The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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The Alliance - Part 1

Chrys tries to cement an alliance with the free peoples of the south but the Court has other plans.  The Guild encounters men for the first time.

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22)  The Alliance Part 1 – Year of the Sun 300 Tuilë (Spring)

 

Chrys Menelrana

It took almost a year of arguing about the venue, followed by a year of arguing about the terms, followed by three months of arguing over the name, but a decision was finally made. It would be the Southern Confederation. Chrys Menelrana thought it was bland, but it was acceptable to all parties.  There were times when he wondered if elven immortality led to complacency.  He had heard reports of human clans in the area and how quickly they grew, their short lifespans seeming to drive them to expand.

He sat at the great oak table in the main hall in his manor in Tumlindë.  High, vaulted ceilings with wooden beams and arches held up the structure that was a pleasing blend of nature and civilization.  Even the trunks and branches of trees were woven into the walls.  Carvings of life in Valinor were set and painted into the wood and intricately woven tapestries adorned the walls.  Chrys looked at one tapestry that he always treasured, that showed Silvan elves dancing in a meadow.  It was woven by his wife, Aelrie and her sister, Miriani.  The talent and life that they brought to this home was his pride and joy.

He put his fingers on his chin and looked around at his family and the members of the Guild of Elements.  This group had been 250 years in the making and he was pleased with the work that was done. His wife, Aelrie, sat to his right, her face full of joy beneath her red hair.  She was instrumental in bringing about this alliance.  Chrys was so grateful for her gentle, diplomatic style. To his left was his son, Laurre, now full grown into manhood, a striking image of his father with wavy locks of golden hair, and a strong chin and nose.  With the exception of Laurre’s cobalt blue eyes, he could be Chrys’ twin brother.  He had already become a fine swordsman and rider, but was untested in actual battle. They, in turn, were flanked by the rest of the Guild, Talan, Elerior, Carnil, Ralian and Fëatur.

Chrys looked out of the great bay window of his manor to a spring downpour.  During the years that the Guild had been headquartered there, he had come to know the seasons like the back of his hand.  Tuilë was known for rising temperatures and heavy rain.  His knowledge of the weather was rewarded with the flash of lightning and the crackle of thunder.  “The rain hasn’t let up in days and the roads are awash with mud. I’m worried about our guests. Have the scouts returned?”

Fëatur leaned forward and shook his head.  “No one has checked in yet.”

Chrys blew out a long sigh. His muscles twitched and he kept pursing his lips, growing increasingly frustrated.  He had to do something.  He had to make sure his new friends were safe.  Only a handful of people knew of this meeting and the routes to the manor. Still, he couldn’t shake the unease. He stood up sharply and grunted. “I cannot sit here, warm and dry when our guests are out there.  I’m heading out.”

Aelrie seized his hand and looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open, her earlier smile gone.  “No love!  It’s horrible out there.”

Chrys leaned over and kissed her.  “That’s exactly why I have to go.  These will be our friends and allies.  I have to go. I will bring all home safe.”  He motioned to one of the guards, a Sindarin elf with copper hair and blue eyes.  “Ruston, I’m heading to the stable.  Could you help me with my horse?”

Ruston nodded, but Laurre and Fëatur stood and raised their hands.  “I’ll help,” Laurre announced and Fëatur nodded.

Chrys smiled broadly. He was happy that they volunteered. “The more the merrier.  He put his arm around his son’s shoulders and the four strode to the stable.  The pounding of the rain could be heard on the roof and the horses seemed uneasy, nickering and hooves scraping the straw on the ground.  They pulled waterproof blankets off of the racks along with saddles and bridles.  Chrys placed his gray blanket over his horse’s back and unrolled it up to its neck. He threw his saddle over and pulled the girth tight and then he eased the bit into its mouth.  “I need you today Angaroco,” he said in a soothing voice, patting the stallion’s nose.

Standing on the ground, Laurre handing his father his sword, Kirlhach.  Chrys accepted the blade and gave his son his famous half grin, the side of his mouth curled up with some teeth showing.  He was enjoying some of the fame that came with victory in the Dagor Aglareb and he now had a bit of a reputation as a roguish character.  He slid the scabbard into a harness that went over his shoulder down to his hip.

