wolves again. Our gardens are growing well. The fishing has been excellent in our lake so far."
"My, but you have been fortunate," Braignir said. Rauwen glared at him. He'd never liked that she'd been raised to leadership so young, he was being especially unpleasant this year.
She continued, "If I was not feeding so many extra mouths, I might have offered Tywysog Celoman and Tywysoges Nimdes some provisions for their winter stores. But as it is, even though the Sindar have agreed to help hunt, fish, and gather while they stay with us, I am afraid they may stretch us thin."
"You do not intend to invite them to stay with you, then?" Tawaren said.
"What?" Rauwen blustered. "No, I do not, uncle! They are too many – they are a full clan by themselves."
Lenwë raised his hands, hushing the group. "Peace, children. Granddaughter, would you begin at the beginning? How is it that Oropher found you?"
Rauwen did as he suggested and started over, beginning with the whispers from the trees and ending with their arrival at the solstice party. She kept Thranduil's fall into her net trap to herself.
"And you believe this story about our uncle's death?" Braignir said when she'd finished.
For the first time since they'd arrived, Lenwë looked angry. Finally, Rauwen thought. You had to poke the old ones with a sword point to get them awake sometimes.
"Hold your tongue, grandson. Denethor was my child," Lenwë said firmly. "Your grandmother and I spoke with Lord Oropher privately last night, and we are satisfied Denethor was not betrayed. He was a casualty of war, and he died with honor, and was avenged."
"Brother, you have become so bitter of late," Celoman said reproachfully. "The darkness that encroaches on your lands has cast a shadow over your heart."
Braignir breathed in to speak, but his father placed a hand on his shoulder. Rauwen was relieved to see her cousin's posture ease a little. He seemed to chew on his words for a moment.
"We need better defenses," Braignir finally said. "We are shielding your lands by ourselves. It costs us… much."
For the first time in years, Rauwen felt a twinge of pity for her cousin.
"What do you need?" Lavangwen asked. "More fighters?"
"I would not turn away more fighters," Braignir said slowly. "But what we need most is better weapons. The orcs fight with iron. We need more metal weapons of our own."
There it was. Somehow, Braignir's people needed to be armed properly, but the dwarves who were her people's only source of metal blades charged them heavily.
"Oropher and his son both carry metal swords and knives," Braignir said. "I wish I had had a chance to see their blades. I only caught a glimpse, but they looked like fine weapons. Do you think they traded with the dwarves for them?"
Rauwen shook her head slowly. "I have seen Prince Thranduil's sword. It is not like any dwarven blade I have seen. No, I think their weapons are of elvish make. It would be possible to have forges in a guarded city like Menegroth."
She considered holding her tongue, but it would not do to withhold important information from the Council.
"Oropher and Thranduil are not the only ones who have swords," she said. Braignir's eyes locked on hers. "I did not count, but I would venture a guess that they have thirty or forty swords among them, plus knives – both for the table and hunting."
"Forty elven steel blades!" Braignir cried. "Would they trade some with us?"
"You are rushing ahead," Lavangwen warned. "We have not even discussed what we will do with the Sindar. And I would note that they are not like us. My daughter has been teaching Prince Thranduil, as they call him, during our journey because his woodcraft is abominable. You would think he was a child, but I gather he is in his seventh century."
"He has been improving quickly enough," Rauwen countered. "Oropher is somewhat more skilled. These things can be taught – and learned."
Lavangwen raised her eyebrow at her daughter. "It was you who told me you are concerned they will attract too much attention just when we have more foes than ever in this wood."
Rauwen raised her hands in surrender. "That is true, I am concerned. But as problems go, it seems as though that is one that can be fixed – if they are willing to learn from us."
"And are they willing?" Tawaren asked. "Or do they come to us with their own agenda?"
Lavangwen huffed. "Lord Oropher has been hiding it well to make nice with us, but I think he is an elf who has his own ideas and does not let them go easily. I cannot imagine him settling happily into a roundhouse, can you?"
Lenwë rubbed his chin. "Do not be so sure. He was born in a hall that was not much more than a roundhouse. Last evening, he spoke much about wishing to return to a simpler way of life. I cannot blame the Sindar for turning away from the lifestyle that has brought them such sorrow. Whatever wealth it gave them, they paid for in blood, and then lost it all. Oropher knows this."
