Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: The Harbinger (#3488)
Author: Caerali
Chapters: 3

Warning: Undefined variable $retval in /home/httpd/vhosts/openscrolls.net/httpdocs/fanfic/download.php on line 105

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: A daughter of an elvish farmer reflects on her early years serving as a herald to the High Kings of Noldor.
Published: 16 Jun 2007
Updated: 17 Jul 2007
Warnings: A/U, Mild Violence
Type: Drama
Characters: Fingon; Turgon; Gil-Galad; Glorfindel; OFC


Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

Title: The Harbinger (1/?)
Author: Caerali (laenemackintosh@yahoo.com)
Cast: Fingon, Turgon, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel, OFC/?, several Tolken elves spanning several ages
Rating: PG-13
Archived: Open Scrolls Archive
Warnings: Canon timeline-friendly, A/U other than that.
Beta: dragonfly
Disclaimer: Any non-Tolken elves are characters of my creation. Other then that, I own nothing, nada, zilch. Please don’t sue me, I still have 54 payments on my car.


~~~~~~~~~~

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 21

Dear Journal,

Adar and I picked though the remains of our cottage today. I couldn’t help the tears that fell when I finally found the things nana had left me. A dress she made me before my begetting day two years ago was burned to ash, only the small metal clasps remained in a perfect pile of smooth silver at the bottom of where my armoire used to be. My shell necklace she had made from visiting my sister near the ocean was gone as well. Even the little carved animals I had painted and placed on the shelf by my window were gone. The storm had been horrible. Lightning had struck our home and caught nearly every orchard ablaze. The stable alone stood firm, its cobbled base slightly uphill and out of reach of the mudslides that wiped out the bridge to the beech trees in the south. I did find you, my faithful journal, where I had forgotten you in the hay loft. Lucky for me.
All of our animals perished, save my white pony who was too frightened to leave the barn. Adar managed to find some of his weapons he had stored under the floorboards of the kitchen and a few trinkets left from our ancestors. He hugged me fiercely and told me it would be all right. I have my doubts, but I won’t let him know. He tells me nothing much is left for us to stay for and we need to move on.

What I didn't realize is what he meant by ‘move on’. I thought we would stay with the land commissioner who lets us live on our orchard. He keeps a portion of our crop and we get to live here and harvest.

Mialia, the land commissioner’s wife, was first to arrive yesterday morning. She states that we are expected to replace everything that was lost in our fire. Adar is not pleased, he explained it was a act of nature and there was little we could have done. The upper pasture with the apples is still suitable, though the rest of the crops are beyond saving. Adar told me I should not pester her with questions, she’s busy flapping her gums. I’m not sure what nana’s gum trees have to do with Mialia wanting us to grow trees from burned soil. I wish nana was here, she always knew what to do.

The commissioner arrived not long after at the door of the barn where father was waiting. Mailia wrinkled her small nose at the thought of living with barn animals and I felt her eyes pass over my dirty clothes. Adar opened it slowly and greeted them formally, as if it was a real house and not a feed barn. I can’t help my embarrassment.

Once they left, adar told me to pack up what little I wish to bring with me. We leave tonight after darkness. So I did not sleep well at all. Adar made a small amount of tea and gave me part of a stale loaf of bread. Nothing much was said and I fell asleep on a broken bale of hay.

In the darkness I can hear him talk to me. I ignore him, because I’m still upset at the loss of the dress that nana had made. He continues even when I don’t respond, promising me I shall see something beyond the little creek south of the village and this orchard. I reach my majority in ten days, he reminds me. Adar tells me it was just in time for summer recruitment. High King Fingolfin will gladly take him back. Before he had met nana he was a scout. A grand scout, he adds.

‘Am I to be a scout too?’ I ask him, ‘I don’t know if I want to be a soldier. Girls aren’t soldiers.' I add quickly.
He says, ‘There are girls in his army, just as there are girls who work farms. Do I wish to live in the barn for the rest of my life?’

‘No, I do not.’

‘You will see,’ he says. Adar is wise, I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.

Yours truly,
Isilhith

==

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 22

Dear journal,

We’re halfway to the recruitment camp adar tells me. I want to go back, but he insists we move on. ‘My pony Mithren is homesick,’ I explain. Adar sits down and explains me that right now our farm isn’t really ours. Nor are the animals for that matter. When I demand that Mithren is mine, he says nothing. He changes the subject and tells me that harvesting on this land is the closest thing to servitude an elf will come to know. There is no future in farming land that is not ours, he tells me. In the army, one can be rewarded with land. We can get our own farm. Then we can grow lots of apples and every one of them would be ours. Truly? Our own farm? I ask if I can grow pecans, nana always liked pies. He promises we can grow all of our favorite trees and have plenty of room to grow what nana liked as well. I changed my mind, I tell him, I think I do want to be a soldier.
He tells me to mount up, because we have a ways to go and Mithren is already growing weary. Adar smiles and tells me I’ll be the greatest stable master in the High King’s army. Mithren even agrees with me, she is ready for the adventure!

Yours truly,
Isilhith

==

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 23

Dear Journal,

Adar tells me we will arrive at Fingolfin’s base camp before dawn. My pony came up lame this morning and father wanted to send him back on his own. I begged adar and he let her stay as long as I was willing to carry all of my own things. I think Mithren is happier now that I don’t make her carry me. Adar is worried, for her limp has not improved. He says her old age was probably not suitable for such a difficult journey. I did not realize just how many things I had brought, until I had to carry them myself. A bed roll hangs from a small pack and inside is my change of clothes, my new fletching tools, half a bar of lye soap, and two pieces of flint to start a fire.

I changed my clothes before we arrived and washed them in the creek. I spread them across Mithren’s hindquarters to dry in Anor’s rays. My pony thinks I am silly and adar just laughed at the sight. They are not too heavy I think and my pony likes to help me.

Yours truly,

Isilhith

==

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 25

Dear Journal,

It took us longer then expected because of Mithren’s weakness. I was astonished by the enormity of it all. I have never seen so many tents in all my days! Adar reminds me of the time when the King’s cavalry stayed in our south orchard for a quarter moon. I was much smaller than I am now, but I remember nana was very cross that the solders took so many of our apples. They set up in the orchard, using the trees to secure their tents. I remember when it looked like trees had grown up and burst through the roof of each section of canvas.

He has been telling me many stories on our trek here about when he was a solder many years ago for the first king, Finwë. He tells me he served as a scout and had a white horse named Isil. That’s why I am named Isil. Isilhith means ‘misty moon’ in elvish. Isil was his favorite companion when he was in the army then and now I am his favorite companion. So I am named after a horse. It’s not that odd. Adar says it was a fine name, suitable for anything he loves. I love adar. He says I will be a fine soldier and he will speak to the seneschal about being a stable master since it is what I wish.

He did not tell me until just now that there are not many elleth in the armies and even fewer who are my age. Adar says not to worry though, my duties will keep me plenty busy and my comrades will be the brothers he was never able to provide for me.

Our first stop was to check in with the seneschal and receive our tent assignment. He glanced at me for a long while and I fidgeted with my long braid. He made a comment about my age and small size. I didn’t like the way he frowned the whole time he spoke to ada. Not far from me, a hunting dog and her new litter of puppies threaded their way though the lightly treaded path between some tents. I went to follow, but father held me back by snatching the back of my cloak. Adar reminded me to stay close, because I would easily get lost in a sea of elves.

The stable master’s tent was our next stop, to check on my pony’s treatment. A huge elf eyed Mithren and shook his head, making a ‘tsk’ sound. Adar sent me to sit under this tree while they talk. I don’t like the look on adar’s face when he speaks to this stable elf. When he’s worried or angry he talks with his hands like he is now and he keeps motioning in my direction. I called out to my pony, but Mithren won’t listen to me. She now refuses to put her back hoof on the ground anymore. Adar scooped my clothes off her back and is bringing them to me now to place in my carry bag. I have to go.

Good-bye,

Isilhith

==

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 25 aduial

Dear Journal,

Adar has found an old comrade from his days in service for the first king. It seems he is one of the field commanders of Prince Fingon’s army. Prince Fingon is the eldest son of the High King. The High King divides the entire army between his three sons. This region falls to Prince Fingon. I should like to meet him some day, along with the High King. I practiced my curtsey just like nana taught me. Mialia liked when I used to curtsy to her on the street as I balanced my bushel of apples for the market stand.
The shepherd and his two sons who lived several leagues down the river from our apple orchards arrived in camp yesterday and have joined us at the fire. I suppose there are many others, but I don’t know if they are here yet or have gone already. Adar will not let me out of his sight now that the sun has set. It’s hard to write in the near blackness of the tent. He left one of the flaps open for the breeze. He is sitting by the fire with the sheep herders and the other elf with a long sword.

I watched in awe as father carefully pieced together his armor after he took it apart and inspected it. He’s cleaning his sword now and laughing with the others. I asked if I could join them and he told me I should get some rest for it is nearly midnight.

I asked adar if the elf had cured Mithren’s lameness and he’s becoming agitated and told me to go to bed again. It seems it’s much too late for elflings to be awake. The sheep herder’s sons laugh and I stuck my tongue out. Adar threatens to swat my backside with the flat part of his blade and I fled inside. Not that adar has ever laid a harsh hand on me or raised his voice. He’s the greatest adar in all of Arda. I dare not embarrass him in front of his friends though, so I will go and lay down now, even if I cannot sleep.

Sweet dreams,

Isilhith

==

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 26 tindómë

Dear Journal,

