The Harbinger

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.


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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



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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?