The Court of Ardor by AliceNWonder000137  

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Infiltrating the Alliance - Part 2

Rilia pushes for more intelligence on the Alliance and uses any means to get it.  More backstory on her character.  Warning for some sensuality.

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40)  Infiltrating the Guild Part 2 - Year of the Sun 492 Nórui (June)

 

Rilia

The ladies of The Court settled into a routine over the next two days, helping with castle chores, doing more than was needed, showing talent in organization and magic as well as exploring Kirnak.  They showed honest effort in helping around the keep.  They were getting noticed by the staff as people who could get things done, people full of fire and energy.  The work was mostly drudgery, but Rilia found some solace in performing the tasks.  Her mind wandered back to Valinor, learning from the Vala, Nessa.  Nessa was full of life and energy, called The Dancer, and Rilia basked in that radiance, doing whatever it took to be in her light, cleaning and organizing.  Then, she met Arien, a servant of Vána, the wife of Oromë.  Arien was brilliant, a flame of passion and Rilia was enamored.  The Maia was tall, ethereally beautiful with fiery red hair like hers and eyes so bright that one could barely look into them.  She learned all that she could about fire and the control of essence from the Maia.  Soon, she could not be burned by all but the hottest of infernos.  The power filled her soul and ignited her imagination.

In her passion and beauty, she found the attention of men and some women.  She realized that there was power in being pursued and she relished it. Drama soon followed as people vied for her attention, but this was a good thing, something she found exciting. And Arien did not seem to mind her indiscretions.  The Maia understood desire and power.  It was a narcotic.

Then came Melkor.  The recalcitrant Vala, who almost held more power than all of the other Valar combined.  She knew her history and the Battle of Powers that reshaped the world.  She knew that he had been imprisoned in the Halls of Mandos for three ages for his crimes.  Somehow, Manwë decided to release the Vala.  But now Melkor’s words were nectar, soft, sweet, promising the power that the Noldor desired.  “The Valar are stifling your destiny…your energy…your passion,” he told her.  It was true.  Whenever she wanted more from the Valar, it was always, “be patient. Wait.”  The fire in her heart could no longer wait.  Ardana soon came to the forefront of those who learned at Melkor’s feet.  She had a cold brilliance that none could deny, her mind quicker than most with personal insight that shined like the stars she adored.  Before long, Melkor swept them back to Middle Earth to his fortress of Angband to begin a new world, one of power and domination as they were destined for.  It was to be a golden age.

Rilia sighed heavily as she polished a wooden picture frame.  Despite the power she wielded, things were becoming increasingly complex. There was a comfort in simplicity at times, and she refocused on the frame, pushing her oiled rag into the crevices of the wood, ensuring that a shine came to the surface.  If she were not who she was, this would be a good life.

Her attention was caught by a commotion in the rotunda.  The staff were abuzz with news that a delegation from the Alliance would be visiting shortly to negotiate a formal treaty.  She listened to the conversations that erupted nearby.  This would create a new and peaceful land in which all of the free peoples could prosper.  Taaliraan would be an equal member of The Alliance.  Representatives of The Guild of Element, The Three and The Enclave would be there.  People began to put up banners and streamers for decoration in the rotunda.  Music wafted down from the upper levels, notes of hope, looking for a better future.  If only they would bow to The Court, they would have it.

Pathanar approached the women in their room, all smiles.  “I have good news, though I’m sure you’ve already heard part of it. Members of the Alliance are on their way to Kirnak.  They should be here in a day or so,” Pathanar told them.  Rilia noticed that he was alone, a good sign that he could be coopted without the interference of the others.  “I forwarded your request to the Royal Council, and they will consider it. I feel good about it though.”

Fairië snuggled up to his chest.  “You’ve been such a wonderful host.  We have no way to properly thank you.  We came with the clothes on our backs, fleeing from the north and you took us in like kin.”

