»As his siblings became aware of the danger
it was almost too late.
A great war flared up between the Valar
and the second Gods that Melkor had created.
Manwë as well as Oromë were gravely wounded.
And while gods fought gods and no one had
their attention fixed on the burned Vala, did Melkor
spread vileness and monsters over
the entire world.
The battles of the gods were so tremendous
that the earth was shaken and that the north
was as if set on fire, so that even the Elves at
Cuivuinen could see what terror had rooted
its tendrils into the ground there.
Many millennia this war continued and as the first
Man tread, they were afraid and called upon their
patrons.
But the Valar were fighting battles to defend themselves
and the world, did not hear by all the clamor,
the desperate cries of Man.
Only one was there: Melkor.
He assured them his aid, blinded them with false promises,
secured himself many worshippers on every land.«
- The War of the Gods
Ered Luin, Falathlorn, Duillond, Early Spring in the Late Third Age
As the carriage arrived through the archway at the elven settlement of Duillond, the entire town appeared to be at unrest. Between the high houses that often had more similarities with stunted towers, was an ever moving mass of Elves. Around the fountain they had gathered and on the streets, in colorful piles or in randomly mixed groups, whispering or speaking out their opinion out loud for everyone to be heard.
The carriage had to hold. There was no coming through for Almsteinn and Lhûthindë. The Elf and the Dwarf stepped out of their vehicle, where the Dwarf left the young member of the Circle the precedence. Next to one another they strode up the road until they would reach the core of the unrest: Mixed in among the Elves of the town, there were the kinsmen of Almsteinn to be seen, clad in armor and armed as if they intended to go to war. Some of them argued with the Elves, at another place, two groups of the so different races stood before one another and simply fought a battle with looks and narrowed eyes. The closer one would get to the scholars' sanctum, the thicker would become the web of standing people, so that at some point, there was no going forwards or backwards for Lhûthindë and Almsteinn.
The Dwarf tried to fight his way through by poking the wall of living flesh and by pushing as well as he could, while Lhûthindë seemed to be able to slip through the tiniest gap.
»Almsteinn?«, the young Elf called over the clamor to make certain that the white-bearded loremaster would not be lost and in the end even hurt.
»Here!«, came the answer. From beneath the heaving mass, the walking stick of the Dwarf appeared.
»Can you get through or do you require my help?«
»I could make it, if I could just ...!«
That was enough for Lhûthindë to turn around. Her hands sought through the mass and finally grasped something that felt like Almsteinn's beard. Like in a reflex she pulled and immediately after she cursed herself for not thinking before acting. She would not like it either if someone would yank so strongly on her hair.
A grunt emerged from the depth that did not want to fit Almsteinn's voice at all. One moment later, the face of a Dwarf came into her vision, her hand wrapped tightly around his black beard and two dark eyes sparkling with anger at her. Before Lhûthindë could retreat, she received a painful smack of an iron clad gauntlet on her hand, that she drew sharply air. Still startled, she was being pushed.
»What by Mahal, do you think you are doing, knife-ear?« The black-bearded Dwarf closed in on her and by his expression he was shortly from erupting like a volcano. »If it's a brawl you want, it is what you will get. About time to teach you lanky folk a lesson.«
»Begone, rascal!« The hunched over form of Almsteinn stepped between the Dwarf and Lhûthindë. »Go and mind your own business. And while you are at it, you could remind yourself of the courtesy of acting like a guest in these lands.«
»And who are you to deny me my right of remediation? I say this Elf started and will now earn what she deserves. Pack off, greybeard, before I beat you black and blue with your own club.«
But Almsteinn did not move an inch. His bushy eyebrows moved and his forehead was laid in folds. »It cannot be far with your strength if you need to prove it on an old Dwarf and a woman of Elfkind, lad.«
The anyway angered face of the Dwarf was now acquiring a deep crimson tone. He bared his teeth and advanced further on the duo. Two more Dwarves, quite similar armored like the rascal were moving to their sides, so that there was no chance for Lhûthindë and Almsteinn to escape.
The young member of the Circle could not believe what she had slipped into. She did not even have the opportunity to apologize for her mistake and even if she did, she doubted that it could cool the ire of the Dwarf.