"Do we know what it is they are asking for?" Tawaren said. "There is no clan here who could absorb such numbers – unless you could, father."
Lenwë shook his head. "I do not think that would be wise."
"I think they want to settle in the forest," Rauwen said. "Grandfather, did he say as much to you?"
"Not in so many words," Lenwë replied. "But I think you are right. Oropher seeks a home for his people, and perhaps our help in establishing it."
"Would that be so bad?" Rauwen asked. She glanced at her mother, who nodded in support..
"Grandfather, the territory to your west remains unclaimed. You know Lord Oropher and Lady Elraënor – as do some of your people. Surely you would make good neighbors for them."
"Hmm," Lenwë said.
"If they are going to stay, I think that would be the best solution," Lavangwen said.
"Why assist them at all, Tywysoges Rauwen?" Nimdes asked. "If they are so uncareful that you fear them, why not let them pass by?"
"I – that was my first thought, I admit. My Cyfarwydd presented other – considerations. They were in need. Could we leave them to suffer?" Rauwen said. She tried to keep her voice neutral.
"What considerations?" Celoman asked, his eyes trained on Erisdir.
Rauwen turned and motioned her bard to speak. She chewed on her frustration. Even in the clan leaders' council, always, Erisdir had to have something to say.
"I merely observed that in our history, elves have not had good fortune when they have turned their backs on our kin. The Sindar were in need – and are they not kin? Sûlwen's own niece was among them, we learned," Erisdir said, his fellow harpers nodding along with him.
"I would like to hear what Lord Oropher has to say for himself," Tawaren said.
The group became quiet.
Finally, Lenwë spoke. "As would I. I think we should invite Lord Oropher to join us and to make his case, whatever it may be. Then we can decide."
Celoman and Nimdes exchanged a glance, then nodded.
"Yes, that is likely best," Lavangwen agreed. "Let us hear what the last Lord of Doriath has to say for himself."
"Emrys, will you bring him in?" Lenwë asked.
The ancient magician nodded sagely and made his way towards the grove's exit. Rauwen watched her family members' faces as they waited. She pointedly ignoring Erisdir out of sheer annoyance.
It occurred to her it was going to be interesting to see this from the other side. She could remember her first time being called into the Council. Her mother had brought up the possibility of a new clan a full year before. Every encounter Rauwen had had with family or any Cyfarwydd since that suggestion felt heavy with expectation. She was used to people looking at her, but she'd never felt so observed as she did that year. She'd learned to pick her words carefully as she navigated little tests set before her.
And then, finally, she'd been called into the Council, barely an hour after it had started. Her mother had told her if they called her early, it would be a good sign. If she was about to be given the title Tywysoges, they'd want to allow her to vote on this year's matters.
Rauwen had walked in, ready to continue mincing carefully around issues, trying to impress her grandfather, uncles, and cousins — and they'd promptly interrogated her, brazenly, about why she should be allowed to lead so young and who would join her clan. They tested her understanding of the Council's rules.
The sudden change in tone had stunned her at first, and her mother hadn't even warned her. (She wasn't supposed to, Lavangwen explained later, with apologies.) It was another sort of test — the final test. Rauwen had been allowed into the ring, but could she hold her own?
Oropher was about to get the same treatment, she could feel it. She watched his face carefully as he stepped into the grove and Emrys closed the wall of silence behind them. Yes, Oropher was still expecting games.
But Rauwen imagined Oropher was more than ready to hold his own. The only question left was how quickly he could pivot.
"Good morning, Lord Oropher," Lenwë said smoothly. "We welcome you to our Council. We have just been discussing the matter of your people."
"Good morning. My thanks to you all for receiving me," Oropher said, nodding to each of the clan leaders in turn. He glanced at the harpers, unsure if he should greet them as well.
"Well?" Lavangwen asked. "What is it you want from us?"
Oropher turned his head to look at her. He blinked once. Rauwen resisted the urge to snort. This certainly was more amusing from the other side.
"Yes, that is what I would like to know as well," Tawaren echoed his sister. "You seem to think we can help you. What assistance do you seek?"