Pathanar grinned. “It has been my pleasure,” he said, spreading his hands wide.  “Like you, I lived in the north in Hithlum.  So many of us were displaced after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.  There were a few who wished to leave after Fingolfin fell, but we were committed to stand with Fingon.  After Fingon was slain, we fled to the Falas.  A number of our learned members knew that there were friendly settlements in the south, and we came here.  We have not been disappointed.  We have found peace and friendship in this strange, humid land.” His face was full of pride over their accomplishments with a hint of sadness over the past.  He pointed towards the white marble staircases that led to the towers and the royal halls, and they followed him further into the central rotunda.  “The layout and social structure of Kirnak is designed to be more egalitarian than kingdoms in the north.  Like the north, we have a sense of community where everyone contributes to the whole, but we try to take it to a whole new level,” he said, pointing out art and sculptures in the area.  “The Queen created some of the pieces that you see here.  And note how the keep is situated within the realm.”  The structure was central to Kirnak, but it was well interconnected with the rest of the city and did not sit so elevated over the people. “The keep is open with few restrictions on the residents, and the King speaks freely and openly with the people, a first among equals rather than a true ruler.”

Rilia thought for a moment, unsure of whether to see this as pathetic or noble.  It would require further thought.  As long as it didn’t interfere with her place in society, she really shouldn’t care.

They walked across elaborate and well-made carpets, expertly woven with images of the north; The River Sirion, Nargothrond, the Falas and other depictions of elven life. Magical lanterns lit the rotunda where shopkeepers would soon take over for the business day when the sun rose. Kirnak was an orderly and well-run castle.

Fairië took Pathanar’s hand.  “Please, please let us know when you can,” she said and then pointed to shops that were starting to open.  “We should get some things to decorate our room, and we’ll need clothes for the reception. Please excuse us, Pathanar.  We would dearly love to see you again soon.” She walked off as Rilia gauged the steward’s reaction and she gave a satisfied smile as he watched Fairië glide away.  Rilia bowed to him as she went to join the others.  Sunlight began to stream through the windows, and the marketplace soon became lively in a calm, elven sort of way with quiet greetings and curt bows. Bargaining was polite and reserved with fair prices always negotiated for both sides.  It was the type of order that Rilia preferred.  She put some ideas in the back of her mind for later.  Prosperity for her lands was important to her.  She was not a tyrant, after all.  The drab domination of Angband was not something she wished to recreate.  She wanted happy people…who all served her.

They decorated their room with the finely crafted items from the market, carefully placing them to their taste.  It actually began to feel like home in a strange way.  Rilia missed the power of her domain, the ease in which she manipulated essence, the respect and devotion of her followers, but this was different and not unpleasant.  The people here were friendly and respectful.  The fire in her heart felt…cooler.  She looked out of the window of their room into the night sky, gazing at the moon.  She thought of the Maia, Tillion, who sailed the great vessel.  Legend said that he loved the Arien, who sailed the sun.  He tried to go to her, to profess his love, but the heat of the sun scorched his vessel, and he was forced to retreat.  To this day, the moon flew an erratic course, sometimes seen and sometimes unseen, sometimes in the same sky as the sun, trying to approach Arien again.

She raised her finger skywards.  “I’m not the same star lover that Ardana is,” she began to say to the other women, “but I appreciate the tales.  It is said that even our lord Morgoth desired beautiful Arien and sought to ravish her…claim her as his own.  In her own immense power, she was tempted, but she…remained steadfast and rejected him, fighting him off…so I’ve heard, but others say that she was violated.  It is said that she possesses the strength of many balrogs, so I believe that she repulsed him.  I can only imagine such power…such command of flame,” she added with pure wonder. “I would die before I allowed such a thing to happen, no matter who it was attacking me, Morgoth included.” She turned to face the others, a faraway look in her eyes.  She knew that her followers were not so fortunate to have seen Valinor or the Trees.  She took a breath and continued, her audience enraptured by the tale.  “So, Arien accepted the role of Guardian of Anar, the sun, which we Noldor call Vása and she underwent the Tanyasalpë, the purifying bath of flame.  There is a great basin in Valinor that consists of walls of gold and bronze with an encircling arcade of great golden pillars, topped with the essence of the Flame Eternal.  It was there that Yavanna set a great and nameless spell upon the basin and poured the nectar of the fruit of the trees upon it, which burst into an inferno of unimaginable heat.  Arien entered the purifying bath and became a naked fire, her spirit given to the passion of flame.”  Rilia’s admiration was obvious.  It would be her life’s dream to be purified by the Tanyasalpë and be a spirit of fire. Alas, but for the Ban of the Valar brought about by Fëanor and his foolish sons.  She could not return to Valinor.