He waited until his companions mounted up and then he leaned over and whispered into Angaroco’s ear.  The horse trotted out of the stable and into the pouring rain.  Chrys looked up and tasted the drops in his mouth.  He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and motioned forward.  “We’ll follow the main road that I gave to our friends.  We may need to split up if we see any sign of them moving off of the path.”

Fëatur moved his hand across the horizon.  “My glyphs and wards will not affect them.  They’re only for the minions of Morgoth,” he said with a grimace.  I will know if any are set off.”

Chrys nodded.  “Very good.  Let’s ride out,” he said and tapped Angaroco’s flank and the horse trotted out, hooves splashing in the mud.  Chrys knew that the road was barely that, mostly dirt trails through the woods and jungles of the vale.  Some parts were paved with crushed ash mixed in with a hardening slurry to give it resilience to the pounding of hooves.  He actually loved the natural feel to the road and so did little to improve it over the years.  He wished that he had been smarter now that they were in ponding water that rose over the horse’s fetlocks.  “I know,” he said, looking back at Fëatur.  “I should have done it last year in the dryer season.”

Fëatur gave him a wry smile, one side of his mouth curled up.  “Oh, don’t rush on my behalf.  At least the orcs will get lost too.”

Chrys had come to love that sardonic humor.  He liked having members of the Guild challenge him and keep him focused and honest. He had seen when blindly following a leader could do immense harm.  The slavish devotion that was shown to Fëanor brought great harm to the elves and would continue to do so.  And the cult that was forming around Morgoth was incomprehensible.  Word of live sacrifices had filtered in from scouts and Chrys knew that he had to put a stop to it.  He knew that he could count on Fëatur to help, but sometimes the man’s fanaticism at stopping Morgoth was worrisome.

After an hour on the road, Chrys thought he saw three riders approaching through the mist.  They were all clad in white hooded robes that were now soaked with rain.  Water cascaded down their clothes and horses, pooling in the mud below.

Fëatur raised his hand and his eyes lit up.  “Ho! It’s the Three from Ty-Ar-Rana.”   He rose up in his stirrups.  “Ho, Lyaan, Lysa, Lyrin!  It’s me!”

Lyaan urged his horse forward and he squinted his eyes.  “Fëatur!  Well met. The weather has us bogged down and I’m afraid we got lost more than once.”

“It was four times,” Lysa chimed in as she wrung water from her golden hair to which Lyaan shrugged with a wry smile.

The Three moved forward and nodded greetings to Chrys and the others.  Chrys extended his hand to Lyaan who took it gladly.  The leader of the Three pointed back up the trail.  “The Starseer Enclave stopped to rest a half a league back.  Their horses were spent.  We pressed on in the hope of finding help, but it looks like you found us first.”

Chrys pursed his lips. This was good and bad news.  But he needed to know more.  “And what of the Luingon Federation?  They should be sending twenty delegates.  I received word from Naeve of their departure.”

Lyaan shook his head. “I’m sorry Chrys.  We’ve seen no sign of them.”

“Ok, we keep looking then. You three are welcome to continue on to my manor house.  The trail should become more accessible from now with parts of it paved.  I am sorry for your inconvenience.”

“Nonsense, my friend. We will join you for the search.  Lysa and I have been advocating for a greater alliance.  Ty-Ar-Rana is well hidden, but our scouts report orcs and humans gathering on the borders.  I don’t know how this Court of Ardor lured them, but they are fanatical in their devotion to the Dark Lord.”

Chrys blew out a long sigh, his breath streaming out in the chilly air.  “I have heard much of the same and we know that they have been using live sacrifices to gain power and loyalty.  And we are not so well hidden as you.  Fëatur put wards and glyphs along as many paths as he could.  Still, I would sleep better if we eliminated the threat altogether.”

The Three rode up to the search party and Lysa took Fëatur’s hand.  “It’s been too long, my friend,” she told him.  “Have you heard from Morelen?  I would dearly love to see her.  She’s been like a daughter to me.”