Oropher was silent for one more breath, then spoke with more composure than Rauwen had mustered when she had stood in his spot.
"We are seeking a new home," Oropher said. "Which we would prefer to be near our kin, here, in this forest."
"Why?" Nimdes asked. "You are city dwellers, are you not? Why come here, when you had a place in the city by the sea?"
Oropher growled, surprising them all. "To stay anywhere under the reign of the so-called 'High King' Gil-galad would have required us to swear allegiance to him — a Noldor. His cousins killed our people in droves without a second thought. It cannot be borne. We shall not call him King!"
Rauwen could see Braignir's nostrils flaring in shared outrage. She herself felt her jaw clenching in disgust at the thought of pledging allegiance to the Noldor: the kinslayers.
"I can understand that," Lenwë said, as unperturbed as it seemed only ancient elves could be. "But why here? Why us?"
Rauwen jumped in. "You have mentioned that your Lady Elraënor had a dream that told you to come to the Greenwood."
Her grandfather continued, hard on her heels. "I do remember young Elraënor having some signs of the Sight, but predicting an ice storm is a far cry from telling a full clan of elves to cross the continent in search of kin they have not spoken to in millennia."
"She predicted the attack on Menegroth," Oropher said quickly, before anyone could butt in.
Rauwen breathed in hard. The eyes of the Council were on Oropher now. "She tried to warn King Dior, but he would not hear of removing the Silmaril from the city. He said it was his weregild – his family's by right, and he was confident no attack would come in the dead of winter.
"I remember she was frantic. She threw herself on the floor, raving about rivers of blood running through our halls. They gave her calming herbs and sent her to bed. Like a little girl. Four days later, the Noldor tore our city apart, killed the King and many others — including my daughter's husband.
"When last you knew us, Lord Lenwë, my Lady Elraënor was a girl, but she is not so now. She has grown in wisdom and in power. We — my people — will not ignore her Sight again lightly."
Silence fell in the grove. Rauwen could see the bards exchanging glances, no doubt chattering to each other in their minds.
"What was her dream, then?" Tawaren finally asked.
Oropher nodded. "She dreamed she was speaking with Lord Lenwë and Lady Iúlwen, who she remembered from our youths, in a sunlit wood. There was good food, music, and laughter. Our son was there with us, and more of our people. It was warm, and the air smelled of flowers. I felt her wake up — she was more peaceful than we have felt in years."
"That is it?" Braignir scoffed. "It is hardly a vision at all!"
"My Lady knows when a dream is the Sight, or just a dream," Oropher said. "We knew where your people had settled, or at least, where you had settled last when Lord Denethor came to us.
"After the fall of Menegroth and the killings at the Havens, we had been speaking about where we could go to get out from under Gil-galad — without being forced in the West against our will. We decided this was our answer."
"To join the 'Nandor?'" Lavangwen said icily. "You must have remembered the days when my father was under oaths of fealty to your father, oh son of Olwë. Perhaps that was appealing to you."
Oropher scoffed. Rauwen raised her eyebrows. He was very confident for someone in his position.
Oropher did not speak to Lavangwen, but to all of them, turning his face as he went. "Oaths that my father freely released when your people chose to return to the forest. And besides, are we not 'Nandor' now as well? Have we not turned back, following you? What good has come out of the West for elves? The Host of Aman, I suppose, but they came too late for my liking, and only when begged at great cost. Perhaps I have come to think yours was the better choice."
Another pause filled the grove. There was no question Oropher could hold his own, just as Rauwen had thought. He was sure of himself and a convincing speaker. He would not be easy to keep in line. A little doubt crept into her heart.
"So. All this to say: you wish to settle here with your people, beside us. How many are you?" Lenwë asked.
"We are eighty-three elves," Oropher said. "And we do not wish to settle beside you."
Rauwen stared at him in confusion. What now? Had he changed his mind?
"I have spoken to Cyfarwydd Erisdir and his colleagues a great deal on our way north, learning about your history. I admire you all very much. You have built a unique alliance that has served your people well," Oropher said.
Rauwen watched him, puzzled, as his eyes swept around the circle.