Rilia shed her clothing in imitation of the purifying flame and her body glowed orange for a moment as fire flickered around her form.  She gasped as if in ecstasy, closing her eyes as the heat died away, replaced by the cool night breeze, prickling her skin.  Her breath shuddered as a smile spread across her lips.  “Mmmm, come, my ladies, we should get some rest.  The Alliance delegation will be here tomorrow.  We should greet them properly.”  Her feet glided over the hardwood floors to the bed, and she slid between the silken sheets, cool to the touch.  Sirnaur went to her own bed, but the others lay beside Rilia, arms and legs intertwined.  The Sorceress kissed the bard and the assassin and then drifted off into blissful meditation.

Dawn broke and they awoke with a sense of excitement.  Rilia stretched and then rushed to the window to see the sun rising.  Arien was just starting to climb into the sky once more. She inhaled deeply as Fairië and Ramarë came up to her from behind and wrapped their arms around her waist.  She looked down onto the streets where the people were abuzz.  Soldiers began to line the wide avenue leading from the main gate to the keep as people strung decorations and streamers from lamp posts.  The Alliance delegation must be approaching.  Rilia noticed a letter had been pushed under the door.  She quickly opened it and read it aloud.

“My ladies, I am pleased to tell you that you have been included in the reception for the Alliance delegation.  Please come down and meet with the stewards this morning at your earliest convenience and they will go over the protocol with you.  Outside your door is clothing for the reception.  I am looking forward to seeing you again.  Eldanar.”

Fairië had already pulled the box in from the hall and opened it to show luxurious silk robes in shades of reds, yellows and oranges.  She handed them out and Sirnaur went behind a partition to change out of her night clothes. Rilia rolled her eyes and held her robes up over her bare body, admiring her slender figure in a mirror.  “Ah, the king is so kind,” she said.  “Come, let us learn more about the members of the Alliance.  We know what to do to get close to them and find the location of their holds.”  She sighed and then reluctantly put the robes on.

They ran down the steps where they saw the stewards, who were organizing the reception. Decorations and banners had already been placed in the rotunda, and the marketplace would be closed for the day. Pathanar, Aphredil and Mithiel waved to them.  “Over here, ladies!” Pathanar called, summoning them over.  “Ah, this is fortuitous.  The King informed us that you may attend the reception for the Alliance. We will be greeting them in the courtyard.  The function will take place on the upper levels of the keep, but we will have a formal introduction here in the rotunda.”

The ladies clapped, practically squealing in joy.  “This is so wonderful,” Rilia said, her amber eyes wide and innocent.  Musicians began to play, tuning instruments and clearing throats as others put the finishing touches on banners and streamers in the rotunda.  It was to be an auspicious day.  Pathanar gestured towards the open gate to the keep.  Crowds had already gathered outside, men, women and children, all dressed in their finest.  Happy, hopeful faces were everywhere, each person wishing for a better future, free of war and destruction.  Rilia had to admit that it was a noble goal…only it should be under the guidance of The Court with her in a leadership position.  If that were the case, maybe an arrangement could be made.  Perhaps then, the destruction of the sun and moon would not be necessary.  She struggled with the idea behind the death of Arien, her idol.  No, she needed to stay the course for Ardana.  In darkness, these people would beg for guidance and leadership.

Horns sounded, playing a melodious tune, heralding the arrival of the delegation and voices in the rotunda went silent.  All eyes went to the entrance to the keep.  Pathanar swung his arm towards the gate.  “It sounds like the delegation has arrived in the city.  Come, the king and his family will be waiting.”

Rilia narrowed an eye. “I didn’t know that the king had a family.”  This could complicate things.  She had hoped to work on someone who was single.  She would need to learn more.  “His family must be lovely,” she said, hiding her concern.

“They most definitely are,” he said glowingly.  “The King’s wife, Tathriel, is kind and gentle and the people love her.  His son, Prince Tarador, is a strapping young man, learning and following in the King’s footsteps.  And, they have a daughter on the way too.  Such a lovely family.  Simply lovely.”