I was much too excited to sleep last night and now I am truly tired. I dressed quickly as I was able and followed adar to the banner in the center of the encampment. Adar unrolled his scroll and handed me mine, which was curled tightly within his. I was to give this to the elf lords when one of them called forth our house. From a wooden platform, there were two elves calling house names. I heard a couple names from our village get called up before us, but I was too tired from not sleeping the night before to pay much attention. I should have done what I was told and went right to sleep. Adar steadied me with his firm hand on my shoulder.
It is much too hot to be in the sun and the elves around me were beginning to suffer. One elfling smaller then I am fainted in the heat. A seneschal took pity on us, and allowed us to move under the canopy of the surrounding trees while a healer scooped him up and took him into a medical tent. I promised adar I would be strong and not faint. He smiled weakly and allowed me to drink when a young elf brought a water bucket to our group and handed us a ladle to drink from. The water was not clean like the water from our creek and I didn’t want to drink at first. Father placed the ladle in my hands and bid me to quench my thirst, for it could be some time before the ellon returned. It had a nasty metallic taste and was hot.

When our name was called, I followed behind adar and we turned in our conscription letters. The elf was unlike any I had ever seen, his hair shown silver like the elves armor from that day in the village. His colorless eyes flicked over me as we approached, in a cold manner that made me shiver in the heat of the summer.

‘Female,’ he finally stated flatly, ‘and young. Too young, honestly.’

‘I’ll reach my majority on the first day of Náríë,’ I blurted out. The dark haired elf who had been reading names off next to him fell quiet and I realized everyone was staring at me, even my adar. Oh, Valar, I spoke out of line. Oopse.

‘Forgive her, my lord,’ adar said nearly silently, ‘she does not know yet what is expected of her.’

‘One would think she would know by now not to speak until spoken to,’ the other finally said with a quirked eyebrow.

Adar said nothing else and his hand fell from my shoulder as he stood absolute. The first elf finally looked away from me when he was satisfied that I wouldn’t say anything else. He glanced again at the name and admitted he recalled my father from his prior service.

‘Scout, second infantry of Turgon.’ Adar didn’t hide his smile, it was obvious to all in hearing range he was assigned to an important rank commanded by a son of the King. I was as proud as he was happy. He began to lead me away when the silver haired elf caught him by the shoulder.

‘I’m not finished,’ the tall ellon demanded. His pale silver gaze came to rest on me, though still speaking to my father. ‘We have use for your daughter with one of our stable masters,’ turning back to me, ‘you will be counted among the harbingers, fifth cavalry under the command of Fingon.’

Father’s smile immediately fell. We were assigned to different companies. Not just different companies, but different commanders entirely.

‘Adar?’

‘Not now, child. Remember that I love you and you make me proud.’

‘Adar?!” I couldn’t breathe, I had to be with my father, I just had to be! This was unfair. Oh, so wrong! He’s made some sort of mistake! The silver haired elf called the next name. ‘No!’ I screamed, clinging to my adar.

The dark haired elf handed his paperwork to an elf to his side, and reached to pull me away. I scrambled away, clawing my way back to my father’s safe embrace. The elf lord’s firm grasp pulled at my elbow and when I pushed back again my fingers got caught in the Elf Lord’s unbraided locks. The dark haired elf snarled in pain and he grabbed me by the back of my hair and dragged me away from my adar. The mean, silver haired elf pushed adar away from me and I began to scream. A sizable chunk of dark hair was left between my fingers as the elf pulled me away from the crowd.

He ducked under several tent ropes and dragged me up the embankments to a different row of tents. The whole while, he clamped an iron hand over my mouth. I screamed to no avail and clawed at him for all the hate I could summon. He clamped his heavy arm around my midsection and was forced to carry me when I refused to walk. He spun me wildly around when he plowed though the entrance flap of a tent. He still had a firm grip on my braid when I kicked at him. Either he was too quick or I was inaccurate, because not one of my hits or kicks landed the entire time. I cried in frustration and for the loss of my father.

‘You will know your place, young one. . . and here is your first lesson. You will never make such a scene at my expense again,’ he warned in a low dangerous tone.

I thrashed violently when I heard the sing of metal as he drew his sword. I screamed when the sword swung outward towards me. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the pain never came. He must have released me because I fell to the floor like a cloth doll. I curled up into a ball where I landed on a woven rug and began to sob. I kicked and screamed until my voice was gone and every muscle protested from strain. Voiceless, all I could do was hiccup and wearily rub my red face with the back of my hand. My eyes refused to open and I refused to move. I was tired from lack of sleep, heartbroken without my father, and lost in a sea of elves I did not know. I wanted Nana. I sobbed the words out, but could not hear my voice.

I waited for him to hit me, or scream, or anything but punishment never came. Adar would be so very upset if he had heard me cry like a baby. I cared not. Not far from me I heard the wooden scrape of a chair being dragged across a carpet, but nothing more.

Isilhith

==

I Age, Year 74, Lótessë, day 28

Dear Journal,

The army my adar was assigned to left yesterday morning. I was not able not see him again after my outburst in the square when I pulled Prince Fingon’s hair out by the roots . When I finally awoke, I was still lying on my side on the hard ground. Someone had placed a pillow under my head and my thin cloak over my shoulders. I was exhausted, and only had the strength to listen to the distant voices outside the tent. I could hear the snap of the kindling in the fire and I concluded that night had fallen. I found I was entangled in my cloak and I strained to free myself from it. My skull pounded from crying earlier, and I rubbed my head with no measure of relief. My fingers froze as I ran them over my head. My hair was gone. Oh, dear Valar, my hair was gone. Prince Fingon had cut my hair shorter then the length of my fingers. The voices fell silent went I sat up suddenly, violently rubbing my head. I had no tears left to cry as I was doubly hurt. A shadow fell over me and I looked upward. Prince Fingon sank to one knee and grasped me by my shoulders. I could not help the scowl on my face.

‘Calm yourself,’ he demanded quietly.

‘My hair. . .’ I wheezed out.

‘It will grow back in time, and then, only when I wish it to.’

‘My Prince! My nana has never cut my hair. I will look ugly!’

‘I believe you will think twice before pulling my hair again. Besides, you will not need it.’

‘It was an accident. I did not mean to --'

‘Temper tantrums are not accidents. I cannot have my soldiers crying over cut hair. Hair grows. You come to my army and now you want to go home because of a scrape?’ He lifted his chin and took a deep breath. ‘Come sit and eat.’

‘I am not able. I will fade of despair.'

‘I think not, for I am not finished with you yet, elfling. Get up now, and sit on this pillow and a servant will bring you something to eat.’

‘No,’ I knew I was being deliberately disobedient, but I could not help myself.

‘You will eat or I will make you eat. Sit up now.’

I tried to tell myself I was not hungry, but no, my stomach protested. I sat on the pillow as I was told, but folded my arms in defiance. His eyes stayed on me while he walked back to his awaiting dinner at the long table.

Once served, I forgot that I had refused to eat and stuffed myself as if I had never eaten before. Once satisfied he had gotten his way, that mean, old prince sat back down at his table and watched me in silence. I sat on a lumpy oversized threadbare pillow and stuffed my mouth with buttered rolls and roasted potatoes. I even ate the green vegetable that was in a small handled bowl, not caring what it was. When the white gravy dripped from my chin I used another pillow to wipe my face.

The hunting dogs that had been under Fingon’s desk quickly took notice of me and crept out of the shadows from near feet. One sat patiently by but the other slunk along the carpet and stole discarded pork ribs from beside me. Another dog nipped at the edge of the empty bowl and dragged it away from my feet to a fair distance away. I licked the pork honey glaze from each of my fingers before putting the plate on the floor. The dogs seized the opportunity and feverishly licked the plate clean in seconds. Prince Fingon looked slightly amused, to have me eating on the floor with the dogs. When I scowled, he frowned immediately and his silent leveling glare make me look away.

‘You’re learning already,’ he declared. He touched his linen napkin to his mouth and rose swiftly. I rose on wobbly legs when Fingon beckoned me forward with a simple summons of his fingers and I stood before the great long table. ‘From this day forward, you do as I say, when I say. I care not what your wishes are. You eat when I tell you, you sleep when I tell you. You don’t even make water until I tell you. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ I said weakly, wondering if he would give me permission soon.

‘Now that you have eaten, you will rest and bathe, for we will travel soon. You will need your strength if you are to carry our King’s banner into battle.’

‘She looks naught strong enough to bear a feather, let alone your house banner,’ chuckled one of the Lords from his long dining table. I had not noticed he had company until that moment.

‘Feather-bearer, how amusing,’ Fingon’s voice sounded distant when he finally turned to smile at me, ‘Maybe just feather then, eh Quesse?’ Fingon rested his hand on my sleeve, turning to the Lord of the Golden Flower. He nudged me in the direction of the other elf, who was unwilling to touch me in fear of becoming soiled by pork grease and creamed gravy. ‘Glorfindel, I leave her in your capable hands. I suggest dunking her in a water trough first though, to get through the layers of dirt and food stuffs.’

‘Quesse,’ he said to me, ‘Glorfindel will see to your training. You will follow his orders as if they were my own. Without question or hesitation, or once again face the consequences of your actions. I trust I will not have to say this again.’

I immediately grasped the lack of hair on the top of my head and nodded mutely. From that moment on, I was known only as ‘Quesse’ for many ages.

With love for nana and adar,

Quesse



____________________________________________________________________________
References:
Elvish calendar: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle-earth_calendar
Quenya definitions: http://www.rialian.com/quenya-english.htm
High Kings of Noldor: http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/default.asp?


Chapter 2 - Chapter 2

Title: The Harbinger: Finding Beauty (2/?)
Author: Caerali (laenemackintosh@yahoo.com)
Cast: Fingon, Turgon, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel, OFC/?, several Tolken elves spanning several ages
Rating: PG-13
Archived: Open Scrolls Archive
Warnings: Canon timeline-friendly, A/U other than that.
Beta: dragonfly
Disclaimer: Any non-Tolken elves are characters of my creation. Other then that, I own nothing, nada, zilch. Please don't sue me, I still have 54 payments on my car.