Oropher bowed to them. "Which is why I do not wish for my people to settle here beside you. I wish for us to join your Consortium."
Rauwen's mind raced as she thought back over everything that had happened since Oropher arrived, piecing together how Oropher might have arrived at this wild idea.
"That is a bold request. Only those in the line of Lenwë have ever served on this Council," Braignir said dryly. "Have you even authority to bind your people in this way?"
"I do, yes. I am their leader, and will continue to be, whether my title be 'Lord' or 'Prince' or Tywysog.' And I am kin of Lenwë, even if I am not of his line. We are cousins, are we not?"
Lenwë nodded in acknowledgement, an eyebrow raised. The Silvan clan leaders looked at each other in turn, testing the others' reactions.
A thought dawned on Rauwen that suddenly made everything seem clear. How could they keep Oropher in line? Well, he'd just said how.
"You know there are conditions, do you not?" Rauwen asked. Oropher looked at her sharply. "To be in the Consortium."
Oropher glanced at Erisdir, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. The bard's face remained blandly pleasant. For once, Rauwen wanted to kiss Erisdir on the head for keeping his tongue when it mattered.
"You assist each other in times of need," Oropher said. "Is that what you mean?"
"The pledge of mutual support, yes," Lavangwen said, smiling at her daughter. "That is one of the commitments of our treaty. But it is not the only one, Lord Oropher."
"And may I know the others, or are they a secret of your people?" Oropher said carefully, eyeing Erisdir once more.
"They are Silvan business," Lenwë replied. "But I would tell them to you, with the Council's blessing. I think your proposal is worth discussing, at the least."
Tawaren was already nodding, as was Celoman.
"He ought to promise not to speak of this outside this Council," Lavangwen said.
"I agree," Braignir added. "But I am intrigued, I admit."
Oropher paused for a moment, then nodded. Rauwen thought he looked annoyed. Then you are not going to like what comes next, she thought, feeling smug.
Lenwë cleared his throat. "The first condition of the Consortium, as you know, is our pledge of mutual assistance. We are one people. We care for one another, and defend one another."
The other leaders nodded along.
"The second condition of the Consortium is that decisions that affect all our people, or the whole forest, shall not be made alone, except in times of great urgency, and then only so much as is necessary.
"Each clan is represented in this Council by its leader, and each leader has one vote. The borders of our territories, the admission or expulsion of clans, actions that will deplete rare resources, or attract enemies, all deals of trade or alliances with outsiders, be they elves or mortals, — all these must be accepted by a majority of the Council before they are done."
Rauwen watched Oropher's face carefully. The strength of the Council, together, could keep the strong will of this one elf in line, she was certain. They'd checked Lenwë before, to his annoyance.
Oropher's eyes were narrowed slightly. He stood very still. When Lenwë paused for a breath, Oropher jumped in.
"All outside trade? How would I determine if a resource is considered so rare that I could not use it without your leave? The changing of borders and admission of clans, I can understand. But does this Council not meet but once a year?"
"That it does," Lavangwen said. "If one must act quickly, then you must send out messages and seek approval of the others. If you were to join us, you would need three others to support you to move forward."
"Our trade delegations to buy metalwork from the dwarves are composed of members from all clans. You cannot go alone," Braignir added. "This is so they cannot pit us against each other to increase their prices. They are too dear as it is."
"I see," Oropher said slowly. "Membership, borders, resources, trade and treaties… Your people have no 'King' because this Council takes a King's place, I think. It is a powerful alliance indeed that you have created. There is much to consider."
"Take all the time you need to consider, Lord Oropher," Braignir said. "You are welcome to return next year once you have decided."
Oropher gave Braignir a sour look, which Rauwen could not blame him for.
"That will not be necessary. I can accept these conditions. The second may take some… adjustment, but it still seems worth it to me."
"There is one more thing," Lenwë said.
Oropher was not looking as confident as he had before. Rauwen had to admit she was pleased.
"You will need to accept a Cyfarwydd from the Guild into your clan. You asked how you would know what resources are precious, well, it is your bard who would tell you," Lenwë said. "It is my family who leads the elves of this forest, yes, but the Cyfarwydd study our history and our people, and they advise us. The purpose of this Council is 'to Guard and to Guide' — the Cyfarwydd are a part of that pledge we make to our people."