Rilia forced a smile. “Yes, absolutely lovely.”  They went through the gate into the grand courtyard that was ringed in manicured gardens, overflowing with bright and fragrant flowers.  Petals floated on the breeze as their hair fluttered.  A pavilion had been erected for the greeting, and the King and his family sat there under a colorful awning that shaded the area.

Eldanar smiled when he saw them and gestured them over.  He was dressed in golden robes that were woven with hues of red and silver, reminiscent of the Two Trees.  A simple crown of laurel was upon his brow.  He sat with many other dignitaries and citizens of Taaliraan, all dressed in elven finery.  Banners and streamers blew in the wind, and the people waved the flags of the kingdom. The King stood and greeted them. “Welcome, my new friends.  I would like to introduce you to the Queen, Tathriel and my son, Tarador,” he said, gesturing to them.  The ladies bowed deeply.  The Queen was radiant, her cheeks rosy.  She wore blue and silver robes that shimmered in the light.  A simple but elegant strand of mithril, woven into geometric patterns, was on her brow beneath her deep brown hair.  Their son was a young adolescent, fresh faced and innocent with black hair parted in the middle.  He barely noticed the ladies, so intent was he on the arrival. The King gestured to seats a few rows back.  “Please, make yourselves comfortable.  The delegation should be here shortly.”

They took their seats and could see a procession approaching, banners of The Alliance held high. Rilia craned her neck to get a better view, her eyes scanning.  Leading the way was The Guild of Elements, their sigil a pentagon with the symbols of fire, water, earth, air and light at each junction.  At the head of that group was a tall, blonde elf who must be Chrys Menelrana.  Next came The Three, led by that fool Lyaan, his wife and that man boy of a son along with some young acolytes.  They bore no banners, simple people that they were.  The Enclave appeared to be a scholarly group in hooded robes and staves.  They were known to be some of the greatest minds in the south.  Their banner was a field of stars that surrounded a single, bright star.  If all went well, they would soon be working for The Court…or dead.

Excitement grew as they walked up to the pavilion.  Eldanar and his family stood, along with the herald, Celumener, who blew his horn and then bowed to the delegation.  “We welcome the delegates of The Alliance to our fair city of Kirnak,” he said aloud so that all in the courtyard could hear.  He bowed deeply and then gestured to the Royal Family.  “I would like to introduce King Eldanar, Queen Tathriel and Prince Tarador.”

Bows were exchanged and the blond elf extended his hand, which Eldanar took.  “It’s good to see you again, Chrys,” the King said with a smile. To see Chrys Menelrana this close was difficult for Rilia.  He was the champion of her enemy...the enemy of all of their goals and dreams.  He brought his family with him too, his wife and son.  His son, introduced as Laurre Menelrana, was the image of a High Elf lord, but his wife…his wife was a mere Silvan Elf.  Chrys was no better than that empty-headed Castolder with his human wife, who would age and die in just a few decades.  Next came The Three, Lyaan, Lysa and Lyrin.  She studied their faces closely, ensuring that she could remember them. She saw Fairië fidget for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” Rilia asked.

“That one…Lyaan’s son…he looks familiar, but I can’t place it.”

The Enclave came next, a bunch of astrologers and philosophers, much like Ardana’s inner circle. Celumener blew another blast of his horn and the King and people bowed to their guests.  Entertainers then filled the courtyard, singing, dancing and playing instruments to fill the area with radiant sound.  Songs in praise of Valinor and the glories of the elven lands rose throughout the city.  Ramarë seemed unimpressed.  This was her area of expertise, and she excelled as a bard.  “I could do much better,” she muttered.

Rilia smiled vacantly. She knew this to be true.  Ramarë was one of the finest bards that she had ever known other than Maglor.  Still, she enjoyed the performance, just taking in the sights and sounds and studying the members of the Alliance, their looks, their habits and their preferences. How could she exploit this?  As they spoke with the King and his family, she began to see patterns.  Chrys had a bold, but humble personality.  He valued leading by example and was open about his mistakes and actively tried to correct them.  The other members of the Guild were as varied as could be, from dour to lively. Lyaan and Lysa were reserved and almost monastic in their outlook.  They preferred lives of quiet reflection, except for the son, Lyrin.  There was a boyish immaturity to him and a fire that seemed on the verge of exploding.  This could be exploited.  The next question was how to get close to these people.