~~~~~~~~~~

I Age, Year 74, Náríë , day 1

Dear Journal,

It's my begetting day. Adar has been gone for four days. I cannot even recall nana's face if I think really hard. Mithren was so lame yesterday she would not stand even when I begged her to. Eventually, Alcarin was able to coax her to stand with a carrot in hand. Alcarin is Prince Fingon's head stable master.
It seems she hurt something in her hip on our way here and now her other foot that had been holding all her weight under her rear is infected. He carved away part of her hoof and applied a poultice to the base of it. Mithren refused to eat and it makes me sad.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Náríë , day 4

Dear Journal,

It took me a long while to wake this morning, I am cold and I hurt everywhere. So I lay here on my bed roll in the corner of Prince Fingon's main tent. I do not feel up to eating and I have not done so in several days. He thinks I eat, but when I roll over to sleep his dogs devour my meal. I care not. It hurts to care. My hands shake when I write and I just knocked half of my bottle of ink onto his carpet here in the corner. I worry for adar and Mithren. I can think of nothing else.

Quesse

==

(undated)

I realized that Prince Fingon himself was shaking me awake this morning. I know not how long he had called my name, but his voice was nearly a fevered pitch when I finally asked, 'what?' I grimaced immediately, for I could taste the metallic tang of blood when my lower lip cracked as I spoke. Until now, I thought he had just ignored me and left me lay in my corner. I thought he would just do the same as he always did, but this time he was immediately worried and called for a healer. He spoke at length to the healer who scooped me up at once in a hug and sang to me. She's the first elleth I've seen so far in the camp. She smelled nice, like the apple blossoms from back home. She reminded me of my nana and it made me cry. Prince Fingon immediately dismissed the healer's concerns with a stiff hand when she mentioned the word 'fading'.

That would teach him, if I was to fade it would be entirely his fault. Well, his fault, and the fault of that other mean elf who assigned me away from my adar. Prince Fingon should send me to be with him. I dislike Prince Fingon a lot.

Quesse

==

(undated)

Prince Fingon shook me awake gently and wants me to go with him to the stable and visit my pony, for I had not done so in several days. He sounds worried and his voice is thick with emotion. He is kneeling before me, sitting back on his heels in his good clothing. I roll over and don't want to be bothered. He feels badly and wants to make it up to me, so he says. The exact words he used to convince me to stand I do not recall. But here I am, allowing him to guide me to where my pony is. He smells like a horse butt and I wish he would slip on dung when we get there, but he probably will not. If he does, I will make myself laugh, even if my lips split and bleed again.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Náríë day 6

Lord Fingon took me to see my pony, but she was gone. Alcarin cried real tears when he told me she had to be put down. It seemed his greatest fear had been true, she had fractured something in her hip and was in too much pain to carry on. My best friend is gone and all I could do was cry. My legs felt distant to me, but as I fell Prince Fingon lunged forward. He caught me before I hit the ground and quickly carried me away from Alcarin. I cried the whole way, waving my hands behind him and sobbing for him to take me back. I hate it here. I hate the Prince. I wished out loud that Alcarin would put the prince down the same way he had for my wonderful pony. I cried harder until I all I could do was hold on to the Prince for my life. He held me tightly, giving me a small measure of relief I would not soon admit.

I woke up under a pile of soft black fur in Lord Fingon's bed chamber. He was not there and I was grateful. I sat up slowly and tested my feet on the floor but it was much too cold. How is the floor so cold in the middle of summer? I spied a pair of worn leather boots to one side of the wood slated bed frame and slipped my feet into them. My feet were far too unsteady, so I took small steps across the room with a rough 'clomp' sounds. I wrapped my oversized shirt close to my body. It wasn't my shirt. It was enormous and I had to stop for a moment to roll the sleeves up so I could see my hands. This separate tent for his sleeping quarters was sectioned off with another rolled up canvas flap that lead to his main room. The main room is where I had been sleeping the last few days since separated from my father. I glanced out, but I found that I was alone. I turned around and looked about to find all his personal effects strung about. His two massive desks are covered to the point of confusion with scrolls, books, and miscellaneous items.

I lifted each item gingerly with the tips of my fingers: a looking glass with a bent handle, a 'V'-shaped item with a sharp point spearing a location on a map of a expanse of land. I shuffled though the papers, unable to read all the strange characters inked onto it's surface. I brushed my finger over the leading edge of the quill, which was brown with tan stripes from the stem to the edge. It's from sort of owl, I think. I picked up a heavy gold cylinder with colored glass on one end. The other end had a clear glass and when I looked though a blast of light came though the colored side. I gazed in amazement the brilliant flowering color that changed as I twisted the end shifting, the glass about.

A deep voice cleared it's throat and I nearly dropped the golden tube of color. I quickly put it down, upsetting the parchment and causing much of one side to slide to the floor and the seat of the campaign chair. I apologized and waited for Prince Fingon to get angry, but he did not.

'It is called a kaleidoscope. A wondrous creation from Men. It was a gift from one of their kings to my father along with several other things in a border dispute many years back. It was gifted to me when I was not much older than you.'

'A child's toy? Why keep such a pretty thing in a battlefield?'

'To remind me that beauty can be found in the most obscure of places. One has only to look.'

He sighed and turned up my chin, looking deeply into my eyes. He seemed troubled as he searched for something unspoken. 'How do you feel?' He continued as he rested his hands on each of my shoulders.

'Cold.'

'Lonely times can lead us into the darkness. It takes equal parts of strength and love to see us through to the light. Do you still wish to have me put down like your horse?'

'Oh. . . Did I say that aloud?'

'Indeed.'

'I - I'm sorry my Prince, for being cruel. I do not mean what I said. I do not wish for you, or anyone for that matter, to be put down like my pony,' I was on the verge of crying again.

'It is your begetting day soon, is it not?' He suddenly asked.

'Nearly a week ago. I think. Though I wish it had not been, I wish to never remember that day,' I admitted.

'I have a gift for you, if you will accept. Though it is late.'

I glanced at the kaleidoscope and Prince Fingon chuckled.

'I am not ready to be parted from that. I'm rather fond of my pretty things and don't like to share. This way, young elleth.'
I followed him with growing strength as he swept through the curtain to the gold trimmed carpeting outside the tent. Outside, Alcarin stood with a massive black stallion restrained by nothing more then a thin braided leather head stall.

'This is Sidh. He was greatly distressed at your loss and will not allow me to ride him anymore. He wishes to serve with you.'
I was in a state of shock. I had never seen a horse as beautiful as this.

'This is your horse?'

'Was. He is yours now.'

'He cannot replace my pony, Mithren,' I heard myself say.

'I doubt any horse can replace an elfling's first pony, but he worries about you. . . as do we all.'

