《West of Arda》Losengriol

2、Chapter two

　　A week later, I returned to home to a great sadness and despair. I instantly made to withdraw from the front gate, but one of the ladies-in-waiting already anticipated this and took my arm.

　　With a gravity that she herself was surprised by, she brought me to Lady Finw?lae’s study and announced my arrival.

　　Confused and worried, I stepped into the study. When I left for Rumil’s house this morning, I did catch glimpse of a pair of rare visitors – Lord Námo and his son, Lord ?mar Lord ?mar was the husband of the King-sister, although he resided mostly in the far north of Aman, close to his father’s hall. Now, Lord Námo was the god of death, the Doomsman of Ainurs. Everywhere he had been, there would be sorrow, gloom and depression.

　　Inside the study, there was Lady Finw?lae, next to her was my mother, who sat uneasily as if the soft silk cushions in the King-sister’s residence had grown thorns. Father sat at far corner, close to the open window. His face was hidden in the shadow.

　　I knew something was wrong then.

　　Father and mother usually resided east over the Plain of Losengriol in a small town of few thousands named after the same plain it was built upon. It was almost a day’s ride to Tirion and another day’s to Valmar. Apart from holidays, begetting days and special summons from the King, they would rarely venture out to Tirion.

　　I was taken to Tirion as a babe. The King-sister raised me until mother was hail enough to be released from Lórien. There were whispers of having me back to live with my folk in Losengriol before, but somehow she kept me in Tirion, and this was one of the many things we did not talk about.

　　She was not doting or endearing as I was growing up. There were curfews, grounding, lecturing, labouring and the odd occasions of whipping. I learnt to be stealth of what I was up to.

　　The study was brightly lit with the many lamps Lady Finw?lae wrought herself or was given to her as gifts from her family. She sat upright and straight in the carved chair made of whitewood. Her lustrous dark hair was braided in the fashion of Noldorin royalty with threads of gold and piled high to her head. Her eyes were grey just like her brother’s and they glinted like metal under the brilliant light.

　　“Please be seated, child.” She motioned me to sit down in one of the empty chairs along the wall, normally reserved for guests or the occasional people wanting counsels.

　　Nothing in her tone made me think it was negotiable. I sat down obediently. In my head however, I was frantically going through the recent wrongdoings I thought I had hidden very well from her. There were the forbidden trips to the bay water, a small rowboat I was working on under the instruction of Uinen, then the demands for Ecthelion to make me a pair of chains and balls – which I called “Meteor Hammer”, for they looked like fallen stars that Varda made in haste.

　　After I sat myself in the fashion she did not find disdainful, Lady Finw?lae cleared her throat and spoke in an even tone. “We have received instructions from the mighty Aratars. They have requested you to be delivered to the Hall of the Spirits to learn the secret craft. You should prepare to journey in the ‘morrow.”

　　Shocked I was. Her words made no sense. No living had gone to the Hall of the Spirits, which was located to the westernmost of Aman, as well as Arda. Lord Námo, despite being my nominal ancestor, did not partake in family gathering or children rearing. Even my father’s father, the Maiar of Poetry, resided far apart in the shadowy North and rarely engaged in the daily business of living beings.

　　I did not understand the sudden interest from the Avatars.

　　“Why would they want me?” I asked, “What about V?ssaire and Fányamaro? Isn’t V?ssaire an accomplished weaver and Fányamaro well-read in poetry and music? I am content for now. “

　　The King-sister stared at me in disbelief. Perhaps she expected me to be prostrating in gratitude and joy, rather than refusal. Soon her disbelief turned into anger.

　　“So I heard.” Her pose was still elegant and her tone smooth. However, there was a glint of malice. “You seemed to have found a nice distraction. That beautiful boy, son of Eldarion, I recalled seeing you simping after him like puppy over a bone---”

　　“That is none of your business!” I cried out. I could not stand her casual disdain towards Ecthelion and the way I felt about him. I loved him as a dear friend, in this lonely white cage named Tirion. The way she said was almost dirty and shameful.

　　Lady Finw?lae smiled victoriously, as if she just caught me hot handed in the pastry tin. “So you do love him. No wonder you have been behaving yourself recently, in order to make good impression. “

　　She paused; a knowing smirk flickered across her face. “Young love is always so hot-headed and foolish. Look at you! What are you, next to the daughters and granddaughters of my dear brother! Why would the only son of Lord Eldarion, the faithful liege and advisor to my King brother, choose you, while he could take any others.”

　　Anger also roused in my heart. “Fine! I will go, if you could kindly keep quiet about your foul opinions! I will not leave tomorrow. I am not prepared. Next day I will make ready, and you can then enjoy yourself alone!”

　　With that, I pushed away the chair, and stalked out in haste.

　　That night, I went through a wild array of distorted dreams. In one of them, I was kissing a little babe that had tufts of soft black hair and alarmingly bright blue-grey eyes while Ecthelion placed a small ringlet of diamonds onto her head. In another one, I was pierced by curved elven arrow and buried alive under the deep dark soil. When the dreams finally ended, all I could remember was the last one where he rode after a beautiful maid on a white stallion. The two riders laughed and sang and disappeared into the forested valley as evening came.

　　I had no foresight. Which dream would come true I could not tell.