Almsteinn reached warningly forward with his walking stick. »Better it would be if you throw a look on us, before you make yourself unhappy.«
The rascal grunted, but complied. His eyes scanned Almsteinn and Lhûthindë's attire, the brocade jacket of the old Dwarf and the robes of the Elf, their faces. Suddenly he appeared to pipe down. His anger made space for a deep frown.
»I did not know who you are.«
»Nay, you did not. Best for you to apologize for your behavior.«
With raised eyebrows the rascal blinked once at Almsteinn. Then he turned around without saying another word and disappeared in the mass of Elves and Dwarves. His two bullying comrades followed him.
»That was close«, Lhûthindë said. They quickly sought a way to leave the center of the upheaval. »And thank you, Almsteinn.«
The Dwarf gave her an encouraging nod. »The tempers today are short. But as quick as they are risen, they usually win back their level-headedness. It is these that seek troubles for Goblin come out of his cave, that we must avoid.«
Almsteinn was right, Lhûthindë thought. Tempers of both Dwarves and Elves were incredibly short this day. And the youngest member of the Circle wondered why. But she knew that now was the worst time of any for an escalation between the two people. Her eyes sought for a path through the mass and as she advanced, Almsteinn remained close to her. Soon Lhûthindë found that it was no use, searching in the crowd for valuable information that could help her uncover the reasons for this unrest.
Emotions of anger, confoundedness and perplexity flew against her hundredfold and those they asked could not answer their questions. It was only repeated what she knew from Almsteinn already: A lord of the dwarven-folk had arrived all of the sudden, had requested to see the Hirgonui of the Mithdirith and since then had vanished inside the scholars' enclave. According to most, that lay now several hours back.
Lhûthindë grasped Almsteinn by the shoulder. »Wait. It is no use striding without course through this mass of folk. Let us find the rest of the Circle.«
»And how will we do that?«
Lhûthindë smiled. »Leave that to me.« With these words, the Elf fell quiet and apparently remained motionless on her spot. Such it would appear to anyone else at first, but Lhûthindë's aura began to move as if someone would have tossed a pebble into a pond. Many ripples went through its blue.
Cirionar? That was, what she heard in her own mind. The name echoed long through her spirit, without that she received an answer. Lhûthindë did not give up. Lavarsíndel had taught her this form of communication. Of course, it was not always reliable and she would not be able to speak to Cirionar as if standing face to face with him, but would he respond, then she would be able to determine his rough whereabouts in this crowd. If he was any close.
The Circle, so Lavarsíndel had explained it to her, used this technique mainly to show one another visions of dreams or places and events they had seen. Those that were the best versed in this empathetic transfer could focus the searchlight of their spirits over many miles and grasp a small idea of what the other Elf thought or felt. Still, it worked the best if one stood directly before the other.
Cirionar?, Lhûthindë had not given up looking for the Indur and finally she received a reply. It was no sound or tone. Rather could she feel the presence of Cirionar about her, she recognized his aura and his being. And she knew that he was not far away, nor was he alone.
»They are by the enclave«, Lhûthindë said finally.
The Dwarf raised the bushy eyebrows. He surely knew about most of the Circle's methods to stay in contact with one another. Or did he?
Almsteinn's surprise did not hold for long and neither did he inquire how Lhûthindë would know. Instead he seemed to trust completely on what she said and together they turned around to make their way to the enclave.
Although it were less than three hundred steps, they required quite a while to overcome the way. Groups of Elves and Dwarves shifted their position, barred their path like mountains or closed gaps that had just been open for them to pass through. At least this time the pair managed to avoid any trouble.
A line of blue and silver clad wardens came into view, guards of the Mithdirith, who held back anyone who sought to enter the enclave of the scholars.
Also Lhûthindë and Almsteinn were stopped by the wall of shields and blinking spears.
