The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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The Alliance - Part 2

Chrys and The Three forge an alliance to protect the south and to fight the forces of Morgoth.

24) Alliance, Part 2 – Year of the Sun 300 Tuilë (Spring)

Fëatur

After they buried the bodies of the Luingon Confederation, the ride back to the manor house was quiet and somber.  It was a painful task to lay to rest such good people.  Chrys even insisted on burying the humans.  It was the decent thing to do.  Fëatur really felt for Chrys.  The weight of responsibility was heavy, and he could see some cracks in the Lord of the South.  But things were just beginning.  It would get worse before it got better.  He knew how the Court functioned and the cruelty that was part of that group.  His sister tormented him for fun.  He could only imagine how she treated others.  And Ardana would murder her own son for favor from Morgoth.  She would sacrifice Moran in a dark ritual for his Vala blood.  Disgusting.  He suddenly thought of Morelen and his own blood ran cold.  If she were ever discovered, she would be at great risk.  He shook his head.  There was nothing that he could do for her here in the south. He could only hope and pray to Manwë that she would be safe.  And Yavë? How was she faring?  He had not heard anything from her in a year.  What he wouldn’t give to see her again.  These musings had been increasing over the last year and there was nothing he could do about it.

He shook off his negative thoughts and focused on the here and now.  He rode up to Chrys, his horse’s hooves splashing in the mud.  “Chrys, how are you faring?  This has been a hard blow.”

Chrys barely looked up, rainwater pouring down his forehead into his eyes.  “I’m fine, Fëatur, really.”  The tone of his voice made it clear that the conversation was at an end.

“You know that I’m here for you and the Guild.”

Chrys merely nodded.

Fëatur was at a loss and all he could say was, “I’ll leave you be then.”  He tapped his horse’s flanks and moved to catch up to the Three.

Lyaan turned back to make eye contact.  “He’s strong. He’ll come back.  And we’re here to help.  Our numbers are not great, but we are well trained.”

“I think we can count a thousand Silvan archers and light infantry,” Lyrin chimed in.  “And the jungles around Ty-Ar-Rana make for formidable defenses.”

Fëatur nodded and then scanned ahead, his hand held over his eyes.  I think I see my wisp up ahead,” he said, pointing towards the glow of a yellow light.  “The manor house shouldn’t be too far away after that.”

Then, a loud boom far off in the distance got his attention.  “What is that?”  The overcast sky and rain suddenly peeled away, leaving blue sky for miles.  The downpour lessened to a drizzle and then stopped entirely, leaving them in a humid morass of mud and ponding water.  “What devilry is this?  Only…the Ainur possess such power.  Chrys, Lyaan, we must accept that Morgoth’s power has spread to the south.”

Chrys seemed to stir and looked up with horror.  “I have made many mistakes recently.  Mistakes of complacency.  The peace that we have enjoyed in the south lulled me into complacency.  And that peace is likely at an end.  I have been sleeping.  I am…sorry,” he said and looked at Lyaan.  “I think you should lead us.  I…can’t.”

Lyaan shook his head. “Nonsense, my friend.  I am too insular.  My main focus has been on Ty-Ar-Rana.  You see the whole region.  You’ve fought the enemy in the north.  I don’t have that.  I am honored to follow you in defending our homes.”

Fëatur nodded.  “I agree.  We are more powerful together.  The fact that you have doubts about yourself speaks to your leadership. If you were too cocksure, I would truly be worried then.”  He could now see the outline of the manor house.  “We are home.  Come, let us forge this alliance and make a plan to counter the enemy.”

Elvëon, the head of the Enclave, sat upon his horse on the trail.  “I decided to wait for you, and I could not help but overhear.  Chrys, your friends are correct.  It was you who brought this group together and no one foresaw the slaughter of the Confederation.  If there is fault in that, it is mine.  We are not people of action, but we pride ourselves in seeing the portents in the stars.  We have seen the growing threat, but you woke us up to it.  I, for one, would have been glad to remain in my tower, gazing at the night sky until Morgoth destroyed me.  The Enclave will follow where you lead.”