When the performances had concluded, there was cheering and applause in a polite, controlled elven manner. The King and his guests stood and Celumener and the stewards led the procession to the keep.  Rilia and the others moved in closer to be able to get a better view, perhaps even interact with the guests.  She tapped the King on the shoulder and bowed when he turned.  “My good king, thank you for allowing us to participate in this ceremony.  We are so honored to be here after such a long journey from the north.”

He smiled as she took his hand and touched her forehead to it, letting her red hair fall over his arm. “I am glad you could attend, Celestë. This is a proud moment for all of Taaliraan and the south.  Come, let us head to the Rotunda for the reception.  There will be refreshments and more entertainment,” he said as he wrapped his arms around his wife and son.  There was a joy in his face that was undeniable.  Rilia began to doubt that he could be…seduced.  Surely there would be other avenues to success.

As they made their way to the rotunda, Rilia and the women mingled among the Alliance members and their entourage.  Chrys marveled at the city and the keep.  “I am reminded of fair Vinyamar,” he said of Turgon’s first city on the coast of Nevrast. “White walls and wide avenues with magnificent gates.  You have truly brought the splendor of the north to us, Eldanar.  It is good to have more kin amongst us.”

The King clapped him on the back.  “You are the image of your cousin, Finrod.  He was a great man and is truly missed.  His valor and sacrifice will never be forgotten.”

Chrys gave him a warm smile, nodding his head.  There was pride, but a deep sense of sadness in his expression.  He gestured for his wife, Aelrie, her sister Miriani and Laurre to go ahead as he spoke quietly with Eldanar.  Rilia worked her way through the crowd to get a better view of the family.  The jostling among people was quite annoying.  In Naurlindol and other Court holds, everyone moved for her.  Even the inner circle gave her a wide berth when she demanded it, such was her power in essence.  She closed her eyes and took a breath.  This would take more patience than she feared she had.  The Lady of Staves, Sirnaur, put her hand on her leader’s shoulder and nodded, a comforting gesture.  Sirnaur was a quiet woman of infinite patience, something Rilia lacked.  She might have been better suited to work for Fëatur with her demeanor.  They pushed forward to where Aelrie and Miriani were chatting with Tathriel as Laurre joked with young Tarador.  She looked for an angle, a way in to get to know these people and ferret out any weakness. She towered over the two Silvan women, smug in her superiority.  Silvans were generally servants, tools for her use.  She moved on to get closer to The Three.

As the entered the rotunda, Lyaan moved with the grace and skill of a man well versed in close combat. His arms were folded into the opposite sleeves, and he had an inscrutable expression that was difficult to discern.  Lysa was the same way, serene and wise, nothing more than a faint smile on her lips. Their auburn hair put them in the House of Fëanor as Rilia was.  Passion, fire and creativity defined that house so it was perplexing that they were so…peaceful.  Lyrin was another story, eyes wandering, gazing at all of the sights of a city.  He was in the company of two Noldorin men and one Sindarin woman, obviously friends.  By their behavior and words, Rilia knew them to be young…perhaps even immature.  This was the weak point.  This was where she would dig.

She signaled for the other women to hang back.  There was something about what Fairië said about Lyrin gave her pause.  Fairië was already hanging on Pathanar so Rilia needn’t worry.  The Sorceress moved in close to the four young elves and put on her best youthful act, even though that time was eons ago.  There was a brief flash of memory back to when she was a young girl, waiting on the shores of Middle Earth to journey to Valinor.  She summoned the same feeling, a sense of wonder and innocence.

“Hello!” she said breathlessly.  “I…I…you are with the Alliance, are you not?  Are we safe with you?  I’ve heard so many things.”  Her amber eyes were wide with awe.  She reached out her hand to touch one of Lyrin’s friends.  “I can’t believe that you’re really here!”  She let out an excited squeak.