»You can let them through.« A figure in a white robe had appeared behind the wardens. Silver hair flew in curls about a lovely face. The lips had acquired a smile. Manadhlaer, the Beloved performed the ceremonial greeting of the Circle as soon as Lhûthindë and Almsteinn had passed behind the protective line. »I greet you, Lhûthindë and you, I welcome, Master Almsteinn.«
Manadhlaer bore her name rightfully, for of all of the Circle, she was the most beautiful to behold and she was renowned for her skill as musician and singer. »Cirionar said you would have arrived, so I hurried here to make certain you would reach us. The wardens are quite strict in the face of such an edgy crowd.«
»I thank you, Manadhlaer of the Circle. Your presence is like a cover against a powerful storm«, Almsteinn replied and bowed, as far as his old bones allowed him.
Manadhlaer's shoulders quivered in a frivolous chuckle. »Here you are safe, indeed. Come, the others wait on the western side of the courtyard.«
The enclave was a single building, built in the common elvish fashion of the West. It was round, possessed large, colored windows in which the light was broken and reflected by a number of cunningly arranged mirrors in the frame. Like a kaleidoscope, it threw the colors unto the white marble of the courtyard. Depending on the position of the sun, the hence created pictures would move and who would take the time to observe the play an entire day, would find a slowly proceeding scene of Elves, handling scrolls and reading out of enormous tomes.
The trio passed into the colorful spectre, broke the picture with their shadows.
A moment later, they stood before an elven woman and a man, both wore the robes of the Circle. The expression of the lady stood in stark contract to that of Manadhlaer; strict and solemn like the wardens, just deeper so. The black hair she kept neatly in a ordered braid that only emphasized her seriousness.
The elven lord however came up smiling to the three. His hair was silver and he bore the aura of a leader, both old and exalted. His face radiated kindness.
»Cirionar and Isilmewen«, Lhûthindë greeted them, formed her hands into the shape of an Alfirin petal.
»I see you arrived sound and well«, Cirionar said after dipping his head. »I was afraid that trouble might find you and our guest.«
»None worth mentioning«, Almsteinn answered and performed a complete bow. »It is an honor to finally meet you.«
»Likewise, my dwarven college.« Cirionar moved to appoint the elderly loremaster the direction to the marble banks, where he could rest his weary legs.
Lhûthindë threw a look at Isilmewen. The former student of Cirionar, who bore the name The Fierce, had not spoken a single word. Lhûthindë did inquire early that Isilmewen was as stubborn as she was renowned for her power. And she seemed to prefer a certain distance to the stunted folk.
Cirionar, Lhûthindë and Isilmewen remained a bit back, while a constantly smiling Manadhlaer was leading the exhausted Almsteinn to the place where he could have a short rest.
The youngest member turned to look at Cirionar. As soon as the Dwarf had gone out of earshot, the smile on the silver-haired Elf's lips had disappeared, made space for the ever wistful and distant expression. To Lhûthindë it seemed as if Cirionar would constantly be worried and if she was honest, very seldom she had seen him smile, at all.
She wondered what had happened, what burden Cirionar carried that had turned him into such a quiet Elf.
»Almsteinn said that a dwarven lord has come into our lands. Is that the reason for this commotion?«
Isilmewen turned her gaze to Lhûthindë and nodded. »Partly, yes. The lord is a veteran of war of the folk of Durin and he came here accompanied by his private army to speak with the grand master of the Mithdirith.«
Cirionar clicked his tongue, shook his head softly. »I would not call it a private army, Isilmewen.«
»What would you call it then?«, the black haired Elf responded. With a wide sway of her arm she indicated the crowd of Elves and Dwarves. »Look at them. Armed to the teeth, that someone would think they would come for an invasion. Their leader literally barricaded himself with the Hirgonui in the scholar's sanctum. That seems to be the reason for the unrest. The Dwarves acted like this place was their dominion.«
Lhûthindë raised her eyebrows. That sounded much like a siege to her.
Cirionar pointed over to the wardens that had sealed off the entrance to the courtyard, then over to the actual doors of the sanctum's building.
Just now did Lhûthindë see that three Dwarves guarded them. The broadest of them stood right before the gates. »Dwarves and Elves make sure that lord Asudrom and Hirgonui Curugirion are not disturbed. Not even us they let through.«
The youngest member of the Circle gulped. If the grand master of the Mithdirith denied even the Circle hearing to what was spoken about, how serious would the topic be? Was it because of Perdór's letter, the stirring of Angmar?