"And do I select my Cyfarwydd?" Oropher asked.
"No," Rauwen said. Her mother looked at her out of the side of her eye. "The Guild of Cyfarwyddion make that decision, although they will consider your thoughts on the matter, if you have them. Their yearly meeting is directly after this one."
"Well, alright," Oropher said, straightening his face into something dignified again. "Mutual aid, the sharing of certain decisions, and cooperation with an advisor of the Guild's choosing. If you will accept us into your Consortium, we will abide by these terms."
Rauwen felt a swell of triumph ripple through her. This was a solution — for everyone. For the first time since the arrival of the Sindar in her territory, she felt a thrill of excitement. A whole new clan! They were not children of the Greenwood, as she and many of her clan members were, but their children might be. They could learn, and the forest might heal some of the wounds of their souls.
She thought of Thranduil walking beside her on their journey north, each day seeming to see her beloved forest with brighter eyes. She had come to hope that he would find ease from the shadows she saw sometimes behind in the depths of his eyes.
"Aye," she said, the word slipping from her mouth unbidden. "I say 'aye.'"
"As do I," Braignir said quickly. Rauwen could practically hear him counting out the swords he might wheedle from Oropher under the pledge of mutual support.
Lenwë sighed. "You are our kin. You took in our people when my son asked for your help. I cannot deny you – you have my support."
Tawaren was exchanging glances with Celoman and Nimdes. They were all very quiet. Oropher only needed one more vote.
Lavangwen caught her daughter's eye, questioning. Rauwen looked back steadily, letting her mother see how sure she was.
"Aye," Lavangwen said. "I am in favor."
Tawaren nodded in acceptance. Nimdes looked displeased, but her husband mirrored his father. It was done.
"Then welcome, Tywysog Oropher, clan leader of the Sindar," Lenwë said slowly. Rauwen wondered if he would have said 'aye' or 'nay' had his vote been needed. "Now we must get to it — the rest of our Council awaits. Next, we must discuss territories."
"On the topic of territory, we had a matter we wished to discuss" Nimdes said quickly, jumping in before anyone else could speak.
"Yes, I remember," Lenwë said. "Your hunting rights will be addressed, law-daughter."
"The day is getting on," Nimdes said primly.
Braignir sighed in frustration. "Then let us get to it. This need not be a long discussion. I have no objection to your people crossing my border to finish stalking game you have sighted. I would think you would begrudge my people no less, brother: we have been friendly neighbors, have we not?"
Nimdes frowned. "It would be better not to share the hunting ground any longer."
"Speak plainly, sister," Braignir chided her. "I know you have had two lean years now — but are matters so bad?"
Rauwen's heart sank as she watched Celoman and Nimdes' faces. Even Braignir looked sympathetic.
"I see," Braignir said. "Then as a matter of mutual assistance, I shall tell my people to stay away from those grounds this year — they are yours until the next Council, when we can discuss it again. You have not needed them before."
"I think that is enough for now," Celoman said. Nimdes sighed and nodded. Lenwë nodded in satisfaction along with her.
"Brother," Celoman continued. "If you are in need of more warriors, as you say, can you feed nine hot-blooded young elves? They are all good archers and can use staves to defend themselves — you will have to teach them if you need more."
"Yes, alright," Braignir said more readily than Rauwen would have expected. "That will make up for some of our losses."
"Losses?" Tawaren said sharply. "How many elves have died fending off these foes you speak of? You did not say!"
Braignir was shaking his head. "Only two, we have been careful. But it is not easy to fight iron with staves and flint. We hold our foes at bay, but we cannot defeat them. They only return. Sixteen of my people — all young elves and their children — have asked to leave me for fear of their safety. They have asked permission to join Tywysoges Rauwen's clan."
Rauwen could hear the bitterness in her cousin's voice. The extra vitriol he'd had for her of late suddenly made sense. The Council turned to look at her. She thought of her recent guests and the winter stores she ought to be gathering. But she had been fortunate lately, and clearly many of their people had not.
"I can take sixteen more," Rauwen said.