I said nothing, but I shuffled a couple steps forward. Sidh's stretched his massive head out and searched me for treats. How funny it must have looked to have this giant horse nibbling on my shirt. As I moved, Fingon's huge boots flopped about on my feet and I had to be careful not to trip over the loose laces and tongue.

'One cannot bear a banner without a horse,' Fingon coaxed, nudging me forward to introduce me to the stallion. Sidh nickered and plucked at my short scruffy hair, making it stand up on end with his saliva.

'He likes you,' Alcarin said with relief. Fingon lifted me suddenly from behind and my feet slipped out of my borrowed boots. He then placed me astride the animal's huge back. My legs barely reached halfway around his barrel and he turned his head to get a better look at me. Sidh seemed quite satisfied and pawed at the ground, awaiting orders.

I glanced at the Prince and his stable master. Fingon pushed the horse's shoulder away from where they stood, and Sidh circled around the open area in front of the royal tents. I could feel every muscle in his back and shoulders as they stretched into each deliberate powerful step. He's not Mithren, but I think Mithren would have liked him. I guess Prince Fingon isn't half as horrible as I first thought. He promises to have me trained with the finest riders in the High King's army and somehow I believe he will keep his word.

Sincerely,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Náríë day 10

Dear Journal,

Glorfindel makes me practice nearly night and day. It's a good thing that Sidh does not mind. Half the day is riding lessons, the other half of the day I'm required to carry a small banner on a pole everywhere I go. I carry it as I ride, as I walk, when I go to eat, or go make water behind a bush. The squires giggle when I pass by and I curse at them and charge at them head first with my banner. They run away screaming and it makes me smile when they flee. I call them 'Orcs'.

I spend much of my time with Prince Fingon, when I am not with Lord Glorfindel. Between the two ellyn, I have no time to do anything but eat, sleep, and train. I have to ask permission to do anything else. At first, I was a bit upset about it. He tells me we must all answer to someone, great and small. Such is the way of way of things. I ask who he answers to, and he smiles and tells me our King. Our king is, of course, his father and I nod to agree. I would do the same for my father and our King.

A standard banner is heavy for someone training like me, so Glorfindel started me on one that is only half the size of a standard banner. How does one carry these all day? I think it impossible, but every time I put it down Glorfindel will suddenly appear and scold me. The king's banner shall never touch the ground. I remind him it is not a real banner, just a worn tunic on the end of a stick and he gets grumpy at me.

The Prince is content that I am doing better, so he had my things moved into the tent with the elleth healer. She's very nice to me. At first I was hurt he dismissed me so quickly, but the healer explained it wasn't appropriate for me to stay with the Prince for an extended amount of time.

Linaewen tells me she takes in many of the elleth. She says it's because she's lonely, and needs the companionship. I remember her now, she was the elleth Prince Fingon called into his tent when I wouldn't awake when he called me. I even let her convince me to allow her cut my hair even shorter than it was. It's maybe a half hand long all the way around now. I've grown accustomed to it being short.
She winks at me and I realize she just wants me to feel at home. She found some unused cloth and made me several shirts and repaired a few leggings to fit me. I believe she returned Prince Fingon's tunic to him while I was asleep and I was disappointed. The material was so light I could hardly feel it on my skin.

The month of Náríë is so incredibly hot. Even the newly arrived Lord Ecthelion is complaining about the summer heat. As I sit here and write, I can hear the stupid archer squires making up songs about me again. I'll just get my banner and

==

I Age, Year 74, Náríë day 11

Dear Journal,

So sorry about the unfinished entry, those dumb squires stole my banner yesterday while I was writing in my journal. I had to tell Lord Glorfindel and he was angry. I was upset when he was more angry at me then the squires. My company's lifeline is the banner. I cannot lose it for any reason. Especially if 'dumb squires' take it from me. I'm only writing in my journal now after several hours of picking up horse droppings in the main square. I know which of the squires it was, I just want to know how he managed to get my banner in Glorfindel's tent without anyone noticing. Glorfindel was not amused. He was about to dole out my second punishment for being 'mouthy' when a Sindarian herald arrived.

I followed Glorfindel to Prince Fingon's tent where he met with Lord Ecthelion. I brought the banner with me, though I had to drag the staff portion on the ground to get it in the opening of the tent. They poured over a hand drawn map provided by the herald and they were debating in a gibberish language I had not heard of before.

'Fine, we leave immediately then. Rest here as my guest.' turning to Glorfindel, 'see to breaking down the camp and follow us immediately.'

'Yes, my Prince.'

He gathered up his weapons. Lord Ecthelion bowed deeply as the prince walked past him and finished doling out orders. I stayed at the edge of the tent, unsure of how I felt of our army being divided. He paused in front of me to ruffle my hair. He allowed me to duck out from under his hand, and chuckled. He left, and Glorfindel sent me back to my tent. Linaewen rushed me about, she wants me to finish packing my things because the ellon will be taking our tent down any moment. For a moment, I thought 'No more tunic on a stick for me!'

Prince Fingon left with three-quarters of the army. One squire fell off his cart pony in a fit of laughter when he saw me mount up on Sidh. I have to go. I wonder if I can crack that ellon's head with my shirt on a stick from here.

Sincerely,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Cermië day 29

Dear Journal,

I thought I had lost you! When we moved camps a lot of things were packed in a hurry and I placed you in the wrong bag. We made camp in the northern part of Beleriand, Glorfindel says as he points on an expansive colored plot on a map.

The Sindar herald is still with us until Prince Fingon decides it's safe for him to leave. Lord Ecthelion fascinates me. He trains early in the morning to remain undisturbed. He seems fond of the roped off arena Glorfindel uses for our riding lessons. He rides so fast he's amazing to watch.

I try to watch in stealth, but he always spots me and he even winks at me. I wish my hair would grow out more. He must have thought I was an ellon at first!

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Urimë day 3

Dearest Journal,

Ecthelion asked to ride Sidh today. He told me I could call him just Ecthelion. It feels odd to be so informal, but he is insistent. My skin prickled when he ran his fingers though my cropped hair and grazed the tip of his finger on the edge of my ear. I gasped and covered my mouth, and he smiled when I blushed.

I immediately demanded Sidh allow the nice elf to ride him. My stallion was extremely unhappy that I was so insistent. Sidh behaved for a few moments, walking around in a tight circle, but the instant the herald urged him forward he turned into a wild bucking mass of muscle and force. If Sidh could have snorted fire like a Balrog he would have. The herald jumped off before Sidh was able to throw him. Sidh returned to where I stood at the edge of the rope and flicked his ears back and forth as if to inquire, 'What did I do?' Ecthelion laughed as he dusted his breeches off and I just shook my head at my stubborn horse. Such a silly thing, my black horse was.

Truly,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Urimë day 18

Journal,

The battlefront inches closer. From the front, Fingon sends us injured and calls in for reinforcements. I now have to spend more time away from my friend Linaewen and far more time with Glorfindel. Under increasing pressure, Glorfindel has pushed me harder and harder to be ready. He admits he's forced to skip several months of training to have me battle ready. Surprisingly, Linaewen was present at today's lesson. Since when was she interested in horseback riding?

Today, under Glorfindel's supervision, I practiced mounting my horse with my full sized banner. It sounded like a simple request, until he said, 'under gallop'.

'How does one do this with a horse at full gallop?'

'Not full gallop, Quesse. Watch me. . . Sidh knows what to do.'

'Without the banner first. But by the end of the day, you will do both.'

Not far from me, he clucked to his horse who began to circle the small roped arena at an easy cadence. He sprinted forward suddenly and to my awe he bound up, grasping his horse at the base of his mane, and was astride in one smooth movement.

He dismounted quickly and sent his horse off again.

'You try now.'

I was rooted to the ground where I stood.

'I don't know. He moves so fast.'

'Not as fast as Sidh. Up now.'

I lunged forward and came up with nothing but air and landed flat on my face.

'Hurt? No?' I shook my head and got up slowly, he urged me to stand, 'Good, get up! Again!'

I jumped again, and again, I landed flat every time. Linaewen kept her face covered with both her hands. Every time I would fall I would hear her gasp in fear.

'Again!' He demanded of me, several times in a row. Each time I came up empty, once I managed to grasp at his withers before I fell. When that happened, I fell under the horse's hooves. I felt it graze over my shoulder as the animal tried desperately not to not injure me where I rolled under his feet. I was so embarrassed when the gathering crowd came running to my aid. I had the wind knocked out of me and could not move.

I did not realize that Ecthelion was also standing by and began to argue with Glorfindel as soon as Linaewen declared I was all right. I was too young he ranted, but Glorfindel quickly disagreed. He insisted that he was too protective because I was female and my age was irrelevant. Ecthelion turned red and shouted something in another language. Glorfindel must have understood though, for he stood toe to toe with him and argued right back.

'She's mine to command, Prince Fingon wants her to be ready. Go back to your marble castles and silk laden tablecloths. Let the real soldiers work here. She can do this. I know she can. She needs only to believe in herself.' They both glanced to me then, as if embarrassed about talking about me where I could hear. 'I have little time left to prepare her.'

