Mirdanel took her hand and grasped it reassuringly, with unexpected strength. She had always wondered at how an elleth with such small hands could forge as well as she did. But then for a Mirdan, small hands were a benefit. Istuil had seen the Lady work on larger items too. Though she did not have the strength…nor the skills of a metal-smith, Mirdanel was far stronger than she looked.
They were sitting outside on one of the balconies that overlooked the central square of Ost- in-Edhil, the capital of Eregion. The beauty of the trees and fountains on the lower levels held much of their attention, and still brought some measure of peace to their minds. The high, strong walls with patrolling guards brought a different measure of peace. As usual the lower levels were bustling with general daytime activities, folk going about their trades and training, markets and philosophical discussions, Soldiers training on the second level, and most of the Guild Meetings and Houses on the third. Behind them, the Houses of Lore guarded the accumulated knowledge and history of their people, while a level above the Guild House of the Mirdan rose like a silent sentinel, watching all. It was safe. It was secure. Or so it felt to Istuil. Yet the thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind would not depart.
“I fear dark days approach, dear student," Mirdanel confirmed. "I would have you know what I do, though I am aware I know not all of the matter. And I would advise you to hold your own classes nigh the hidden tunnels to the Glanduin.”
Istuil looked confused. “To escape the city, Lady? Are we to be attacked?”
Mirdanel held her silence for a few minutes, the warm afternoon sun burnishing her hair to a copper sheen. Then she took up her glass of wine from the glass table top.
“Some believe so. I have ‘friends’ who tell me so and bid me depart the city for Pembar “
She drank the remaining wine in one, and put down her glass.
“Forgive me for alarming you. But to be forewarned is to be forearmed. Some do say Annatar is returning, and with an army. Long range scouts have espied a large force on the move.”
Istuil needed no further explanation of that. The people of Eregion knew he wanted the Elven Rings forged by their Lord, and that there was no way Celebrimbor would reveal their locations. That Annatar would seek to take them by force was no surprise.
“We shall be under siege then?” She trembled slightly, for her parents, her brother, her young students. For Eregion. “We are strong. We can defend ourselves.”
Mirdanel nodded, pushing her finely embroidered red and gold cloak back off her bare cream coloured shoulders, to flutter lightly in the warm breeze.
“Thargelion was strong when Morgoth attacked. We were one of the strongest of all Noldor Holds. Never underestimate an enemy.”
Istuil nodded. “But that was Morgoth.”
Blue-grey eyes flashed keenly, and an ancient fire was alight in them. “Morgoth would have overcome all of Middle Earth, had it not been for the Valar. He robbed the Noldor of many of our bravest and most noble. This ‘student’ of his will be no different. Lie upon lie, cunning, twisting deceit is all he will offer. And again the flower of the Noldor will be trampled underfoot.
She understood. Annatar may not be Morgoth, but he was still mightier than any other they knew of. He would still slay without any thought save for himself.
“So we flee…back to Lindon, and he will follow?”
Mirdanel shook her head. “We are Noldor. We will fight.”
“Lady?”
“I and others would that the children escape, if it be possible. So do I ask you to see your charges have every chance so to do. All our teachers of the young need look to their student’s safety.”
“You think we cannot win?” Istuil gasped.
“Not unless the High King sent out aid some week or two ago. There will be help. He will not desert us. But speed is of the essence and any army from Lindon will likely not reach us in time.”
She knew the Lady had no deep-rooted will to hold to life. She had spoken with her about it a few times in the past, and got nowhere. It was Istuil’s thought that Mirdanel had some great sorrow from the First Age, and continued because of her crafting and love for the people. Yet in some ways she was always ready to depart her body that her spirit may flee to the care of Lord Namo.
“And if you will fight, why should I and others not have that choice. This is home and people to us both.”
Mirdanel’s eyes flared a second time. “Indeed it is. But even more the Noldor must continue. As must our learning, our knowledge, our history. Books cannot be saved if the city is set to the torch. I have taught you much. You and others who know, must continue, and have youth to pass those teachings on to. There will be safety in Lindon, at least for the foreseeable future. If I live, I too will flee to Lindon. But I will not leave a Noldor stronghold to fall again.”
Eregion was not just a Noldor stronghold, Istuil had thought, though she spoke not of it. Mirdanel knew that well enough. Yet something from her past was calling to her. She would not stand by a second time?
And that was the last time Istuil saw her teacher in the City. Mirdanel disappeared. Istuil could never believe she had fled. That was not in her nature. She wondered if she had set off on some scouting mission, but then she was not a scout or hunter, but a swordmistress.
Sometimes over the following days, as the news of what lay ahead became clearer, Istuil even wondered if Mirdanel, daughter of Thargelion, had been kidnapped?
One thing she did know was that part of her teacher’s great sorrow concerned an ellon, likely slain in the First Age. She had never truly shown interest in any of those in Ost-in- Edhil, sitting out dances that required couples, and dancing alone if they did not. She had male friends, but never anything more.
Istuil had wondered at what he must have been like to hold Mirdanel’s heart so?
And now she knew…
~ ~ ~
Estarfin waved up at her from the front of Danel’s ruined house. It was time for a change of guard. Filignil was already walking down the path to where she could ascend the ridge, and take over the duty from Yrill. (Named so since the slaughter of her people) Then she saw Ceuro the Smith leave the Hall too, and move to speak with the stern older Noldo.