Suddenly Lhûthindë felt a feeling rise that she also thought to read on Isilmewen's face. They both could not understand how they were supposed to help the Mithdirith, if their leader kept secrets from them. After all, they were no servants. Yes, Curugirion and his companions were an exalted herth, but nevertheless did Lhûthindë see herself as equal to them. She always have had the impression that both factions were the mere ingredients to success; that one required the other. Her gaze shifted back to Cirionar.
Did he know more than he let on? The strongest of the Circle gave nothing away, even if he did know something. His expression was as if hewn into stone. Calm, unmoving, with that wistful tone around the edges of the thin lips.
Suddenly there was movement in the crowd. The sound of a horn rang up three times, echoed through the entire settlement.
Elves and Dwarves alike backed away from the silver blinking line of steel that made its way towards the enclave. The rhythmic clapping of hooves had brought all conversations to cease. All simply gazed in awe at the new arrival and they knew that it would better not to tread or even defy them in their path.
To the front rode a majestic figure, clad in a full armor. In his wake followed the bannerelf, bearing the Alfirin flower, wreathed with Oiolairë. The company of what seemed to be good thirty of the order-knights rode through the line of the wardens. For a moment, Lhûthindë thought the furthermost rider would tread down the Dwarves before him, but he held his steed at bay at the last moment. Two of the Dwarves backed away, but the broadest of them did not move an inch.
In silence the two seemed to estimate one another.
Excited did Lhûthindë observe what would happen next.
»There is no coming through«, the broad guard growled, »Not for anyone, unless lord Asudrom says otherwise.«
The elvish rider seemed to hesitate. He reached up to his silver adorned, full visor helmet, lifted it and held it beneath his arm. The other hand he rested on the hilt of his sword.
His golden-blond hair fell down the armored shoulders and back, the deep blue eyes gazed upon the stunted figure of the Dwarf. »These are the lands of the Elves and your people are guests.« The Dwarf looked back up at the rider as he continued: »I am Aearandir of Thamas Lorn, Seneschal of the Mithdirith. I demand of you to step aside peacefully, so that I may go to my liege.«
Aearandir's horse sidled about for a moment. The sight that the seneschal and his followers gave off was tremendously intimidating and the crowd was still as if caught in a stasis. Only the broad Dwarf remained standing on his spot. »I cannot do so without my master's permission.«
»I do not like to repeat myself, Dwarf: You are the guest here and you will behave accordingly! The occupation of this enclave was not your right. And if you do not submit, we will take it back by force!«
These words were like a sudden thunder in the silence. Lhûthindë's heart made a jump up to her throat. A clash between these kinfolks would take an bloody end. One that she had not even dared to think of. Both sides had their tempers heated and neither would step aside for the other.
»Halt!«, did someone call and Almsteinn came hobbling to the seneschal and the Dwarf guardian. »Are you two so proud and stubborn, that you must threaten to tear each other apart?«
»And who are you, that you deem yourself capable of lecturing me?« The eyes of Aearandir darted towards Almsteinn.
Lhûthindë lost no further moment. Quickly she was at the old Dwarf's side to aid him. »He is Almsteinn of the Longbeards and a great loremaster and invoker of runes.«
She seemed to have surprised Aearandir, for the elven knight blinked for a moment at her and the old Dwarf. »Lhûthindë, the Merciful of the Circle. An honor, but a bad time to meet one another. I stated my demands and I will have them enforced if not complied.«
»I do not question your judgement. I know your sword defended these lands often and loyal, even to the time ere I was born. Hence I allow myself not to advice you on the questions of battle or war, but I know also that it is said that you are wise and who is wise will find it to his liking to listen what a good heart has to say.«
Aearandir stroked over his smooth chin before he started to chuckle. »You do know how to erase any disaccord. To ward my face before the others, I deem I have no choice but to let you speak master Almsteinn, before I take any further action.« His gaze descended from Lhûthindë to the old Dwarf and with a nod he gave the sign for him to speak.