"Only sixteen?" Lavangwen asked. Rauwen raised an eyebrow at her mother. "I have eight more who wish to join you from my clan. They all wish to be reunited with family members who followed you."
Rauwen nodded. She would tell her clan to begin putting away pemmican along with their other winter stores when she returned — just in case it was needed with these swelling numbers. Survival food.
Tawaren cleared his throat. "I had requests to join you from my clan as well," he said softly.
Rauwen looked at her family in exasperation. "Do you all have people you wish to send me? Perhaps grandfather has more room — or you, mother, if your people are only moving to be with their kin."
Lavangwen nodded. "I could make room if it is needed."
"They ask for Rauwen especially," Braignir spat. "Young tree speakers, all of them, looking south to 'Greenwood's Prince.' Nevermind that you yourself are still green."
Rauwen huffed, but Lenwë interrupted her.
"We need another clan leader to be made ready. Our young people wish for families, despite the lingering shadows," Lenwë said. "Braignir, is your elder son ready? Celoman and Nimdes — your daughter?"
"Fânien will be ready in another decade or two," Celoman answered. "I cannot imagine it earlier."
"We will encourage her more," Nimdes said. "She will study with care if she knows she will be needed."
Lenwë nodded and looked to Braignir.
"Yes, Sadrion could be ready soon, I think. He has a good head on his shoulders, but I have not been preparing him specifically. My clan remains small. We do not need to split."
"Then send him to stay with me," Tawaren said. "I will be glad to know my grandson better. I can guide him, and he can meet my people, as they will be his clan soon enough. We will need to split within a few years. Rauwen — thirty-five of my people asked to join you this year."
"Thirty-five!" Rauwen cried. "Forgive me, uncle, but I could not take so many. Not on top of those I have already agreed to."
"How many can you take, each of you?" Tawaren asked gravely, gesturing to Rauwen and Lavangwen. "We may need to spread things out to be fair to everyone, regardless of their preferences."
"I could take twenty or so, but we might have a lean winter," Lavangwen said.
"I have agreed to twenty-four just now. I could not take more than thirty, and we would be bursting from our seams," Rauwen said.
Oropher cleared his throat. Rauwen had been so caught up in this surprising discussion, she'd momentarily forgotten about him.
"If I may?" Oropher said. The Council waited for him. "If it would be of help, my son, Thranduil, could be ready to lead a clan within a few years if he is needed."
Lavangwen scoffed. "Fifty years, maybe. Do not glare at me, Tywysog Oropher — whether or not your Thranduil is ready to lead elves, he must learn to live as we do before he could lead Silvans. He must understand how to survive and make decisions in this terrain – and what's more, our traditions! A Sinda, leading a clan of our people? In less than fifty years? No."
"In any case," Oropher said, raising his hands in capitulation. "If we might speak of where my people may settle, I would know better how we may be able to help — over time."
"That, at least, is easy," Rauwen said. "We were speaking of it before you arrived, Lord Oropher. The lands directly to the west of these ones are for your people — the elves you know are all with my grandfather. You can be close to them."
Lavangwen nodded. "It is good country and a fair grant. My father keeps three hundred elves here, peacefully and well fed, because this country is so well hidden in the hills. Your people will be able to recover. Then we shall see about you giving aid instead of receiving it."
"Or," Braignir said slyly. "You could take the lands to my north. Still close enough to your ancient kin, but I would not mind a neighbor with forty elven steel swords and experience fighting orcs that could help me clear that part of the wood."
"Or," Oropher said smoothly. "If I might suggest my preferred solution — we could forge you some elven steel blades of your own."
The Council grew quiet, all watching Oropher.
"Yes, that is right — I have two smiths with me. One is a silversmith but I spoke to her before we left the Havens and she agreed to learn sword smithing from the other if it is necessary."
"And where, exactly, do you think you could build a forge that would not be noticed?" Celoman asked.
"I would not try to build a forge that could escape notice entirely," Oropher said. "I would rebuild the abandoned settlement at Amon Lanc, and my people would live there, and defend the keep if it needs defending."
Rauwen gasped. "What?!" She cried.