“She was…traumatized in the last battle.  I went north for a few years to be with her and I asked her to return south with me, but she…declined.  Her sense of duty is always at the forefront.”

Lysa nodded.  “I was so afraid to let her go.  I’m very glad that she is alive and otherwise unharmed.”

“She fought against a dragon, one they call Glaurung.  It is a creature of flame and terror.”

Lysa’s face softened, now full of sympathy.  “How horrid. Morgoth’s foul creatures grow yearly.”

“The dragon?  Morelen fought the dragon?” Chrys asked, his full attention now on the conversation.

Fëatur shook his head and then addressed Lysa and Chrys.  “Not by herself.  Fingon’s cavalry company wounded it and drove it off.  While she feels so much guilt over her captain being slain, she decided to remain and fight.  He was a good man.  We met during the attack on Hithlum.  Morelen will find peace with it over time.  Also, I think she has a…male companion now.  I could see it in their eyes and their actions, but she wouldn’t discuss it with me.  She seems to fit in there, for which I am happy.  I did hear that her company affectionately calls her Morelen Lindariel now .”

“Such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Lysa said.  She stroked Fëatur’s arm.  “Please, come back to us.  I miss…I miss Morelen’s singing and I miss your witty personality.  I can still hear her in the gardens, her voice rising to the Galad i Silivren, The Light of the Silver Stars.  I wish it will be, one day, as it was.”  Her voice was full of nostalgia.

Chrys turned his horse and pointed ahead.  “Come my friends, let us go back to find our other guests.  We will have warm fires, food and refreshments for you at the manor. Aelrie has prepared roast chicken, newly picked vegetables and freshly baked pies.  You’ll have clean rooms and soft beds.”

Lyrin piped up, his face in a boyish grin.  “That sounds wonderful.  I’m starving.”

Chrys smiled at him. “Aelrie makes the best roast chicken in the south.  I could eat that every day.  And Lyrin, this is my son, Laurre,” he said, pointing to his son.  “I think you two will get along nicely.  But come my friends, we must find our allies.”

“Did I hear you talking about Morelen?” Lyrin asked.  “I do miss her so.”

Fëatur nodded.  “She decided to remain in the north for now.  I’m trying to talk her into a visit home soon. She does seem to enjoy the serenity of the gardens of Nargothrond.”  He then lifted his finger in the air and a light appeared at the tip.  He blew a puff of air onto the ball of light and it shot forward down the trail.  Though the elves could see well in the dark, any light in this downpour would be helpful. They traveled in a fast walk, hooves splashing into the ponding water.  “I’ll be lead rider,” Fëatur said and eased his horse forward.

Chrys looked over to Lyaan and Lysa.  “You don’t know how glad we are to become allies.  We have no idea where the Court of Ardor is building its holds and I fear that we will all be in for a nasty surprise.”

Lysa nodded.  “I have seen this.  We know what they are planning and time is on their side.  I fear that my visions are more cloudy as the power of Morgoth grows in the south.”

“I, too, am glad for this alliance, Chrys,” Lyaan said in agreement.  “Ty-Ar-Rana has good defenses, but the surrounding villages are wide open.  We formed a community with the Silvan Elves and just want to live in peace.  We cannot survive without allies.  I only wish that the Starseer Enclave and the Luingon Federation felt the same way.”

Chrys pursed his lips, concerned.  “While you and I have been friends for a while, I know very little about these groups other than their existence.  I wanted everyone in the south to have a seat at the table.  We must all combine our strength in the coming days.”

“The Starseers watch the skies for signs and portents from Varda.  They are not…people of action.  They would be content telling us of the horrors to come rather than doing anything about it,” Lyrin said bluntly.  “Still, their advice and wisdom would be powerful.  And the Luingon Federation…is anything but a federation. It’s basically a mercantile guild established by the Avari here.  They are more concerned with trade than any threat from Morgoth.  Chrys, I have to express great admiration for you in convincing these groups to even attend.”