The one young man smirked. “We get that all of the time,” he quipped, seemingly full of himself.  “I am Anuven and my friends, Edenor, Caladiel and Lyrin.”

Rillia opened her red lips wide.  “Oh, I…I…I am so honored.  We’ve been…been waiting for this moment for so, so long.”  She brushed his white robes with her fingertips.  “Oh my.  You are real,” she said with a gasp.

Anuven chuckled and blushed.  “Why yes, my lady, I am certainly real,” he said as he thumped his chest with both hands. This was going to be much easier than working on Eldanar or Chrys and his family.  “And may we know your name?”

She tapped her breast. “I…I am Celestë.  I work in the rotunda here, cleaning and organizing.  It’s good work.  I want to…I want to help.  May I stand with you during the ceremony?”

The men glanced at each other and grinned.  “Why of course, dear Celestë,” Edenor said.

Caladiel glanced at Rilia sideways, narrowing her eyes.  “There’s a light within you that seems…  It seems like you’re older than you sound,” she said, thinking.

Rilia realized that it was the light of Valinor that shone within her.  She was one of the Eldar, those elves who crossed the sea to the Blessed Realm and stood beneath the light of the Two Trees.  She needed to deflect.  She held her hands over her heart.  “Oh…I…I get that a lot.  We…we fled from the north after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.  How horrible it was.  Simply horrible.  I served in the House of Fëanor.  Though I was nobody, I learned some things from his sons.  A…a light…a fire grew within me to grow and be of service.”

Anuven gave Caladiel a skeptical look.  “What? Celestë looks younger than we are. Of course, we elves usually look young forever,” he said with a chuckle.  “Come, the ceremony is starting.”  Caladiel looked down and said no more about it.

Singers ran out into the middle of the rotunda in perfect, practiced coordination as instruments began a low hum.  Voices then called out softly at first, rising in pitch and volume.  It was as if the music of the heavens had opened up and flowed through the marble halls and pillars, filling the souls of the people with hope and majesty.  Even Rilia was awed, mouth open.  The very song held power and images of the Gardens of Lorien floated above their heads and the scent of flowers filled their nostrils.  Rilia blinked hard and her eyes misted.  It was…it was like being home.  She could see Nessa’s kind face before her, reaching out.  Then, the song ended, the vision faded and Rilia’s body trembled. 

“Are you alright?” Lyrin asked her.  The other men touched her arm in support.

“I am…I…it was just so beautiful.  I could only imagine being there and seeing all of those wonderous sights.”

“We were all born here after the rising of the sun and moon,” Caladiel told her.  “It would have been so beautiful to see.”

On the central podium, Eldanar stood with Chrys, and they raised their hands together to cheers.  “This concludes the greeting ceremony!” the King called out, a wide grin on his face.  “We will retire to the Council Chambers to finish the details of this historic alliance. Please be well and enjoy the day!” He and Tathriel went with his counselors along with The Guild, Lyaan and Lysa and The Enclave to finalize the treaty.

Lyrin shrugged.  “I guess I don’t merit attendance at that party,” he said with a hint of a cloud over his words.

Anuven smirked. “Well, that just gives us time to tour the city,” he said in consolation.  He then gave Lyrin a fake body blow and the three men began a mock battle, punching, blocking and dodging while laughing out loud.  He looked at Rilia.  “Don’t mind us.  It’s just a-”

“Childish thing,” Caladiel finished.

Rilia gave them an understanding smile.  “It’s quite alright.  I’m very young myself,” she lied.  Well, compared to the Ainur, it was true so she could justify her answer.  “I haven’t been here long, coming from the north, but I have had the chance to explore.  I would honored to be your guide today.”

Edenor raised an eyebrow with a grin.  “We’d love that.  Please, lead on.”

Rilia glanced back into the crowd and made eye contact with her comrades and nodded.  They knew to return to their quarters and to change their appearances, just in case Lyrin knew them from somewhere.  Fairië gave her a wink, letting her know that things were going well with Pathanar.  They would rejoin her soon in a “chance” encounter.  It was something that the assassin and the bard excelled at.