“Any trouble, Yrill. Any sight of Danel or Parnard?”
She shook her head to their housekeeper / scout of the folk of Prince Celegorm with respect. She also now knew who had kidnapped Danel in those days long past.
“The Patrol went east last night, and returned after two hours. A group of six riders passed at first light, heading to Mithlond. The patrol should be out again within the hour.” Yrill ran a hand over her face. She was tired, yes, but not overly so. She still had a few days strength in her at need.
“There is food and drink set out in the kitchen. Go, enjoy and rest.”
“I will rest when the Lady and Lord Parnard are back,” she said. “I hope he made his case for the guard tower. I already know Parnard can be very clever with words.”
Filignil chuckled. “He can indeed. Go report to Estarfin, Yrill. Then breakfast and rest. And perhaps accompany Barahirn on a ride later? He needs to get back on a horse.”
With a wave and a small smile, Yrill descended the slope and headed for the bridge and ditch, noting the Dwarven stone masons were heading to their work on the wall. They were engrossed in their craft but nodded briefly at her passing. As with Danel, Yrill was rather fond of the Khazad. She had known of them from their interactions with her people, and although she was never on close terms with any, she admired them, particularly their artistic and weaponry skills. She happened to know that Lord Estarfin loved them not at all. But he knew skill when he saw it. Danel had not said much to her about the Khazad, but she knew for certain she did not share her betrothed’s attitude.
And she hailed Estarfin and Ceuro, both who stood at ease, yet the latter had a touch of tension about him, that he hesitated to speak his mind.
“I understand Estarfin, but I would rest better if I rode the path to Mithlond, just in case. I know it most likely they missed the evening patrol and took a room, or stayed with Curumaito in Celondim. But, if you would indulge me, I was not there for Aearlinn and Barahirn. I cannot bear to think the Lady and Parnard may be in some trouble and I, we are not there.”
Estarfin looked unperturbed. “There is no need, I tell you. They will be back soon.” He turned to face the new arrival. “Anything untoward, Yrill?”
“Nay Lord. Nothing unusual. The patrol passed by back to Mithlond over an hour past. Another should be going out soon. I cannot see a bunch of men interrupting them."
He nodded. He heard her. “Then I shall break my fast for now. I shall relieve Filignil at midday.” And off he strode towards the Hall kitchen.
“Ceuro?” She faced her new friend, for they were becoming friends, with an open expression. “You are not content?”
He sighed. “Lord Estarfin is correct. I am…oversensitive I suppose. It is just that what happened is ever in my mind, and the thought that I could have made a difference.”
“It is on my mind as well, though I know not with the same hurt that visits you. They are possibly still out there, the filth that did it. But Estarfin seems not concerned, and I trust that he would act if he thought there was any danger to his Lady or his dear friend.” Yrill nodded, then patted Ceuro encouragingly on the shoulder. “Shall we see if Marawendi would care to join us for breakfast this fine morn?”
At that moment there was the clatter of a solitary horse's hooves across the narrowed bridge, past the Khazad, and up towards them. A tall, golden-red haired elf of officious manner looked down upon them.
“Yrill of Eregion. Can I be of aid?” she offered, stepping forward.
“Dwarves?” he said, narrowing his deep green eyes and shaking his head.
“They are builders, employed by our Lord, Estarfin.” Ceuro replied with a bow of his head. “Ceuro of Forlond, sir.”
“Captain Culufinnel of Celondim. Have you heard anything about the trouble near Duillond?”
Ceuro and Yrill looked to each other for a moment. Doubtlessly they were both thinking the same thing. Had Danel and Parnard been involved? Yrill also recalled the ellon’s name from something Parnard had said. It was not flattering to Culufinnel.
“Nay Captain. I kept guard through the night on the nearby ridge. I neither saw nor heard anything untoward. But pray…what happened?” she asked with an expression of concern.
“Much as I would like to discuss matters with you, I cannot tarry. All is in order here, and you have seen naught. I must continue my investigations.” The Captain turned his horse and seemed about to ride away.
Yrill whispered to Ceuro ‘That does it. I shall ride the path past Duillond and see for myself. Perhaps you would tell Lord Estarfin - ”
There was another clatter of horses hooves on the road, as a bloodied and limping Pelorian and a wild-eyed Swan-Hoof arrived.
Pelorian looked exhausted and weak. An arrow protruded from her shoulder. Her chest and forelegs were covered with blood. Swan Hoof, seeing them, began to neigh loudly and shake her head in distress.
“Ai!” Ceuro raced forward to attend her. Yrill walked more steadily to take Swan Hoof’s head and check her for injuries, all the time wishing Barahirn was fully recovered. He had such a way with horses. But the state of the two mares, and their lack of riders did not bode well.
- Mirdanel - Danel’s epesse given her by Celebrimbor, and shortened to ‘Danel’ in later years. Her father name being Carnifinde, and mother name Istarnis.
- Elleth- Sindarin for she-Elf. In Eregion Sindarin is spoken. Talk at that time and in that place is in Sindarin.
- Istuil- Yrill’s mother name which she used until after the sack of Eregion. ‘Yrill’ is self-chosen.
- Ost-in-Edhil. The capital city of Eregion in Tolkien’s writing.