Chrys smiled, feeling good at the compliment.  It was quite a test of his patience to bring everyone together.  “I appreciate that.  You don’t know the half of it.  I have to give great credit to Aelrie.  She is the true diplomat in all of this.”

“Well, we are on board and will do all that we can to seal this alliance,” Lyaan said.  “Wait, I think I see the Enclave members.”

Chrys gazed through the rain and saw two elves standing in the mud, waving at them.  He rode forward and raised his hand.  “Ho!  Elvëon? Is that you?”  He could see that they were both Noldor with dark hair and were dressed in robes of black and silver, now saturated with rain.

“Ho!  Chrys!  Yes, it’s me. This is my associate Arcamo and back there are Manyaro and Ingolmien.  We are loremasters and seers, not rangers.  Thank the Valar you have come, but why have our meeting in such foul weather?” The seer wrang his hood out, letting water pour from the soaked cloth.  He was rather plump and plain for an elf and his skin was pale from the time that he spent looking at stars and deciphering portents in dark rooms.

“How are your horses?” Chrys asked.  “And I apologize for the weather.  Time is now urgent.  The Court of Ardor grows and they will unleash horrors if they are allowed to succeed.”

“I think our horses are rested now.  We can proceed.  And we have seen snippets of the darkness that is growing.  If not for that, I would never have agreed to this meeting.” Elvëon looked back and whispered a word into the wind.  In another minute two other Noldor rode up, one male and one female, with two more horses.

Chris pointed to his guard. “Ruston, escort the Enclave back to the manor house.  Make sure that they given dry clothes and hot food.”

“Very good, my lord,” the guard said and then wheeled his horse.  He motioned to Elvëon.  “Follow me, please.”

Elvëon mounted up on his horse and bowed.  “Thank you Chrys.  Wait, you’re not coming with us?”

Chrys shook his head. “The Luingon Federation delegates are still out there.  Have you seen or heard from them at all?”

The seer’s mouth dropped open and he narrowed his eyes.  “I thought they were already at the manor house.  Naeve was very hesitant to make the journey, but they had a two-day head start on us.”

This made Chrys feel sick. Something had happened.  A dark expression came over his face and he narrowed his eyes.  “Ruston, Elvëon, please make haste to the house.  We’ll find the Federation.”

Fëatur lit another wisp and blew it in the direction of the house.  “Follow this.  It will guide you.”  As the light floated down the trail, Ruston waved the members of the Enclave along and they started down the trail.  As they turned their horses to continue, Fëatur raised his hand.  “One of my wards went off.  Something is out there.”

Chrys looked to Fëatur and Laurre.  “I have a bad feeling about this.  Stay sharp,” he said as he unlatched the clasp on his scabbard.  They rode on through the mud and Chrys wiped the rain from his eyes yet again.  He thought he saw a movement in the trees.  He held up his hand and began to dismount, putting his hand on the hilt of Kirlhach.  Suddenly, Fëatur stepped in front of him and waved his hand in a circle, creating a glowing sphere.  Two arrows that were aimed at Chrys’ heart glanced off of the sphere, which then vanished in a puff of mist.

Chrys ran to a nearby tree, followed by Laurre.  He could see the Three dismounting and moving for cover on the other side of the trail. Lysa swatted an arrow out of the air and caught another arrow with her open hand.  She was truly impressive.  Fëatur huddled down behind Chrys, who glanced back.  “This is becoming a habit,” he told the illusionist.  “I am in your debt.”

Fëatur poked his head out from around a tree trunk and sent a pulse of energy out from his hand. “There are more than twenty,” he announced.  “Not orcs…I think these are humans.”

“Humans?” Laurre asked. “You mean the Secondborn?  Why are they attacking us?”

Chrys looked to his son. “Morgoth has a way of corrupting people and we know that he is actively pursuing human tribes to join him.  He did it to the elves too.”  He glanced briefly at Fëatur, who nodded.  “Can you give us some cover?” he asked the illusionist.

Fëatur held his hands together and quiet voices emanated from the space between his palms and he blew the ball of energy in the direction of their attackers.  In another moment, shouting could be heard from a distance.  It sounded like a force of elves yelling orders.  “They’re distracted.  Go now!”