'I know of your plans. . . and of Fingon's.'

'You keep your mouth shut, Ecthelion,' Glorfindel hissed though clenched teeth.

I know not what Ecthelion meant, but I could only stand there in amazement because Glorfindel had never spoken a positive word about my abilities. Honestly, he never said anything good or bad until that moment. The pair started to draw attention and Glorfindel fell quiet. I think they're really good friends, but they refuse to see each other's opinion clearly. The nerve of him not thinking I could do it? I finally spoke up, siding with Glorfindel. I told Ecthelion on no uncertain terms that I wanted to do it and Fingon knew I could or he would not bother to have me trained. Glorfindel was not pleased that I called him just 'Fingon' and told me so. I should show proper respect to his title. It just slipped out and I fumbled though an apology.

The Sindar herald leaves tomorrow morning for his own city of Doriath. I asked Glorfindel if he would return, because I want him to teach me to ride the way he does. Glorfindel just snorted and walked away.

Truly yours,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Urimë day 23

Dear Journal,

I've decided that Glorfindel is a slave driver. Well, if he had slaves I would be one of them and he drives me all day long like my adar's ox back home. I can now mount my own horse consistently at a gallop without falling. I'm now working on mounting with my banner in hand. For once, I'm glad Glorfindel allows me my broken spear with a shirt tied to one end. It's far shorter and lighter then the fifteen foot pole I would soon carry.

I ride all morning long before I eat my afternoon meal. After assisting in the kitchen tent, I help the smiths the rest of the evening. I shovel coal into barrels from the supply to the forge for the workers. From there I stow weapons and armor into carts for the battlefront. It breeds strength and character, he tells me. I can actually see the muscle on my arms where it didn't used to be. Character be damned, at least I can lift my weight in hay without falling over backwards now.

For what little time is in between, I work with the horse masters on healing horses and seeing to their feed and needs. Flag bearers must know as much as possible about our horses. Adar had taught me all I knew of horses. I thought he knew everything. But now I can cure lameness, colic, and feed foals with handheld milk skins. I work from dawn until dusk, I eat little, and sleep even less.

'Does my work please you? What says Fingon?'

'You will address the prince properly,' he growled, folding his arms across his chest tightly.

'I am sorry. What does he say? Please, Glorfindel, I must know.'

'I tell him the truth. That is all that should concern you.'

'Glorfindel, I don't understand. Have I upset you?' I reach for his arm and he flinches as if I burned him.

'I worry about you,' he finally admitted, 'You think your duties as harbinger are as simple as mounting a horse and waving a flag. I will tell you now that it is not. The ellyn look to the flag-bearer for everything. Guidance, strength, stamina. If you falter -- in any way, it can turn the tide of all those who are behind you. There is no room for fear or error.'

'I did not think of that. Do you not believe I can do it?' I sighed, letting my hand fall from his shoulder.

'If you do exactly as I have instructed, you will not fail.'

'I will not fail my Prince.'

'You look tired,' he said, as I absently rubbed my eye with the back of my hand, ' you are finished for the night. Sleep well.'

With that, he left my tent for the evening. I peeled off my clothes and collapsed heavily into my cot, not caring how soiled my sheets would become. Every last bit of my body ached. If the muscles in my toes could have been pulled or strained, I think I had done so. I rested on my cot unable and sleep out of sheer exhaustion. Linaewen arrived by my cot as soon as I arrived and brought me a soothing tea and something to eat keep up my strength. I admit with exhaustion, that I was weaker then I should be as a flag bearer. She tells me Prince Fingon is proud of me, for most elleth never achieve what I had in such a short amount of time. She had me lay on my stomach and rubbed in a linament to ease my pain in my muscles. I smiled faintly and it warmed me that my Prince is proud of me.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Urimë day 24

Dear journal,

Glorfindel received a message from Fingon that Morgoth had unleashed his hordes of Orcs on the lands here in Beleriand. The rest of our encampment is to join up with Fingon on the front.

Glorfindel said I was lucky to never had been witness to a horde of orc in my stay with the army. The smell was overwhelming, he told me. Drenched by the muddy onslaught of summer rain storms, they bathed in the blood of the fallen and ate the flesh of dead creatures or felled enemies.

In hours, the encampment disappeared and fell into the shadows of the forest. All that was left was the legions of cavalry and archers, led by the infantry. I was well behind the battalions, my full staff banner carrying a true banner of the King. When we set out, Glorfindel had us ride hard all night and the next day. We break now, just long enough to check the horses and equipment while the scouts are sent out to survey the land. Sidh seems upset we had to stop. He can feel the tension in the air and he paws at the ground in increasing agitation. His former master is not far and he knows what is coming. I am anxious as well, but not for the same reason. Glorfindel strides between the lines with purpose, checking every single member of the army as quickly as his horse will carry him. His eye contact with me is brief, but meaningful. His blue eyes shown with resolve. I draw on his strength as best as I am able.
I see one of the scouts now returning from the north. At first glance, I can see the horse looks lame when I squint my eyes. Linaewen is insisting I put my journal away, I'll write more soon.

Sincerely,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Urimë day 24 taranar

Dear journal,

Fingon is sending another scout out to us. The original that had met with his brother, Turgon, did not survive her trip across the field. She died within the last half hour before she reached us. The scout's mount brought her back lifeless.

Alcarin volunteered, the stable master who took care of my pony when I first arrived in the service of the king two moons ago. All our regular scouts are already out and he is rumored to be the swiftest rider left from the cavalry. Glorfindel is calling for me, I must go.

Que

==

I Age, Year 74, Urimë day 25

Glorfindel called me forward to replace Alcarin. Alcarin is the flag bearer for the 3rd cavalry. A low murmur rippled though the cavalry that made me feel immediately uncomfortable. I concentrated on the sounds about me. I had no idea what lay ahead. My heart raced and I set my jaw in determination. I would not fail. I gripped the banner tightly and placed a steadying on Sidh's withers. I watched his ears and I could feel an eerie calm come over him. He knows what's expected of him. I ran my fingers up his mane to his ears and muse the locks that fall between his ears. He snorted in acknowledgment.

I heard our lieutenant call for a smith to bring me chain mail. I glanced down at my leather tunic, noting vaguely I was not geared to be so close to possible battle, so the smithy quickly rounded up what he could to protect me. Everyone was looking at me and I felt self-conscious. I just looked forward and did my best to steady Alcarin's full sized banner in the leather cup on my stirrup irons. The field commander moved us into position. Once set, we did not move for nearly four hours. I wished to stretch my legs before heading to the open field. Many of the others are taking the last few moments to prepare.

The smith finally arrives to bring me what armor could be made on such short notice. He had reworked a chain mail tunic and brought it forward as soon as he was able. I dismounted my stallion and a squire came forward to steady him. In his other hand he holds my banner as I quickly pull the chain mail over my head and adjust my belt to hold it in place. He's openly wearing a jealous scowl on his face and won't look at me directly. He's been in this army for twelve years, I am the same age that he was then. I'm a harbinger in the 3rd cavalry and he holds my horse's reins and holds my banner.

I replaced my own hardened leather bracers over my wrists. I was forced to reuse my old worn high boots that nana had gotten me from the tailor back home. The sole was separating from the top on my right foot and I could feel the weather seep though the stitching. He did manage to find me some well fitting leather gloves. Lastly, was a linked coif over my head to protect my neck as much as possible. No helmet would fit me, because they were custom fitted. He promised to have one made the next time we made a semi permanent camp. I know now why Fingon chopped my hair short. He had reason other than the initial punishment. The links over my head are pulling at my hair, which has grown out some since that first fateful day under Prince Fingon's leadership. I will have Linaewen cut my hair again the next time I am able.

I remounted and the squire handed me back my banner as the enemy crosses the field. The ground trembles about me and Sidh rears in anticipation. A scout is returning from the front, and it's not Alcarin. The horse is blanketed in Fingolfin's colors though. Could it be the King himself? He would not dare travel in the open alone at times like this. Glorfindel mounted his horse and pathed the animal close to the tree line as the King's scout sprinted towards our army with news of the front.

The thick air was split by the roar of Glorfindel's voice, as he ordered the ready charge. His horse reared up under him, and the seneschal reined him hard towards the advancing army. His battalion was on the move.