She turned back to her new friends.  “Oh, I’m so excited.  Follow me!” she exclaimed and began skipping over the lush carpet of the rotunda.  The three men exchanged glances and smiled at some inside joke while Caladiel followed silently.  “The market here is closed today because of the ceremony but there is another market further down.  Trade with dwarven and human settlements has brought in some very interesting items and the food there is superb.”  She pointed down the wide main avenue that was beginning to clear out of people who were heading back to their homes and shops.  “There is a kiosk that serves the most excellent crab cakes, fresh from the bay nearby.  I would highly recommend them,” she said, taking Anuven and Edenor by the arms and leading them along.

They walked along the avenue, past cozy cottages and homes that blended seamlessly into parks and greenery.  Flowering bushes lined the walkways with magical lampposts dotting the roads.  Arriving at the market, Rilia inhaled the scent of various foods and vendors.  Fresh fruit and vegetables waited for buyers while other kiosks cooked and baked.  The smell of baked bread wafted past them, and she realized that she was hungry.  She picked up a cinnamon loaf and put a few copper coins into the hand of the vendor.  “I really love these,” she gushed.  “Come, the crab cakes are this way.”  She led them into the restaurant and saw two of her friends, already seated.  She feigned surprise.  “Oh, Karya and Allisa!  What brings you here?” she asked.  Their hair and makeup was different, concealing their true identities.

The bard stood, mouth agape.  “Celestë! We did not expect to see you here. Please, have a seat.  We just ordered.”  The restaurant was a quiet, serene place with polite, reserved guests in the manner of elves.  Still, the smells of seafood more than made up for the guests.  Lobster, crab, fish and shrimp boiled, baked and fried in a kitchen nearby.  Rilia introduced her new friends, and they intermingled with the ladies.  Caladiel pursed her lips but remained quiet.

Soon, soups, salads and crab cakes were brought to the table.  It was everything that Rilia said it was.  She brought back mugs of a thick, dark, frothy brew and passed them around and then put a tiny pouch back into her pocket.  The men leaned back, patting their bellies.  “That was excellent,” Lyrin exclaimed.  “I haven’t eaten this well in a while.”  He downed another mug of the brew.  “I think this was a dwarven thing if I recall,” he said, swaying back and forth.  He pinched one eye shut and shook his head to clear it.  “You weren’t kidding at how strong this was.”

“It’s called ale, and it packs a punch, trust me,” Rilia said with a grin that spread slowly across her lips.  Lyrin and the others’ eyes looked glassy, and their words began to slur.  Ramarë and Fairië began rubbing their hands on the men’s chests.  Caladiel blinked hard, trying to focus her vision.  “You people look drunk,” Rilia cooed.  We should get you to a room.  I know of an inn nearby.  Come, we’ll make sure that you’re safe.”  She helped Lyrin to his feet and the other women did the same for Anuven and Edenor. Caladiel staggered along behind them, trying to keep up, but failing.  They went a short distance to a wooden home next door that was called, The Travelers Rest. It was a quaint establishment run by a pleasant elven couple.  Rilia gave them a silver coin, received a key and then led the group upstairs.  Many of the rooms were already taken with revelers from the ceremony.

The key opened the door and Lyrin staggered in, falling to one knee before reaching the bed.  His face and skin were red, and he had trouble focusing, blinking rapidly and then shaking his head vigorously.  “Oh, that…that ale.  I’m going to have…have to only drink that in moderation…from now on. That is.  What was I saying?”

“Rest now,” Rilia said, moving him to the bed.  She pulled his robes over his head and then tossed them on the floor.  She kissed his chest.  “I can only imagine how wonderful your home is.  Tell me about it, please.”  Her fingers stroked the back of his neck.

Anuven and Edenor needed no encouragement.  They were already all over Ramarë and Fairië.  “I was waiting for this,” Anuven said in a lusty slur.  Of the four, he was the one most self-centered and driven by youthful urges.

Lyrin inhaled deeply as Rilia’s red hair cascaded down his body.  “We…we live in Ty-Ar-Rana.  It’s a…a vast…mmmm…complex of pyramids,” he said, closing his eyes.  “Uhh, it’s a long way from here but…but-”

Anuven blurted out, “We stayed with Chrys at his manor in Tumlindë before arriving here.  It’s actually close by.”

