Home Is Behind by grey_gazania

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Chapter 3

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Ereiniel woke the next morning snuggled up against her mother, warm and comfortable now that she was back in a real bed. But the sun was peeking over the horizon and she could hear the seabirds calling to each other, their voices loud and rough. “Nana,” she whispered, nudging Ianneth’s shoulder. “Nana.”

 

“Mmm,” Ianneth mumbled, resting an arm over her eyes.

 

“Nana.”

 

Ianneth blinked blearily at her daughter. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

 

“Nana, it’s morning.” Ereiniel sat up and gave a little bounce. “We’re supposed to look around the city!”

 

“It’s barely dawn,” Ianneth groaned.

 

“But Nana.”

 

“Ergh…” Ianneth sat up, rubbing her eyes with her palms and sighing heavily. “Breakfast first," she said, giving in. "And we need to wait for Lord Círdan’s guide. We don’t want to get lost. This is a big city, Ereiniel, almost as big as Barad Eithel.”

 

They dressed in lighter clothes, for it was warmer in Eglarest, especially when the sun was out. It had been a long time since Ereiniel had worn short sleeves, and the freckles on her arms were barely visible. She frowned a little. Like her blue eyes, her freckles were a trait she shared with her father. I hope he writes soon, she thought.

 

"Hey," Ianneth said, noticing her frown. "Chin up, love. You'll make new friends today."

 

Ereiniel nodded and took her mother's hand, and they went to meet Lord Círdan's guide.

 

***********

 

After a brief tour of the nearby parts of the city — the market, the harbor, and the craftsmen's quarter — Ianneth dropped Ereiniel off at the play area near the edge of the market. "Don't leave the square," she instructed. "I'm going to visit the Houses of Healing. You behave until I get back, okay?"

 

"I will." Ereiniel watched her mother go and then stood on the edge of the square, watching a group of children as they skipped rope. She was about to ask to join their game when she heard a commotion behind her. A gaggle of boys was darting through the crowd, a ragdoll clutched in one's hands.

 

"Crybaby!" the boy yelled, lifting it high in the air. "Maewen is a crybaby!"

 

A smaller girl was running after him, breathing heavily and hiccuping with tears. "Give her back! Erestor!"

 

You are from a line of kings, and kings must take care of their people, Ereiniel heard her father say as she observed the scene before her. We have a duty to help those who need it. So, as the boy ran past, she jumped up and snatched the doll from his hands. He skidded to a halt with a cry of, "Hey!" but by then Ereiniel had the doll clamped firmly against her chest, out of his grasp.

 

The girl called Maewen soon caught up with them, breathless, with tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. "Give her back," she sobbed, and Ereiniel handed the doll over, positioning herself between Maewen and the boys.

 

"You're being mean," she announced, glaring up at Erestor.

 

For a moment he seemed entirely wrong-footed, but then he rallied. "You're protecting a baby," he sneered. "A crybaby."

 

"And you're being a bully,” she sniffed. “Better a baby than a bully. You stop picking on her or else!" She turned on her heel, wrapped an arm around Maewen's shoulders, and began to steer the girl away, ignoring the jeers coming from Erestor's group.

 

Maewen had her face pressed into her doll's hair, muffling her tears, so Ereiniel found herself looking around for a place for them to sit. She spotted a place by the market wall, half-hidden by a stack of barrels, and tugged Maewen over. "It's okay," she said, rubbing Maewen's back the way her mother rubbed hers when she cried. "He's just a big ol' meanie."

 

Maewen sniffled and nodded. "Thank you," she mumbled. "For getting Dandelion back."

 

"That's a good name," Ereiniel said, looking at the doll's wooly, white hair and bright yellow dress. "Mine's called Bean. But she's still packed away."

 

"How come?"

 

"We just moved here yesterday. Me and Nana," Ereiniel explained. "My name’s Ereiniel."

 

"I'm Maewen. And the meanie is Erestor. He's my cousin." She tugged at one of her curls, shiny chestnut in color, and frowned. "He's always picking on me."

 

"Well, he won't anymore," Ereiniel said, lifting her chin. "I won’t let him. My father taught me to always stand up to bullies."

 

Maewen smiled shyly. “Do you want to play hopscotch with me?” she asked.

 

“What’s hopscotch?”

 

“Come on,” Maewen said, her smile widening as she stood. “I’ll show you.”  She led Ereiniel to a corner of the square, where a numbered grid was chalked on the stones. Ereiniel could see where it had been traced over again as the older chalk lines had faded.

 

“Oh, I know how to play this,” she said, as Maewen picked up a smooth rock from the small pile that sat beside the grid. “We call it peevers back home. You have to hop and knock the rock into the next box without touching the lines, right?”

 

“That’s right,” Maewen said. “I’ve never heard anybody call in peevers before. Where are you from? It must be far away.”

 

Ereiniel nodded. “I’m from Hithlum,” she said. “It is far away. It took us more than a week to get here, Nana and me. That’s even longer than when we used to ride to visit my grandfather at Barad Eithel.”

 

“Isn’t that a Golodhrim city?” Maewen said. “Are you a Golodh?”

 

Ereiniel shrugged. “My father is. But my mother is from Lake Mithrim. I’m sort of both, I suppose.” She chose a stone and booted it into the grid, but paused briefly before hopping to ask, “What about you? Does your whole family live here?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Maewen said, watching as her new friend hopped and spun. “My parents have lived in Eglarest all their lives, and my grandparents, and my great-grandparents, too. My father and his father and his father are all clammers. I’m going to be a weaver, though, like my mother. Nana’s already teaching me. I’m good at it, too,” she added, a touch of pride in her voice. “I can already make cheesecloth that’s good enough to use.”