»By all your stubbornness, you cannot see behind the curtain of true events«, Almsteinn began and addressed both the seneschal and the broad Dwarf. »Is only a misunderstanding required that Elves and Dwarves draw weapons at one another? is our friendship so thinly sown?« He turned to Aearandir. »Milord, the Folk of Durin never intended an invasion or any form of occupation upon the Elves of the West. To the contrary! Your liege and lord Asudrom discuss a closer knit work of both kins.« Almsteinn tilted his head at the broad Dwarf, guarding still the door. With a loud click, he hit the marble floor with his walking stick. »Am I not right?«
Slowly the guardian nodded. »As the lords entered the building, I was tasked to let no one in.«
Lhûthindë could see how Aearandir frowned and thought of what had been said. He licked over his lips, then he gave his knights the sign to dismount. He climbed first out of the saddle, then the others followed his example.
Even standing, Aearandir towered over Lhûthindë. The heavy armor gave his anyway athletic build something yet more powerful. »Your words make sense. None of my knights will raise their hands against you«, he promised.
»I am glad you made that realization, seneschal«, Cirionar suddenly said. With a nod, both approving and meant as a greeting he came up to them, Isilmewen and Manadhlaer to each side.
»Cirionar, the Just! And Isilmewen, the Fierce and Manadhlaer, the Beloved; you of all, including Lhûthindë, I would have expected at the side of my lord. To lend him your united supreme wisdom, would he need it.« The seneschal seemed not to let himself halted from planting a subtle kiss on the hand of Manadhlaer.
»Even we are excluded from the meeting between Asudrom and Curugirion. One can only wonder what they speak about in detail«, the beloved answered.
Cirionar raised both his arms and everyone seemed to look upon him. Even Aearandir and the broad Dwarf seemed to have forgotten their dispute in the face of the exalted figure of the first of the Circle. »I would find it wise to rely on our patience and level-headedness. The dwarven lord and the grand master will as long as they will and would either require any help, they would send for us.« He looked at everyone, until his gaze rested on Almsteinn. »I would also follow the words of Master Almsteinn. The minds of Elves and Dwarves before the courtyard require soothing. I would ask you, seneschal, to keep the rascals apart and the others shall explain the situation, so that this confoundedness finds finally its end.«
No one seemed to speak against the first of the Circle. Even Aearandir nodded without any comment, so that the knights mounted up and turned around to bring order into the crowd. Isilmewen and Manadhlaer also turned into that direction to follow Cirionar's instructions to ease the minds of both folks. Almsteinn followed in their wake.
As Lhûthindë wanted to go after them, she heard Cirionar's voice in her back. »Lhûthindë? Would you mind remaining with me?«
Surprised she turned around. »Should I not help the others.«
Cirionar shook his head. »They will manage alone.«
He led her over the courtyard and towards the gardens of the enclave. For a while the silver-haired Elf was quiet and Lhûthindë did not really know why he had asked her to accompany him. His face was set once more as if made from rock. Maybe he just liked the company, she thought.
»Very impressive word-play. Tricking the seneschal into complying to listen to Almsteinn«, Cirionar praised her and chuckled amused.
Lhûthindë was forced to smile. Despite all their duties, she found Cirionar to be a close friend and she could not help but to rejoice about the little frivolity. »Believe me, I was glad, when he did not defy me.«
»Well«, the oldest of the Circle said and shrugged with his shoulders. »You are one of the Circle. We are not easily defied or dealt with, with a simple no.«
Another short pause followed, before Cirionar spoke to her again. »I would like to ask you, if you were willing to travel to Imladris, Lhûthindë. I would like you to acquire a sword from the time of Gondolin for us, that I would like to see in the ward of the Circle's sanctum.«
»Why so?«
»Because there had been thefts of these particular swords. Even Imladris does not seem safe anymore. I will give you a replica of the blade, which I would like you to give the owner of the blade. He maybe needs a bit convincing to part from his treasure, but tell him that it is just a temporary safe-keeping, yes? I am sure, you will manage with your abilities.«
Lhûthindë nodded slowly at Cirionar, saw how troubled he looked with his brows deeply furrowed. »Of course, Cirionar. Though, who would steal elvish blades from that era and for what purpose?«
Cirionar sighed exhausted. »If we only knew, Lhûthindë.«