Chrys pursed his lips and then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  “I am grateful.  The burden is overwhelming and I fear that I am not up to the task.  But your support gives me courage.  Come, let us stable our horses and dry off.  Aelrie and Miriani will have rooms and baths for everyone.  A feast has been prepared as well.  You shall not want for hospitality.”

Fëatur pointed at Chrys and held his other hand next to his mouth as if he were sharing a deep secret. “Just feed him chicken and he’ll come around.”  This got a chuckle from the gathering.  They could use a little humor about now.

They rode into the stables and put their horses in stalls, where grooms set to work on drying them and picking mud out of hooves.  Chrys patted his mount on the nose and gave him an apple.  “Thank you, Angaroco, you brought me home safely.  I am grateful.”

Fëatur was pleased that Chrys was coming around.  It was difficult to see his friend in that state of mind.  He had been there.  He knew the crushing weight of guilt and depression.  He decided to take some of the weight away.  He beckoned to the Three and the members of the Enclave. “Come, my friends.  I will show you the way to your rooms.  Leave your baggage.  We will have people retrieve that and bring it to you.  Do not worry, we are quite organized here.”  He led them into the manor house, which was a buzz with news of the arrival and the demise of the Confederation.

Aelrie and Miriani caught him in the hallway.  “The rooms and baths have been prepared and we put the food away for later,” Aelrie told him.  She grasped his arm gently.  “Thank you. Thank you for bringing them home safe.”

“Ah, I did nothing. I’m just glad to have been there for support.”

Fëatur led the guests to their rooms and announced, “Please make yourselves comfortable and make use of the baths.  We have dry clothing laid out for everyone.  Supper will be served this afternoon, but fruit and other pastries will be in your rooms along with pitchers of water and juice.  Thank you all for coming.”

Several hours passed while Fëatur meditated, dreaming of Yavë and Morelen as a happy family, at peace. In his elven mind, they were in a brightly lit glade and he was laughing and dancing with Morelen as she sang the Enyalie í Laeg, the Memory of the Green, a song about the forests of Valinor. He could see the silver willows and smell the evergreens of the gardens of Irmo and Estë.  Yavë’s face was full of joy and love and he cupped her face and gave her a kiss.  He wished that he could remain in this dream forever.  He felt a shake.

“Fëatur, it’s time. The delegates are gathering in the main hall.  It’s time.”

He opened his eyes to see Chrys, shaking him.  “Of course, my friend,” he said as he rose up off the ground.  He rubbed his eyes for a moment.  “I’m just going to wash up.  I’ll join you shortly.”

Chrys nodded.  “Take your time.  You’ve earned a rest.  I cannot do this without you.”

Fëatur patted him on the shoulder.  “And you are a better friend than I deserve.  I still have much to atone for and you have given me that opportunity. It is I who is in your debt.”

Chrys chuckled, his old self seeming to come back a little.  “Then it seems that our fates are bound together.  I’ll see you at the main hall.”

Fëatur went to the sink of his room and looked into the mirror.  He realized that he looked drawn and worn out, his eyes sunken and his cheeks gaunt.  The last few decades had taken their toll and the real fight had only just begun.  He flipped on the faucet and washed his face. He had really gotten used to running water at the manor and at Ty-Ar-Rana.  Such a small comfort, but one that stood out for him.

He donned a plain brown robe woven of cotton and his old, comfortable boots.  He was never one for ostentation or pageantry.  While his sister always coveted the limelight, he was content to work from the sidelines, ensuring the success of his friends.  He put his hands together.  “Please Mandos, give me guidance.”  He then lifted his hands.  “And Yavë, I need your wisdom.  It has been too long.”  He blew out a long breath and then left his room.

The hallway was abuzz with activity as the staff ran about, ensuring the comfort of their guests and bringing platters of food into the main hall.  Fëatur took a long whiff of the aroma and saw that there was ample enough chicken to meet Chrys’ tastes.  He hurried into the main hall.  It was like nothing he had seen in decades.  The room was alive with conversation as the delegates ate and drank. Chrys saw him enter.