Quesse


Chapter 3 - Chapter 3

Title: The Harbinger: Simple Exchanges (3/?)
Author: Caerali (laenemackintosh@yahoo.com)
Cast: Fingon, Turgon, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel, OFC/?, several Tolken elves spanning several ages
Rating: PG-13
Archived: Open Scrolls Archive
Warnings: Canon timeline-friendly, A/U other than that.
Beta: dragonfly
Disclaimer: Any non-Tolken elves are characters of my creation. Other then that, I own nothing, nada, zilch. Please don't sue me, I still have 54 payments on my car.


~~~~~~~~~~

(no date)

Dear journal,

I believe I could have gone my entire life content knowing that the most dangerous things in all of Middle-Earth was the Balrog that was under my bed as a child. Whenever I had such a dream, Ada would get the broom where it hung in the hall and attack them under my bed chasing the foul beasts away.

After standing downwind with them charging my King's army, I should have been fearful for my life and my people. . . but all I could think of is how bad the smell was. Lord Glorfindel once told me he could smell an Orc a league away and I thought he was exaggerating. He was not. I could smell their stink when they crested over the horizon, and that was at least twice the distance.

They traveled at first with what I thought were giant balls of mud. When I realized those giant masses where trolls my stomach dropped into my boots. I glanced down at my chainmail and it occurred to me it was not nearly enough protection. I would be surely cleaved in two! The broken tree trunks that hung from their limbs were larger then two of me placed end to end. I could hear the archers' shuddering gasps behind me. I glanced back and saw the fear in their eyes. The elf nearest to me was white as a sheet. I nodded to him, with a tight face. I saw him take a deep breath and I again looked forward. Ahead of us, the banners flickered in the increasing breeze and I glanced to the sky at the moving cloud cover. The ends snapped in the gusting wind and the first drops of rain started to come down.

We finally drove them back, their ranks shattered apart at the seems where our archers downed all their mounted riders. It's nearly daylight now, the Orcish stragglers have dropped back into the shadows. Fingon moved the mass of the troops back into the cover of the rocks and trees, while the first cavalry drove the rest away. I overheard one of the lieutenants say Orcs were unable to travel during daylight hours. I have never been so grateful to see Anor rise in the east. I feel I could write a sonnet in it's honor. Until then, I have only the ray of Isil to light these pages in this journal.

==

(no date)

Dear journal,

We have rotated archers towards the front to protect the infantry. The lines were drawn tightly and we have set up for the second night. We moved into a better position, against a cliff face so they would be unable to attack us from three sides.

I have not seen Fingon yet, but now the whole of his army is one again. He's taken complete command and by some unknown sense he knows exactly where the orcs are and where we should be when they attack. Fingon is wise. I suppose that comes from all those books and papers he kept in his tent.

Glorfindel will be moving about the archers soon. He gets anxious and keeps busy by moving elves around until he's content. Glorfindel's diligence drives Fingon mad, but even he must agree the final placement is always right. Therefore the prince says nothing.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 4

Dear journal,

I assisted Linaewen with the injured today. I shall have nightmares for centuries to come. She is a great healer, but even she is incapable of curing death and dismemberment. The squire who held my banner lost several fingers on one hand. I helped as I was able, mixing poultices and applying bandages. My heart ached for those who had died in our hands well after the battle. Their sticky blood soiled my tunic as I applied pressure to seeping wounds as Linaewen whispered words of healing as best as she was able.

Prince Turgon, Fingon's brother, has also arrived with his army. The combined forces swarmed the deepest parts of the woods and cliff faces to secure the area. With his arrival, yet more dying and maimed soldiers were brought forth. Healers from all the units descended on the encampment, some carrying injured and others carrying bags of healing herbs. We worked well into the night and the next day before we could rest.

I pray to the Valar that adar is well. I was granted permission to leave the tent by lying about where I was headed, in hopes I would be able to find my father. I've ran about the canvas tents looking for him, but I could not find him anywhere. I pray he is out scouting and far from this war. I feel ill when I think he may have fallen in battle. It was not long before Glorfindel found me though. I was forced to lie to him as well, telling him I was looking for a jar of aloe from a friend's tent. He took me at my word, but sent me back to Linaewen and the healing tent with the promise he would have aloe sent to me there.

Linaewen noticed me immediately as I returned and put me to work.

'Check him, Quesse, see to his bandage. It's starting to seep,' Linaewen asked of me.

I nodded, turning back to the scout who lay on a partially unrolled mat. He was partially sitting up, using a overturned barrel as support for his weary back.

'Are you in much pain?' I ask.

'Some, my lady,' he strained. I could not suppress my ill placed laugh.

'I am no lady. You may call me Quesse. I am here to change your dressing. The healer Linaewen will be with you shortly.'

I unraveled his clothed arm and gasped at the deep gash underneath. I surmised the wound would not clot on it's own.

'Linaewen? Where are you? I need help,' I pleaded. She was not next to the archer where I had seen her last. Instead, I called for the attention of an officer from the other army as he entered the tent not far from me. He surveyed the fallen and his eyes fell on the ellon I was attending.

'You there,' I addressed him, 'will you assist me?'

He turned his dark head towards me and his eyes spoke of sadness.

'Please, I need to retrieve something to slow the bleed or he will loose too much.' He knelt beside me and reached his hand to mine where it covered the wound.

'What do you need?'

'My friend's herb bag. Please apply pressure in this spot. I shall be right back.' He did as I bid him. I scurried up and away quickly, returning with a glass jar with a metal lid. I cut a long length of clean cloth and readied it by tossing it over my shoulder while I used my finger to swirl the contents of the jar to a thick paste. I had the officer lift his hand and immediately the blood oozed forth. I lavished a large glob of the gooey substance over the blood and blew on it gently. From experience, I knew the substance would dry quickly helping to prevent more loss. I took a better look at the dark elf assisting me and realized now he was likely an officer of some importance. The tunic he wore, though ruined, was finely tailored. The stitching was even across the seams, with a certain amount of detail and effort put into it.

'Thank you. I can get it from here.'

He nodded, but assisted me anyway. He grasped the length of cloth and pulled it cleanly away from my shoulder and wound the wound with notable skill.

'He shall fare well under your care, healer.'

'I'm not a true healer, other then practical knowledge. My friend has taught me. I'm a harbinger.'

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he quickly visually apraised me. When I frowned at the candid look he gave me he chuckled.

'Under Fingon, eh?'

'Yes, but how did you --'

'I know my brother's taste,' Turgon stood then, and walked away without a second glance.

I'm glad he did not hear my unflattering stutter. I brandished a wooden cup of water for the now bandaged soldier and went to the next bed roll. I ask him if he's knows my father and he said he does. After dozens of questions I find that he has not seen him in nearly a week. Adar was out on errand when the whole of the battle took place. He smiles weakly as I hug him so tightly I likely bruised him in relief.

Hours later, it finally occurred to me the full weight of my conversation with Prince Turgon. I went to my tent and glanced at myself in the hand held looking mirror. Oh Eru, I looked horrible!

Thick mud caked my one cheek and blood splatter covered nearly everything else. I know the torrential rainfall threw mud about as the horses splashed about.

I am trying to put it out of my mind by taking this moment to get a quick dunk in the stream. The few other elleth in this camp will be there, cleaning their clothes and linens that has been soiled in healing tents. I haven't changed in three days and my shirt is stuck to me. Truly disgusting.

Yours in honor,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 5

Dear Journal,

Glorfindel lead us back into battle and we hunted down the last of the orcish armies of Morgoth. Yesterday, I heard both the elvish Lord, Maedhros, came to our aid, along with Prince Turgon's forces. Morgoth's army did not stand a chance. Alcarin returned unharmed to my great relief. Sidh would be terribly upset if we lost our favorite stable master. Sidh was unnerved at the sounds of carnage in the distance. Not from fear, but if for any other reason, he wanted to charge down there and assist his Prince. Sidh would spend most of the battle trotting in place, ready to charge if I was to only give the word.

I had not seen Fingon but for fleeting moments in the encampment after the battle. I was grateful he had not been injured in battle. Linaewen assured me he was well, but extremely busy with debriefing his officers on the battle.

I shuddered, remembering how the orcish forces broke on the front
lines like our river at my childhood home, when the spring floods would push and spray over the edges of its bed. It occurred to me then, that I had not once been afraid. It had been exciting. I did not even realize until we had won, that my arms and seat hurt from being on in the saddle for nearly nine days straight. I had been too enthralled to notice much else.

I managed to find time again for yet another dunk in the stream nearby. I was thinking of all of this when I walked up the slope out of the river and nearly to my clothing when he appeared from behind a tree. Fingon stopped suddenly and watched me intently. I was self-conscious under his close scrutiny and embarrassed at the horrible timing of the moment. I scurried to where I had stashed my clean clothes and dressed as quickly as I was able. He waited to approach me until after I was finished. I apologized, telling him it was my fault, I usually have Linaewen close by to keep an eye out. I cleared my throat waiting for some sort of response. When he said nothing, I took initiative.