"Yes, Tywysoges Rauwen, that is my request — to take the lands beside yours. The fort will not be too difficult to rebuild: the foundations are still in place. A few buildings can be salvaged entirely. It is well appointed, and my people know how to make use of a settlement, and keep it safe. Any of you would be welcome to retreat into our walls if you found it necessary."
Rauwen felt hot acid climbing up her throat.
"I thought you said you wished to live in our way," Lavangwen said icily. "And here you have been planning to rebuild your great city on my daughter's doorstep."
"Amon Lanc will be a far cry from Menegroth. It is a hill fort, not a city," Oropher said, unperturbed. "We will learn your ways, yes. But we will share what knowledge we have as well. It sounds as though we could be useful in this way, if the dwarves charge you so much for metal and your clans grow so rapidly. Once fully built, as many as a thousand elves could live in that fort."
"A thousand!" Rauwen cried. Her voice rang through the grove, loud and angry.
"How do you think you would feed a thousand elves?" Lenwë asked. "There is a reason we left Amon Lanc and began to live in clans."
"We learned to grow much in small spaces in Menegroth. I expect to turn every roof in the settlement into a garden. That will help, and it is more knowledge we will happily share," Oropher said, nodding at Celoman and Nimdes.
Rauwen cried out again. "This — this cannot happen! Amon Lanc is close to our village — far closer than you know! Every creature in the forest will hear you building your walls and your forge. You will bring evil down upon my people. I have been good to you, Lord Oropher, have I not? And this is your answer!"
Oropher had a small frown on his face. Rauwen wanted to wipe it off with her fist.
"You have been good to my people, and I am grateful. I would be honored to be your neighbor, and would endeavor to be a good neighbor to you as well. As for your village… how close is it to Amon Lanc? I did not know," Oropher said.
"Very close!" Rauwen shouted.
Oropher sighed heavily, still frowning. "I see. Amon Lanc is unique. There is simply no replacement for it. How quickly we could build a wall and battlements out of what remains is a large part of its advantage. I still believe it would be best for my people, and that we can contribute to this alliance best in this way."
"No. No!" Rauwen cried. "I will not have it!"
"It is not up to you alone," Braignir said, his voice steely. "This is not just about you, oh great Silvan prince. We need what he offers to drive the scourge from the north and west away, so we can all have peace and plenty again! Steel blades, experienced fighters — this is a boon I could not have imagined to pray for.
"I vote in favor of charging Oropher's clan with building our people a keep at Amon Lanc. Strenuously. In fact — if we can agree to this, I will send some people to you, Lord Oropher, to help erect your walls, in exchange for the first blades from your forge, and training."
Oropher nodded. "We could use many helping hands to build the fort. If we can send one of these delegations to the dwarves for ore, I will commit to arming your people as quickly as I can. Perhaps some of these young elves are willing to learn new skills — such as smithing."
"These growing techniques you speak of will work in a forest?" Nimdes asked. "We do not have open fields to grow grain."
"Menegroth was not called the city of a thousand caves for naught," Oropher said. "We grew much in caverns near the surface, not unlike a deep forest glen. I have people who helped build and tend them. They could teach you."
Celoman looked at Rauwen apologetically. "You would be directly to our south, Lord Oropher. We might take you up on your offer to take people to assist with building — or to seek refuge, if it came to that."
"You would be welcome," Oropher said with a small bow. "For now we are poor in earthly goods, but as you can see, we still have much to share."
Celoman and Nimdes exchanged a glance and nodded. "Then we vote 'aye' as well. Let the Sindar have Amon Lanc and make it a resource for all our people."
Rauwen could feel her hands beginning to shake with anger. She fingered her belt where her sword should be. Oropher had his own vote now. One more traitor in her own family and he would have this, this thing he had been scheming while his son had distracted her with chatter and woodcraft.
My lady, she felt the feathery brush of Ersidir's mind, speaking with her in osanwë in a calming tone.
Not now! She roared in her mind.
"Father," Braignir said quietly to Tawaren. Celoman nodded beside him.
Rauwen could see it in her uncle's eyes. He would give his sons what they both felt they desperately needed. She tried to think of more arguments to stop this from happening.