Chrys waved the Three forward and then looked at Laurre.  “Stay with me.”  They rushed forward, dodging between trees and leaping over puddles of mud.  He knew that the rain would be in their favor. It would mask their approach and elves naturally saw and heard better in poor conditions.  He kept low and kept his sword sheathed, knowing that the flames from Kirlhach’s blade would give him away.  He saw some movement just ahead beyond the bushes and glanced back to make sure Laurre and Fëatur were right behind him.  They nodded back at him and he burst forward through the foliage. He saw two humans looking back at the illusory voices and he drew Kirlhach in a small arc, slicing the man from hip to neck, the rain sizzling on his blade.  Laurre drove the tip of his sword through the other man at the chest.  They could now hear fighting on the other side of the road.

“Keep moving,” Chrys called softly.  “We have the advantage.”  They rushed into another pool of mud and found men ready this time.  Two rushed at each of them and Chrys took a defensive stance, his sword held sideways across his body.  He parried the first attack and let the momentum carry his blade towards the second man.  To his surprise, he was parried as well.  These men had some training.  The second man bound his blade to give the first an opening.  Chrys’ eyes widened in surprise at such coordination.  Training took over and he drew his dagger in a flash and flung it into the throat of the first man.  That human stumbled back a couple of steps, dropped his sword and held his throat.  The second human hesitated, looking at his comrade.  It was just the time that Chrys needed and he slipped his blade under the bind and dragged the tip across the man’s eyes.  Blood sizzled and the man screamed, falling to his knees.

Chrys turned to see Laurre still engaged with his two attackers, retreating through the mud, step by step.  This was not a battle for honor.  Chrys cut down one man’s back, lighting him on fire in spite of the rain.  The man sizzled and steam flowed up from the flames as he collapsed face first into the mud, flailing weakly.  Laurre then thrust his blade into the other man’s gut, twisting the sword for maximum effect.  As the human collapsed to the ground, Fëatur made two quick stabs with his kynac, both attacks finding throats.

Then, all was quiet but for the rain and hoots of jungle birds.  “Lyaan!  We are clear over here!” Chrys called out.

“We are clear over here as well,” Lyaan replied and Chrys blew out a sigh of relief.  He looked to his son and Fëatur to see if they were injured.

“I’m good, father,” Laurre said and Chrys felt a certain pride that his son had done well in his first battle.

They gathered back with the Three on the trail.  “These humans were trained and were no savage orcs,” Chrys said.  “They showed coordination and their weapons were superior. They have to be agents of the Court.”

Lysa nodded.  “I agree.  Their clothing and armor suggest Court influence.  And where is the Luingon Federation?”

Chrys’ eyes widened in horror.  “Oh no. Everyone, be on your guard. Spread out and look for anyone in the Federation.  We’ll call out at regular intervals and shout if you’re attacked.”  The group split and within a minute Chrys found an elven woman, lying face down in a pool of mud.  “I found someone!” he called out.  Lyaan and Lysa came first.  They looked down as Chrys rolled her over.  Her eyes were frozen open and her throat had been cut.  Chrys’s hands shook with rage.  “Savages!  These were merchants and scholars, people of learning.  They were barely armed!”

Lysa knelt down and cradled the dead woman’s head.  “This is Naeve, head of the Federation.  Oh no, this is a horror.  I am so sorry.”

Lyaan bowed his head. “Chrys, I hate to say this, but only our four groups knew of the meeting and of the route.  I fear that we may have a traitor in our midst.”

Just then, Fëatur and Lyrin called out.  “We have more bodies!  I think this is the whole Federation.”

Chrys carried Naeve out of the mud and lay her against a tree.  Then, he ran to the others and 19 butchered elves strewn about in the mud as if they were garbage.  He wanted to cry out in rage, but he knew that more of the enemy could be about and he bit the back of his hand instead.  “The Court will pay for this,” he said with teeth gritted, focusing all of his fury. 

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Chapter End Notes

I want to showcase the personalities and dynamics of the possible alliance.