'Sire, how are you this fine morning?'

He said nothing for a moment, before speaking. Maybe he was offended to have seen me undressed. Was my body really that offensive? I admit I haven't much shape. More than once Glorfindel would call me 'bean pole' or something equally rude. It must be my hair, it's still rather short. I decided to keep it short, for it was being pulled a lot by the links in my chain mail. After the battle, Linaewen joked she could put a berry basket on my head and use the upside down shape to trim all the long ends off every few weeks. I thought it a wonderful idea and we both laughed thoroughly.

When I realized he was staring at me, I paled, aware he was waiting for some sort of response. Oh, Valar, he had asked me a question and I didn't even notice.

'Sire?'

'I asked if the weather has been bearable.'

'It has been, sire. The first few days were rough, but I've come a long way.'

'I must agree. I've decided to leave you with the third cavalry. They believe you bring good luck. The third cavalry was the only unit not to lose a single party member.'

'I am happy anytime my people come home safely. I met your brother yesterday in the healing tent,' I blurted out to break the silence.

'So he told me. Learned much from Linaewen, haven't you?'

'Yes, Linaewen, Glorfindel, even Ecthelion.'

He snorted at the herald's name, and I smiled. We fell into silence again for a long moment and I yearned for something proper to say. I was not good at words or timing. He walked around me and surveyed the stream where I had been bathing. It was uncharacteristic of him to be as quiet from my stay with him at our training camp. The battle must have worn on his soul, I concluded. He tapped at a river stone near his toe before continuing. 'Herald, I wish you to work in controlling your horse. The next time we see battle, I want him standing still. He draws too much attention to you squirming in his spot. I fear for your safety.'

I admitted I had not thought of that and that I promised I would work on it immediately. I nodded and curtseyed, an awkward thing to do in leggings and a damp shirt sticking to me.

'I require your talents,' he spoke quietly, as I gathered up my lye soap and he handed me my wash towel that I had discarded on a large boulder.

'I am yours to command, my Prince.'

He held a scroll out and I took it and inspected it. His seal was quite similar to the King's. I can remember it clearly, even all those months later.

'My last scout did not survive this last battle. This must be delivered to Doriath, to the Sindar lord, Thingol. '

'King Thingol?'

'King Fingolfin is your king,' Fingon hissed dangerously, 'there is
no other king. Deliver this to LORD Thingol. Or just Thingol. I care not how you address him. . . though he may.'

My hand shook at his sudden burst of temper as he pressed the second scroll in my hand. His voice fell into an even cadence again, 'and this goes to the wife of a Noldor soldier. She resides in Thingol's court. Unlike the other elves there, this noble has dark hair, like mine.'

'The name?'

'Is unimportant to you. I'm certain you can recognize a Noldor among Sindar.' It was obvious to me he did not care to share any further information, so I did not press him any farther.

'I will leave immediately. Sidh is swift, we will be there in three days.' I grasped the last scroll, but he did not release it. Instead, he pulled me closer to him, and his breath as he spoke unsettled my short hair about my cheek.

'You will need to be more swift than that, we leave in five. Quesse. . . I'm trusting you with something you cannot fathom it's importance. Do not open these messages. Do not allow them into the hands of anyone other than the intended owners. Do not stop for any reason. If you are captured . . .we will not come for you. I -- I will not come for you.'

'Yes, my Prince, I understand.'

'You may try to give him this larger of the two scrolls, but I doubt he will give you a second glance. Save your efforts, and just give them both to her and she will return them back. Do this for our people.'

'I do this because you ask it of me,' I whispered.

It was then he leaned down to me and I felt Fingon's caressing fingers as he moved the wet tendrils of my hair from my forehead. The gentleness of his fingers mapped out the features of my cheek to my chin and upwards again to the tip of my ear. I could not read his masked expression. He withdrew quickly and glanced about to make sure no one had seen us.

Afterward, he left the edge of the water and I stood for a long moment. My cheek felt funny were his warm, smooth touch had brushed it.

I dressed in my chainmail and packed everything else in a wagon to travel. I was careful not to bring anything that would identify me as Noldor. Unfortunately, there would be no way to hide my ancestry as my ears poked though the sides my short hair. I've also decided it best to leave this journal at base camp locked up in my box on the wagon and write upon my return. Until then.

Long live the true King,

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 10

Dear Journal,

I met with Fingon one last time before my departure and he showed me the way on one of his detailed maps of Beleriand. He insisted that I would not get lost, but I had my doubts. I should not have. I thought about how the odd sound of urgency in Fingon's voice made goose bumps rise from my arms and I shuddered as if cold. I left as soon as he excused me from his tent.

When I turned towards Doriath and gave Sidh free rein, the stallion kicked out playfully before galloping across the open terrain. He knew the way, as if by instinct. I had him follow the Sirion River as I was shown by Fingon. On the second day I was well into the oak wood forests before I found any notable signs of life.

I was several leagues out when I met with the first bit of resistance. The mounted sentries rode descendants of Mearas, the noblest of horses in all of Arda. Their eyes immediately fell on my stallion, who snorted and lathered foam from his mouth as he ground his jaw impatiently against his bit. They searched my packs and saw that I was relatively unarmed except for a hunting knife and my bow with a quiver of arrows. They questioned my story several times over, glancing from me to my horse several times. It's obvious to me now they recognized him. Maybe Fingon rode him here once?

They finally relented and took me to their sentry captain. Again, I relayed my story, I was a messenger sent to Thingol's kingdom from Fingon. He, too, glanced at Sidh. Shockingly, he took my story at face value and personally guided me onward.

The great city was enchanted in a way I cannot explain. I had not seen or felt such feeling before, other than I knew it was present. The marble and stone was cut with sharp precision built into impenetrable walls with armed sentries above. They watched us with a cautious eye as I was led through the marketplace and past the lower terraces where common elves made their homes.

I was tired from my journey, and I felt a slight hesitation as we passed by open windows that held pies and loafs of bread left out on sills for cooling. At the smell of fresh rye, I foamed at the mouth almost as much as Sidh had. My silly horse gladly tried to wrestle me for it. If I had not pulled his head sharply away in time some family would be without their breakfast.

Thingol, Lord of the Sindar, regarded me closely for the entire fifteen minutes I was in his presence. I know not what I expected, only that he glowed with a radiance I have witnessed only a few times in my lifetime. It's something about the air around him. . . as if the air itself held is breath and shuddered as he moved. He rose from his throne with the grace and elegance bestowed only to those of nobility. I could only try my best not to be the sweaty, mismatched, chainmail wearing herald standing on his pristine white tiled floors. I looked about me and noticed I had literally left dirt and grime tracks from the entryway to the exact spot I was standing. One of his nobles stepped forward to greet me, but Thingol waved him back with cool grace.

'You have traveled far, young herald. On behalf of the Sindar, let me please welcome you to our kingdom properly. Take recreation here, and dine with us until your soul and steed are fully rested,' Thingol made a sweeping motion towards the balcony, where I could clearly see the fast rooftops of the homes, shops, and theaters of the grand city.

He turned towards the ellon he had waved back and handed him the scroll I had just given him.

'Prince Fingon wished --'

'I will consider your liege's request,' Thingol said quietly, after reading though the scroll quickly, 'Only consider. You may tell him that.' He then handed the scroll back to me.

I shifted in my boots, not knowing what else to say. Fingon wanted an exacting response. My face must have betrayed me, for he smiled and added, 'I will consider it soon. Just not at this moment. Here! Sit! You must be exhausted.'

'I am but a simple messenger, sent here for deliveries. I have no need for luxuries.'

'Messages? You have another? Hand it here then, waste no time and hand it to me.'

'Tis for a Noldor noble, in your court.'

'There are no Noldor in my court. . . not anymore. . . and you can tell him I said so,' Thingol chuckled, 'Fingon must have taken a blow to the head recently.'

It was that point that I became offended. 'My Prince is brave and true, please do not speak ill of him in my company.'

A low murmur rose among the partisans, but Thingol continued to smile.
'Fingon sends me an obstinate elfling,' he chuckled to the members of his court, who in turn, laughed as well. 'I have withdrawn my offer. You may leave my kingdom immediately. You may tell him I said, "May Doriath burn to the ground before I would consider it." Safe travels, elleth.'

His sudden change of demeanor left me stunned. I could do little else but exit like a meek lamb as the guards came forth and guided me with no uncertain terms to the doorway. I walked to the expansive staircase and sat down about two-thirds of the way down. Exhausted, I sat for most of the morning trying to figure out what to do with the second scroll.

'You are Noldor?' A voice came from behind me. I turned my head and was blinded by the sun as I looked into her face. A crown of soft brown hair fell about her shoulders and she knelt down and extended her hand to help me rise to my feet. 'He sent you, did he not?' She continued to ask, and I did not know if I should speak the truth. It was likely this was the elleth Fingon wished for me to find, but maybe it was not. 'Did the son of Fingolfin send you or not?'

