The sun hung low in the sky when the two riders sighted the grey spires of Mithlond rising above the Bay of Lhûn. As they drew closer to the Grey Havens, the call of the gulls wheeling above the quays grew louder and more insistent. Cúrandir watched in silent wonder as the great stone ramparts of the city rose up before them. At the gate, an arch carven with the likenesses of blooming flowers and foaming waves, a guard stopped them and Falasgil dismounted, speaking with him in an undertone. Cúrandir hung back, still gazing at the city in awe. How different Mithlond was than Imladris - the haven of his birth had been a small settlement tucked into a hidden valley. The domes and arches of the city ahead made the House of Elrond seem provincial in comparison. And all gleamed with the age-worn sheen of greying stone, wrapped in a solemn, decaying beauty. It was here that many of the Eldar would turn back for their last sight of the Hither Lands before departing West to Aman.
All these thoughts, and several others, passed through Cúrandir's mind as he and Falasgil entered the gate and rode through the streets of Mithlond. The hooves of their horses made a dull clop-clop upon the worn cobblestones. Amloth whinnied nervously, not accustomed to long streets paved with stone, and the continual traffic of merchants, artisans, and other inhabitants of the city. Cúrandir laid a comforting hand upon his horse's neck, speaking low to him in a soothing voice. Soon they came to a crossroads, and Falasgil reined in his horse, motioning for Cúrandir to do likewise.
"That road to the west leads to the Shipbuilders' Quarter." He waved a graceful hand in that direction. "My sister's husband, Súlrohir, works there in the shipyard. To the north-east, there is the Square of Merchants, where my sister often goes on market-days. The fishermen come there to sell their wares, as well. If you follow the road south-west past the shipyards, you will come to the Old Quarter and the Square of Círdan. All the oldest buildings are there, built along the quays. My home is to the north, along this road here. Ningloriel has a shop in the Square of Merchants where she sells her wares and repairs sails that have already been made."
Cúrandir nodded, taking in the grandeur and breadth of the city with astonishment. "Is it a long ways to your home?" Absentmindedly he added," How does one keep a horse in this city, which is all grey stone and smooth cobbles? "
Falasgil gave a bubbly laugh. "Oh no, during the summer, Limros runs free in the marshes northwest of the city. It is only the better part of a day's walk - I will show you sometime. He was once wild, before I tamed him. It is a magnificent sight to see entire herds of horses running free in the salt-water marshes which border the Gulf of Lhûn. But in the autumn and winter Limros is happy to stay in the stable near our home, for the sea-shore is a harsh place to be when the rains come. I make sure he never lacks for exercise, and we get on quite well. I am sure Amloth will not mind the stable either."
"No, of course not. Yet I would like to see the marshes north of Mithlond some time, Falasgil." Cúrandir laughed in return.
"We shall have time to see them once your lodgings are settled and we have our enlistment done. " Falasgil whistled to Limros, who picked up his pace slightly as they turned to the northwest.
The wide thoroughfare that had led from the first crossroads branched out into many smaller roads, all paved with grey stone that glimmered in the afternoon light. Falasgil led them onwards through the city, past many turns and crossings, until the road began to wind steadily uphill. There were no merchants hawking their wares here, or even the occasional cart filled to the brim with lumber for the shipyards or fish from the quays. Instead, rows of houses lined the street, and the contented sound of waves lapping against the sea-wall rose to their left. Here, the grand spires and elegant arches of the inner city gave way to gentler and simpler masonry. Every so often, Falasgil would hail a passer-by, sometimes even riding up to the front garden of a house to warmly greet a friend or neighbor. Cúrandir watched with great amusement as they rode past a house where two young ellith were sewing in the front garden. Falasgil whistled at them, waved his hand merrily, and tossed them a few rowan blossoms that had been twined in his hair. The girls looked up, shrieked with merriment, then scrambled to pick up the flowers.
Cúrandir arched a brow as they rode away, the sound of the girls' laughter and excited chattering fading into the distance.
"I did not know you had such ardent admirers," he said amusedly.
"Ah, no, they are merely some good friends of mine. The flowers are sort of a private joke among us. Their father is a shipwright, and a good friend of Súlrohir's." He smiled, as if remembering fond memories. "The tall one with dark hair is Síriel, and the younger one is Aeril. You would do well to keep out of their way when they are in a mischievous mood. Ah, the pranks they pulled on the dock-workers as youngsters!"
"Somehow, I do not doubt you were just as guilty as they, concerning the pranks," Cúrandir retorted with a smile.
At the end of a narrow lane bordered with a neatly clipped hedge lay a modest-looking house of weathered stone. It lay on the extreme western end of the street, the back windows facing west over the sea-wall that rose from the shore. Two wings of the house ran back from the street, encircling a garden blooming with flowers that Cúrandir had never seen before. Briar roses grew over the sunny doorway, their pale pink blossoms swaying in the sea breeze. Falasgil's smile grew brighter as they approached the lane, and when they drew near the house he vaulted from his horse's back and ran towards the door. He rang the brass bell hanging by the door, and in a moment it opened to reveal the smiling face of an elleth.
