The Harbinger

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.


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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