 

Ereiniel was impressed, and said so. “You must have good hands. I can spin, but I can’t weave,” she told Maewen as Maewen tossed her own stone onto the peever grid. “I don’t know what I want to do when I get older, though. Maybe be a healer like my mother.”

 

“What does your father do?” Maewen asked. “Is he a smith? Erestor says all the Golodhrim are smiths.”

 

“Well, that’s not true,” Ereiniel said. “Ada’s a–” She paused for the briefest of moments and then finished, “–soldier. He protects Hithlum from orcs and other foul things.”

 

She felt a little uneasy about lying to someone she had befriended, someone she had already decided that she liked, but on the whole she thought that in this case it was better not to tell the full truth. Some of the children at Barad Eithel had always treated her differently because her father was the crown prince, and she could only imagine that that would happen again here, but even worse, if she told people that her father was High King of the Noldor – assuming they even believed her.

 

At least it didn’t seem to have occurred to Maewen to ask about Ereiniel’s name – daughter of kings. But someone probably would. Maybe, Ereiniel thought, she ought to start using her mother-name, Gilwen, instead. She’d have to talk it over with Nana later.

 

Leaving those thoughts unvoiced, she continued playing with Maewen until her mother returned and told her it was time for lunch. “See you tomorrow?” Ereiniel asked as she said goodbye to Maewen.

 

Maewen nodded enthusiastically, and said, “I’ll be here! And you should bring your doll, that way Dandelion can play with Bean.”

 

“I will,” Ereiniel promised.

 

*************

 

“See, you’ve made a friend already,” Ianneth said to her daughter as they returned to Lord Círdan’s house for lunch. “And this afternoon we’ll unpack and write letters to your father for Gurvadhor to carry back with him, and tomorrow you can see your new friend again. Won’t that be nice?”

 

She knew that she was trying a little too hard to be cheerful, but she hoped that Ereiniel would be too happy at having made a new friend to notice. For her part, Ianneth was far from at ease here. Just as Ereiniel had never been so far from home before, neither had Ianneth ever been so thoroughly separated from her own parents and sister. She wished Tinneth were here with her now. They had always been close, and Ianneth would have liked someone to confide in regarding the sudden fracture of her marriage. She had thought Fingon was content in their relationship, but apparently she’d been wrong.

 

At least she would still be able to be of use in Eglarest. Halwen, the woman who ran the Houses of Healing, had been impressed by Ianneth’s knowledge of herb lore and had offered her a place straight away, saying that she would always welcome a skilled set of hands. Ianneth was glad of that; it would give her something to do to take her mind off her current troubles.

 

“Hey, Nana?” Ereiniel asked, once they’d returned to their rooms after lunch. “I was wondering… Do you think I should start using Gilwen instead of Ereiniel?”

 

Caught off-guard by the question, Ianneth blinked in surprise. “Why should you do that, love?” she said.

 

Ereiniel chewed on her lower lip for a moment before answering. “I was just thinking,” she said. “You remember how some of the children at Barad Eithel didn’t ever really play with me because of Ada, because they thought they would get in trouble if we argued? What if it’s like that here, too? What if the other children don’t want to play with me because Ada is king now? I mean, my name makes it kind of obvious to anyone who thinks about it.”

 

Oh, to have the small worries of a small girl, Ianneth thought wistfully. Aloud, she said, “I don’t think you should hide who you are, Ereiniel. We’re not here incognito. The other children will find out, even if you don’t tell them yourself. And if they don’t want to play with you, that just shows they weren’t worth being friends with in the first place. Real friends will judge you on your own merits. Think about that, all right?”

 

“Yes, Nana,” she said. “I will.”

 

“Now,” Ianneth said, “it’s time for you to take a nap.”

 

Once she’d tucked her daughter into bed, she sat down at the table by the window to begin writing to Fingon. But after staring at the blank parchment for a good twenty minutes, she had to admit to herself that she didn’t know what to say. All the things she wanted to say – how could you do this, why did you do it, am I not enough for you, how long have you been lying to me, do you realize how much you’ve hurt me? – were too sensitive to put on paper where they might be read by prying eyes.

 

Perhaps she should have let him explain, rather than locking herself in Ereiniel’s room, if only so she could have had more information. But she couldn’t even conceive of any explanation that wouldn’t have made her feel even worse. Seeing those drawings, she’d felt like someone had struck her hard in the chest, and Fingon’s reaction to her discovery had cracked her heart in two.

 

But she would have to be strong for her daughter. One thing was certain: Ereiniel must never know about this.

 

After another fifteen minutes’ thought and some surreptitious tears, Ianneth finally put pen to paper.

 

Dear Fingon,

 

I hope you will be glad to hear that our  journey was uneventful. We have arrived safely in Eglarest and are beginning to settle in. Ereiniel has already made a friend here, which should come as no surprise. Our daughter has always been an outgoing little girl.

 

I’ve made arrangements to spend the mornings assisting in the Houses of Healing here; it will be good to have some work to take my mind off things. Afternoons will be spent seeing to Ereiniel’s education, as I did in Hithlum. I think it will be another year or two before we need a dedicated tutor, but I will keep you apprised of her progress.

 

Lord Círdan has been very kind, and I believe we will be as safe here as you hoped.

 

Your faithful wife,

 

Ianneth

 

True, it was a short message, she thought as she looked the letter over, but then, what else was there to say? So she folded the parchment, poured a blob of warm wax, and stamped it with her seal. She would give it to Gurvadhor in the morning, along with the letter that she would help Ereiniel write once she woke from her nap.

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Chapter End Notes

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