'Yes, he did.'

She laughed lightly. 'At last! Ecthelion spoke highly of you to me, just a week ago. He received word you had arrived.'

I felt a surge of satisfaction that Ecthelion remembered me. Her eyes twinkled, she was obviously satisfied by my unspoken response.

'Fingon sent me to find the wife a a Noldor noble who resided in this court. Thingol said there was none,' I told her, standing from the steps and straightening my armor.

'Thingol, he has quite a sense of humor doesn't he?' I must have looked confused because she laughed then. I withdrew the crushed scroll for the elleth and handed it to her. She snapped open the seal and read it thoroughly. She lent no explanation, but thanked me for traveling so far for such a simple thing. I nodded mutely and gave my good-byes.

'Wait!' She gathered sections of her dress and followed after me.

'Yes, my lady?'

'Tell him I expect correspondence on a regular basis from now on. He may send you. Was there another letter? I suspect there was.'

'I shall tell him so. Yes, there was, but Lord Thingol dismissed it,' I held out the now wrinkled page I retrieved from under my tunic. She read over it and gave me a hesitant look.

'Tell him I will convince my King to sign and lend aid.'

'He seemed to be steadfast in his decision,' I ventured that Fingon's letter to this elleth mirrored the same words as in the letter to Thingol.

'My dearest Lord Thingol will change his mind, give it time. Tell Fingon to write me again, and soon.' She disappeared from my view and I knew not what else to do or say from that point on. I gathered my horse from the stable and set back for our encampment two days from here.

My return trip took nearly two days of riding. I returned to the Noldor battle encampment with a confused heart. I stood before Fingon's desk, empty-handed and exhausted. I wobbled uncontrollably in my worn-though boots on the edge of sleep deprivation. Around us, the moon hung low in the night sky, and I could hear the forest sleeping around us. Scouts moved about the trees ensuring our safety while the others rested. Most of the encampment would be brought down around us at dawn. His main tent would remain until nearly last, for everyone knew their Prince stayed up long hours at night and slept mostly in the morning.

'Then she said she would speak to him and convince him otherwise. She kept both pages of correspondence,' I told him, recanting my entire adventure.

Fingon nodded absently, as he sat on the edge of his desk trying rather unsuccessfully to remove a knot from his left boot. He wobbled as he leaned back and hooked his ankle over his knee. He was hardly listening, but did respond 'no' when I asked if he needed assistance. With a disgruntled sigh, he reached for his belt, and withdrew a short bladed knife and eyed the knotted lace for a final moment.

'Sire, please, allow me to assist you,' staying his hand with my own. He glanced up at me and nodded after a moment. His dark brown eyes twinkled with amusement as I picked carefully at the water tightened knot. He held perfectly still, but the entwined cord refused to budge. He chuckled when I finally demanded his knife. He surrendered it and I took my turn picking at the loop. Fingon declared victory when the stubborn cord became loose and he was able to free his foot. He flung the boot halfway across the room, before kicking loose the other.

He reached for my palm, and turned it upwards, placing a chaste kiss to it's heel. He pulled me so close with the movement my tattered tunic brushed against his bare chest. 'This is mine,' he whispered.
A most unintelligible, 'nugh,' sound escaped my lips, before I asked, 'truly?'

'Aye. . .' as removed the knife from my free hand. When I realized it was only the knife he wanted, I surrendered it quickly. He turned away from me then and gathered a thin garment from the back of his chair.

'Good evening to you, Quesse.'

'Thank you, my Prince.'

I darted out of the tent and ran full speed back to my own. I pulled the flap door down and collapsed into my cot when I was secure in knowing I was alone. I felt hot, cold, and everything in between all at once. It was as if I was beginning to fade all at once again. A small smile I could not disguise on my face convinced me I was not.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 21

Glorfindel is finally content in my progress. I can now mount and dismount at full speed while carrying a full sized banner. I've memorized formations of troops, signal calls between battalions and beginning swordplay. I still have some work to do, but I fear it no more. He's passed me off to yet another commander to teach me this, because he's working with a new flag-bearer. He tells me he's content in my training and there is little more he can teach. Time in battle will make me stronger.

I glance to the circular arena and take note of the new flag-bearer. She is young, but not as young as I am. She is a bit skittish, and during the course of my conversation with Glorfindel, she has nearly dropped her small pole with a tunic tied to the end twice.

I felt a surge of unwarranted jealousy. He grasped my hand and leaned in close.

'I see the distrust in your eyes. Quesse, you have a gentle nature and were meant for greater things. You will thank me when the time comes.' He whispered all this in my ear as he gave a sharp nod in the direction of his new apprentice.

Quesse

==

I Age, Year 74, Yvanniaë day 28

Again, Fingon has sent me to visit with the elleth in Thingol's court. This time I did not get as far. The guard stopped me just before I could see the city. They held me there and fetched the elleth. I sat on the back of my great stallion for several hours outside the gate under the blistering sun.

Just as I had given up hope, I saw a lone rider in the distance. When she rounded the bend of the river, I saw it was not the same elleth I had met on the steps in the capitol. This elleth sat side seat in a lady's saddle, something I had not seen since the land commissioner's wife. I suppose all ladies of formal upbringing do such things. Her silver gown flowed off the cream colored horse's back as she brought it to a halt beside me.

I suppose my open mouthed stare was something she was accustomed to, or just too polite to comment on. She was gifted with beauty I had never seen in my young existence. If I had been on the ground, I would have felt obligated to curtesy.

'You have returned!' she smiled breathlessly, 'I am Lúthien. I come on the lady's behalf. You see, my father, Thingol, will not allow you passage to our city. Whatever did you say to him?' she chuckled, 'Nay! Do not say! Fear not, young one. He will not dismiss you for long. Your deeds on the fields of battle precede you. He cannot deny you for long, he values courage and beauty above all else.'

'As I was ordered, I return with Fingon's message. The letter for the lady.' She took it from me then, and tucked it into the inner portion of her cloak and removed a letter from the same spot for me.
'This is for his eyes only. You will not read it. Make haste,' she demanded, turning away from me.

I asked her if there was anything else, but she did not hear me. I went to follow her, but the guard stopped me.

'You must leave now.'

'But --' I stammered.

'Our King has forbidden you from entering the city,' the guard spoke, 'All correspondence now will be sent though King Thingol's daughter. He does not know of this exchange and you will not speak of it.'

I did not understand immediately, but I had much time to think about it on my ride back to our encampment.

When I arrived, I did not take refuge as I wanted to. I rode Sidh directly to the center of the camp, where I knew his tent would be. I marched directly in the tent, past his hunting dogs to where he sat alone at his grand table.

'I've been banished from his kingdom,' I declared unceremoniously as I pushed though the canvas openings of his main tent.

He glanced up with a mixed look of frustration and ire, as I had apparently interrupted his train of thought.

'I knew it was inevitable. I hoped he would have liked you enough to exchange passage for a short while.'

'Exchange,' I cocked my head sideways questioningly, allowing my chain mail coif to slide a back off my head.

He stood suddenly as if annoyed by his ill spoken words. He bound past me and drew the door flaps closed from outsiders.

'Did she give you anything in return?'

'Explain 'exchange' to me, for I am a simple elleth and require simple explanations.'

'Don't play the dunce, it does not suit you.'

'I have been informed by the Lady Lúthien that all correspondence is to pass to her from now on.'

'I intend for you keep him company and in 'exchange' he would allow me to keep in contact with her. I intend to barter for usage of his armies.'

I choked on the bile that rose quickly in the back of my throat.

'She's not really a wife of a Noldor noble.'

'You figured that out all on your own, didn't you?' He sneered. Fingon was out of his chair and came at me eating ground in angry strides.

'You told me she was the wife of a Noldor officer. What officer? You fancy another ellon's wife, don't you?' I know not what drove me to insolence other than heat exhaustion and lack of sleep.

He spun me around with such force I could feel his fingers bite though the upper part of my arms.

'As I said. . . you are not as stupid as you would wish me to think. What did Lúthien say?'

'They stopped me far from the city, Fingon. They would not let me enter. Lady Lúthien met me outside in the forest, but only after nearly half the day had passed and I had time to bake in the sun.' I tried not to squirm as he held me close, reading my face as I continued to speak. 'She bid me to return a letter to you. It's in my tunic. Please, Fingon, your hurting me.'

His elegantly sculpted eyebrow rose slowly at the casual way I said his name, but he said nothing on the matter. His tight fingers slowly relented on my arms and he searched my face with a flicker of his eyes. He snaked his hand under my chainmail and cloth tunic to remove the squashed scroll before stepping back.

He stepped away, and unrolled it and scanned the page quickly. He glanced back to me.

'Did you read the contents of this?' His eyes were unreadable, hooded and dark.

'No, I did not.'

'Take Sidh to the stable. Bathe and change, but return here. You dine with me tonight. I will share a story with you.'

Long live the king,

Quesse
------------------------------------------------------------------

Printed from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sat Nov 14, 2026 7:34 pm