Tawaren closed his eyes, breathed deeply, then opened them again. "I say 'aye' to giving Amon Lanc to the Sindar, and the territory it sits in," he added. "We have tried this before, but as you say, your people know how to defend a keep in a way we never did. I pray that this is not folly. Lord Oropher, I warn you, you and your people must listen to my niece and take care not to cause her people harm. We will all be watching."
Rauwen swallowed, tasting bile. She wanted to scream. But people were still counting on her — young Silvans with the Greenwood's magic in their blood. She would not let Oropher and his beastly city sink their claws into this forest and turn it into something sacrilegious.
"Oropher, you will allow my clan to oversee this expansion, and teach your people how to move through the forest with a lighter touch. You will show us your growing techniques in return. I trust I do not need to debate this," Rauwen said coldly. "As for population, I will take Braignir's people now, since they are afraid for their children's safety. Mother —"
"Take my people, Rauwen," Lavangwen said. "Have them help the Sindar with building and preparing for winter. I can send you food for them if you need it."
Oropher bowed his head at her. "Tywysoges Rauwen, if we will be working together to ensure our mutual safety, then my lands will be open to your people this year, at the least We all must eat."
Rauwen nodded curtly. "You will need to split your people between building and preparing for winter. I cannot provide for you with everything else we must do now."
"Yes, that is fair. But if some of our people might join parties with yours, I would be grateful. You have knowledge that we seek to learn, about what can be gathered and how to do it without depleting food sources in future years."
"Yes, fine," Rauwen said. She hated everything about this. Combining clans with Oropher for a time was insult after injury.
Lenwë watched everything, his brow wrinkled sadly. "I have heard it said a good compromise ends with all parties unhappy. I can only hope that will prove that fruits of this plan will be worth the discomfort it costs us now."
Rauwen looked away from him, gathering herself to do what she was here for. Whatever happened, she would do her duty. To her people. To the Greenwood.
The rest of the Council passed by while her mind whirled. When Lenwë and Emrys dismissed them to go eat, Rauwen stalked out of the grove, quietly fuming.
(*)
Notes
Housekeeping: Hey everyone. I hope y'all are ok, given what's going on in the world. I will likely post the next chapter on February 22, per the normal cadence, as it's almost done. After that, I don't expect to stick so closely to the biweekly updates. I've had to rework my original plan for the timeline and it ate into my backlog. I'm writing slowly due to Reality Bullshit – you know? I wish I could keep it up, but I'm trying to give myself some grace. There's a kind of war happening in my country. It's a good reason to need to slow down.
Excited Chatter! Any continued encouragement or interest you care to share would be much appreciated. This chapter has been a long time coming and I'm really excited to share it with you! It's the big pivot in the slow-growing political plot! (I hope that makes the fact that it's a monster chapter full of dialogue ok.) I'd love to hear your reactions, predictions – anything you might be looking forward to, or are nervous about? If you'd like, of course.
On clan numbers: the numbers we ought to be talking about are hard to place. I looked at the Last Alliance records I've been able to find and didn't find an exact number of soldiers on each side. Realistically, historically, forces of more than 5,000 would be difficult to maintain simply because it would be hard to feed and house them for a long length of time. If I recall correctly, the Silvan elves were said to be the largest group of elves in the Last Alliance, but of course there were also humans in the last alliance. So, by the end of the second age, I'd love to say the elven population of the Greenwood should have grown into the low thousands.
We have to keep in mind that this is a forest kingdom: without clearing areas for large scale agriculture, villages and cities would have to be limited in size. So, I have Lenwë's clan of about 300 elves as unusually large, and the rest are comfortable in a self-sustaining village up into the ~120s until they need to split off into another location. I think it's inevitable that the clans are going to have to evolve to have more than one village per territory, personally, so Rauwen will have to deal with some satellite village headmen/headwomen overseeing groups she doesn't directly live with. But for now, things are on the smaller side in the Greenwood elven population. I think it is canon that Oropher's arrival coincides with population growth.
On Geography: I really mean to go through everything carefully and make sure I've got my geography of Greenwood straight, mark up a map… but I don't have energy to do more than look at the third age map and make sure I've noted things in a cohesive way in terms of the relative clan locations. Sorry. If you look at the third age map, Dol Guldur is in the location of Amon Lanc. Everything can be figured out from there.