She wore a thick canvas apron over a simple dress of blue linen. Her wavy golden hair was tied back in a neat but winsome braid that coiled over one shoulder and fell to her waist. As she saw Falasgil, her blue eyes glimmered with happiness and her mouth curved into a wide, dimpled smile.
"Falasgil! What a pleasant surprise! I had not expected you until the turning of the autumn, which is near a fortnight away. " She turned away from the door and called into the hallway, "Súlrohir! Falasgil is home early. Can you spare a few minutes and help him with his un-packing?"
Cúrandir had dismounted, but stood several paces away from the doorway, unsure of what to say in the face of this joyous reunion. Aloof and feeling very much out of place, he laid one hand on Amloth's bridle and watched as Súlrohir emerged from a side door, wearing a leather apron dusty with wood-shavings. Falasgil embraced both his sister and her husband fondly, but then turned towards Cúrandir.
"Sister, brother, I have a friend I must introduce to you. This is Cúrandir, whom I met hunting in Forlindon. Cúrandir, these are my sister Ningloriel and my law-brother Súlrohir. " He strode over to Cúrandir, draping an arm around his shoulders with a grin. "Cúrandir here is an excellent archer - in fact he helped me take down the stag whose head you see here, preserved as a trophy."
Ningloriel raised an eyebrow at Falasgil, turning her laughing gaze upon him. "A fine prize, though I wonder where we shall place it in the house." She smiled warmly at Cúrandir, who was still awkwardly standing with Falasgil's arm around his shoulders. "Welcome, Cúrandir. You really must not mind my brother here, he has the unfortunate habit of acquiring friends wherever he goes. Come in, you must be tired from travelling so long. Súlrohir, see to it that their horses are stabled, please." She bustled into the hallway, and already they could hear the sound of dishes being drawn out in the kitchen, and glasses being set upon the table.
Súlrohir turned to Cúrandir and bowed. "It is my pleasure to meet any friend of Falasgil's. Would you mind if I stabled your mount?" He brushed back a lock of dark hair that had found its way out of the woven hair-tie at the nape of his neck. His face was broad and good-natured, his countenance lightly tanned from time spent in the shipyards or out at sea. Wide, callused hands grasped Limros' bridle as Súlrohir turned to speak with Falasgil for a moment.
"If you could show me the stable ... I think Amloth would be happier if I were to lead him there." Cúrandir said, nodding at Súlrohir. There was something about him that set one immediately at ease, whether in the forthright smile on his face, or the confident set of his broad shoulders.
In a few moments the horses were settled, and Tancamir followed Falasgil in kicking off his boots at the door. He entered the low hallway, hung with delicately woven tapestries in shades of silver, blue, and grey. The inside of the house was in keeping with its humble, yet welcoming exterior. Rugs woven of fine rope lay upon the tiled floor, and Cúrandir could not help but stare at some of the sea-shells, driftwood carvings, and other curios which graced each room. All this time he kept silent out of suspense, not knowing what would come of his meeting with Falasgil's family.
Falasgil, sensing his friend's mood, clapped him on the back and grinned reassuringly. "Really, Cúrandir, there is no reason to look so serious. Ningloriel and Súlrohir love you already, I am sure of it. Besides, this house is also my own, and there is no reason why a friend of mine would not be welcomed here."
"Do you think your sister will agree to your ... idea?" Cúrandir frowned. "You seem quite confident in your own ... charms to persuade her."
Falasgil rolled his eyes and gave Cúrandir's shoulder a playful shove. "Of course; I am the baby of the family, and she would not deny me such a favour. Do not worry about anything. Remember, if worst comes to worst there is always the basement ..."
Cúrandir laughed. "You would not dare!" He glanced down the hall, towards the table which Ningloriel had set with plates of fruit, bread and glasses of wine. "Should we go to the table? Your sister seems to have something prepared for us, and I will not deny that I am famished after travelling all day."
Once all were seated, Ningloriel turned to Cúrandir. "I hope you like white wine - there is not much of the other kind in the cellar at present. " She poured each one a glass, then motioned at the platter of fruit. "Please, help yourself. As Falasgil seems to have taken a fancy to you, make yourself at home." Her blue eyes, fringed with long lashes, seemed to be perpetually laughing and filled with light. Though she did not resemble Falasgil at first glance, Cúrandir could now discern the family connection in her eyes and the particular way her mouth dimpled when she smiled.
Falasgil took a large handful of berries and finished them off, then turned to his sister with a grin. "You would not mind if Cúrandir stayed with us in Mithlond for a while, would you? He and I will enlist in the Guard together. " He flashed a winsome smile at Ningloriel. "Please? I can have the guest room made up for him; I am sure it will be no trouble."
Ningloriel gave a sigh of fond exasperation. "Whether I mind or no, you seem to have your heart set on it. Cúrandir may stay with us for a time, but first I would like to hear how you two met. " She turned her blue eyes upon Cúrandir. "Your are welcome to stay here, if you have no home in Lindon."