“Come in, my friend. Please have a seat,” he said, warmly, motioning to a padded seat among the Guild members.  A plate had already been prepared for him along with a crystal glass full of dark red wine.  Chrys picked up his glass and tapped it several times with his fork, making a sweet ringing sound.  The room went hush and all eyes were upon him.  “Welcome honored guests and members of my house.  We gather here as friends under the growing shadow of Morgoth.  We hope that this will lead to us being united for the cause of freedom and justice.”

Fëatur raised his glass, and the members of the Guild followed.  “My friend Chrys, my mentor and my leader, has fought against the forces of darkness since the beginning.  I can personally attest that he is a man of good heart and who is the one to lead us. I fear that this is only the beginning, and we must all pool our skills and our resources to fight this.  I know,” he said with deep gravitas.  “I was a member of the enemy’s inner circle.  I gave up my life for my sins and was returned by Mandos to carry on the fight.”

Glasses were raised all around to murmurs from all of the guests.  Chrys pushed his hands down to quiet the crowd and then continued, “I first want to acknowledge the loss of our friends from the Luingon Confederation. They are a group of affiliated merchants who trade around the region.  Their contacts would have been invaluable as was their ability procure goods and supplies.  I know we would have become good friends.  I would like to take a moment of silence to honor them.”

The collective group bowed their heads until Chrys spoke again.  “My friends, next I want to honor my friend, Fëatur, who has been unwavering in his dedication to the cause.  We have voted to make him a full member of the Guild of Elements.  I don’t have a sixth element for you right now,” he said to chuckles in the group, “but we will have one for you soon.  Welcome.  It has been long overdue.”

Fëatur practically blushed. This was not something that he had expected or even asked for.  Still, he was honored.  It was the first thing that he truly felt a part of since before the death of the Two Trees.  The members of the Guild stood and raised their glass.  Even cynical Talan smiled.  “Don’t think that this will stop me from grilling you about everything.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fëatur said with a smirk.  “Now the work begins, everyone.  I will have to earn this.”

Chrys smiled warmly at his friend.  “Finally,” he began, looking back at the group, “we must forge an agreement among us that all will benefit from and will be at peace with.  We must have a name and, to honor our fallen friends, I propose, The Luingon Alliance.”  This was met by cheers.  “Good, I think it’s settled then.  My good wife, Aelrie, along with The Three, have created proposals for the rules of the alliance.  To whit, each group in the alliance shall send forces to assist in the defense of any other group.  The use of these forces shall not compromise the defense of that group.  We shall trade information, supplies and resources freely for the common good and defense of the region.”  Aelrie and Miriani passed out the parchment to the guests. “Please read and then we shall ratify the terms if they are acceptable.”

Elvëon raised his hand. “We are not soldiers.  All we have to offer is information.”

Chrys looked over from his seat.  “Information is valuable, and we gladly accept that as your part of the alliance.”

Elvëon nodded.  “It’s settled then.  The Enclave will join.”

Lyaan raised his hand too. “This was never in doubt for us. The Three and the resources of Ty-Ar-Rana are now intricately linked to this alliance.”  All of the members signed the documents and passed them to Fëatur, who stacked them together.  Lyaan then stood and gestured to Chrys.  “And this is the man who shall lead us.  He has fought in many a battle and has always triumphed.  We are fortunate to have someone so skilled and experienced to bring peace to the south.  We will stand together, and this alliance will grow.”

Fëatur sat back, pleased. This had been a long time in coming. All that he had fought and pushed for since his death was coming to fruition.  Only two things remained elusive to him: Yavë and Morelen.  If force of will were reality, they would be with him now.  He would never stop worrying about Yavë while she was in the enemy’s camp.  She could be discovered at any time and he didn’t want to think about it.  And Morelen, always brave, sometimes reckless.  These were things he couldn’t fix right now.  He turned back to the function to see people cheering and drinking toasts. Members of the Guild were patting him on the back.  If only it would last.

Chapter End Notes

A look at the dynamics of the Guild and The Three as well as moving Featur's character arc.  

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