“We’re…we’re not supposed to…,” Lyrin tried to say, but Rilia pushed him down on the bed and hushed him with her finger.

“That sounds wonderful,” Ramarë said as she straddled Anuven.  “We would love to visit them.  Can we do that?  You said it was close.”  She leaned forward and kissed his neck.

Anuven gasped. “It’s…it’s only…it’s three days…ride.”

“Mmmm, that’s close,” the assassin said.  “Will you take us there?”

“Of…of course.  It’s just-” he started when the door burst open. It was Caladiel.  Her mouth dropped for a moment before she walked in.

“Lyrin, your parents are calling for you,” she scolded.  “Get up.  We need to go,” she said, pulling on his arm while picking up his robe.  She no longer seemed drunk.

Rilia rolled off of him. “We were just having fun…celebrating. It is a joyous time, is it not?”

Caladiel’s face turned red as she looked away from their bodies.  She grunted and fumbled with Lyrin’s robes as she put them over his head. “Yes, yes, joyous.  It’s time to go, boys.  I think an agreement has been reached and you need to be there now.” She pushed Lyrin out of the door and then went to grab Anuven and Edenor.  Her jaw was taut and her eyes narrowed.

Anuven sighed.  “I wasn’t done,” he protested, reaching back for Ramarë.  “I think I love Kirnak.  The people are so warm and friendly.  I’m definitely coming back.”

Caladiel yanked him up roughly.  “I’m not dressing you,” she said with a sharp edge.  “You either, Edenor.  Come on. Don’t keep Lyaan waiting.”  She pushed them out the door and then slammed it shut.

“Not very friendly, is she,” Rilia quipped, getting a laugh from the others.  She twirled her red hair around her finger, a half-smile spreading across her wet lips.  The pursuit was exhilarating.  The chase and the game always got her heart pumping.  “Fairië, your herbal mix almost made this too easy.”

The Silvan elf smiled. “It brings out the passion in people…makes them pliable.  Though it didn’t last long in that dour wench.  Perhaps she has some resistance.  Usually, just a pinch lasts hours.”

Rilia waited a few minutes to ensure that they had gone before speaking.  “Hmmm, Chrys’ home is three days ride, huh?  I think we can rule out north of here because we came from that direction.  East is jungle and forest…perhaps, but west and south are rolling plains which would make more sense.  We’ll have our scouts begin a search.  I think it’s just a matter of time now before we find this…manor house in Tumlindë and pay Chrys a visit.”  Her white teeth shined through her ruby lips.  Though not perfect, the information was so much more than they knew.  They even had a description of Ty-Ar-Rana.

She slid her hands down her chest.  “Well, that…encounter was a bit less than satisfying.”  She beckoned the others to her.  “But this will make up for it,” she said, licking her lips.  “This has been productive, but we shouldn’t push it.  I think it’s time to return to Naurlindol.”  She lay back as Fairië pulled her shorts down.  

The bard snuggled up to Rilia and then narrowed her eyes.  “Mistress, I know where I’ve seen Lyrin and the others before.  They were in the Citadel.  I don’t know how they entered, but I’m sure of it.”  Ramarë nodded in agreement.

The Sorceress paused, racking her brain for answers.  “This is…is unexpected.  They may be as devious as we are.  Speak of this to no one.  It stays only amongst us for now...not even Ardana.  We will get to the bottom of this.  We will find this…Tumlindë and learn the secrets that those four young elves have.  What of Pathanar?”

Fairië smiled broadly, her red lips parting over white teeth.  She opened her hand.  “He sits right in my palm, mistress.”

Rilia chuckled. “This has been a good journey.  I can’t wait to return to Naurlindol to plan.” She thought back to the ceremony for a moment and the vision of Nessa’s kind face and the glory of Valinor.  She smirked, letting it fade.  They would recreate that glory here, in Middle Earth and it would be their glory.

---

Chapter End Notes

We look at Rilia's adoration of Arien.  It might be a weakness.  We see more of her amoral character and how her two court members feed into it.  Also a look at the dynamic of the people of Ty-Ar-Rana and their strengths and weaknesses.