He nodded gratefully at her, then glanced sidewise at Falasgil, who seemed to be occupied with his glass of wine. Cúrandir gave his shoulder a prod, then laughed as Falasgil glared at him.
"I travelled here from Imladris, and happened upon Falasgil in the woods of Forlindon. I was hunting." Cúrandir began rather awkwardly.
With a grin, Falasgil cut him off and began to regale Ningloriel and Súlrohir, who had unobtrusively joined them a few minutes ago, with the tale of the deer shot by two different arrows. Cúrandir watched with amusement as Falasgil recounted their archery competition in lively terms, his hands gesturing animatedly.
"Do you see, Ningloriel? Cúrandir means to settle in Lindon now, and if he were to live with us it would be like having a brother my own age. " Falasgil beamed at his sister. "I would get into so much less trouble with Cúrandir to keep me in check."
"Somehow, I doubt that," Ningloriel replied, eyes twinkling with merriment. "But I think that remains to be seen, hm?" She rose from her chair and smiled. "You two enjoy your refreshment; I have some weaving which ought to be finished before evening. If you are truly serious about this, Falasgil, you shall make up the guest-room for your friend. There are some things that even I will not do for you." With a rustle of her dress she swept out of the kitchen, pausing only to look back over her shoulder and call out, "And remember to clear away the dishes when you are done, Falasgil."
The bread and fruit gradually disappeared from the table, as did most of the wine. Cúrandir was not sure what to think, having expected a more thorough inquisition on the part of Falasgil's sister. But her welcoming manner had put him at ease, and when the repast was finished he rose to his feet and began helping Falasgil to clear the table. With amusement he watched as Falasgil recounted the minute peculiarities of how the dishes were to be washed, dried, and arranged in the cupboards.
"You will have the guest room, then. " Falasgil put away the last plate and closed the cabinet softly. "Come on, and bring your belongings from the front room. Leave your share of venison, but bring everything else." With a wink he ducked into a side corridor, motioning Cúrandir to follow.
The guest room faced west across the bay, arched windows opening to a view of the back garden and the sea beyond it. In a few moments, Cúrandir had placed his bow and quiver against the wall, and began arranging his other belongings in the chest of drawers which stood on the southern wall of the room. It was simple and not at all like his room in Imladris, which had been decorated with several trophies of deer antlers and a large tapestry depicting a hunting-scene in Doriath, embroidered by his mother. Falasgil entered a moment later carrying an armful of pillows and linens.
"These are for the bed - I think we will have to change the sheets as we have not had guests for some while. Here, catch!" He flung a pillow somewhat comically at Cúrandir, then deposited the rest of the things upon the bed.
Cúrandir caught the pillow, regarding his friend with detached amusement. "Do you never run out of energy? It must be tiring to be this cheerful all the time. I myself am rather tired from travelling most of the day."
"Well, I prefer being tired and cheerful to being rested and unhappy, " Falasgil quipped. "If you cannot look on the bright side of things you miss half the fun in life. At any rate, you may rest but I would prefer if you were awake for the evening meal. Ningloriel makes the most delicious oysters you have ever tasted."
"I cannot say I have ever tasted oysters in my life, so I will prepare to be surprised, " Cúrandir replied. After tucking in the corner of the sheet, he looked at the neatly made bed and frowned, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Now, what of our enlistment in the Guard? Surely one does not simply walk up to the Sergeant and give one's name?"
"No, of course not," Falasgil said. "Yet they will not ask you too many questions. It is rather expected of all able youths to serve as recruits one time or another when they are of age. Leave the talking to me, and stop worrying like a fractious old matron. Is not Mithlond beautiful? Think of all the fun we will have here, and not of such petty matters."
"Life is not merely about fun," Cúrandir retorted with a smirk. "If you did not have me to keep you in line I would wager you would be finding a way to dodge enlistment again."
"And if you did not have me to keep you light-hearted, I'd wager you would always walk around with that sullen face of yours, making sarcastic remarks at all the world." Falasgil laughed merrily. "But I am not that stupid as to dodge enlistment. Tomorrow we will pay a visit to the garrison and put our names on the list, as it were."
Cúrandir nodded in content, a smile lighting his face. "It is good to hear you talking responsibly for once. Show me the rest of the house, then. And I would also like to see the stables. We have some time before the evening meal, do we not?"
Falasgil nodded, beaming. "Very well. Come along then, my room is down the hall and I think there are some trophies there that would interest you." He paused, then broke into riotous laughter. "Oh stars above, speaking of trophies, where are we going to put that deer head we brought home from Forlindon? I would put it in my room, for we all know that I shot first, but for the fact that there are simply too many things upon my walls. Perhaps we can convince Ningloriel to put it up in the front room?"
"You rascal, you know perfectly well I that I shot first," Cúrandir retorted. "Why not put it in the guest room, as it seems I will be staying there for the foreseeable future." He shoved Falasgil's shoulder, then followed him outside into the hall. The sound of their companionable bickering, punctuated by Falasgil's musical laugh, faded into the afternoon as they continued down the hall, sharing memories and hoping to make new ones together upon the grey-paved streets of Mithlond.
