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b2memB2MeM Prompt and Category: sailing West
13. Mostly Ulmo speaks to those who dwell in Middle-earth with voices that are heard only as the music of water. For all seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government; so that the Elves say that the spirit of Ulmo runs in all the veins of the world. (The Silmarillion, “Valaquenta”)
Format: fic
Genre: adventure
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:
Characters: Original characters, LOTRO characters
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): Well, Penthronnil’s not sailing West, but others are, so that fits…The tale of Penthronnil continues.
Summary: Penthronnil begins to do her part to aid the people of Ered Luin, beginning with the elves in Celondim, who have given her houseroom over the past month.
When the twins had gone their own way, Penthronnil found her way to her hostess, Eilian. “I have decided to remain, Mistress Eilian,” she confirmed at the elleth’s questioning look, “though I may not remain in Celondim for ever. What may I do to be of assistance to you?”
Eilian smiled. “Well, it would not be a service to me alone, but Lord Cardavor may require your assistance. Speak with him over by the piers, if you will. He seems very concerned, and from what I know of the tales of your bravery, you may be able to aid him.”
Penthronnil curtseyed to Eilian and headed northward toward the piers. She found an ellon standing alone as though lost in thought, his brow creased with worry. The thin band of gold that circled his brow identified him for her.
“My lord?” she said softly.
He started nervously, turning to face Penthronnil. “Ah, hello there. We have not had time to get acquainted. My name is Cardavor. And you are...?”
“Penthronnil, my lord Cardavor,” she replied. “Mistress Eilian suggested I might be able to help you.”
Cardavor nodded slowly. “Well met, Penthronnil. I have heard of you, and that you are well-travelled...perhaps you have seen my son Avorthal on your journeys? I received a message from him saying that he was coming from Duillond to visit, but he has not yet arrived. That is most unlike him.”
Penthronnil frowned slightly. “I do not recognise the name, my lord, but perhaps he was merely delayed?”
“Hmm…in his journeys here, he oft speaks with the travellers along the road and visits the vale of Nen Hilith with a friend of his, a dwarf named Athal. Athal watches the road and helps the few dwarf-travellers who come to Celondim. Perhaps Avorthal is speaking to him now and has simply forgotten the time. Would you seek him?” Cardavor looked at Penthonnil anxiously. She gave him a proper curtsey.
“Of course, my lord.” She knew the vale of Nen Hilith by name, and it would be easy enough to find. The difficulty would be speaking to the Dwarf, she thought as she walked along the path. She paused when Laenin hailed her.
“Did you need me, Laenin?” She eyed the Glade-watcher.
“I would ask a favour of you, seeing as Lord Cardavor has spoken with you. Our time is closing in this land. Soon we will be but legend and memory to the mortals who will remain upon these shores. While we are still here, however, we must do what we can to ensure that these lands remain safe and beautiful.
The preservation of the land is why I have come to the port of Celondim. My brethren and I have been looking into recent events in a glade to the north. I am here to enlist any willing to go there and assist us in discovering the source of an infestation of sickle-flies among the trees to the west and south-west of the port. If you are willing, remove the threat of the sickle-flies from the trees and report to Ovorlas at Nen Hilith to the south-west.”
“I am willing to do that,” Penthronnil agreed. It was where she was already going, after all. She called her bear, Saerui, to her side – Melui was of the past. Best to leave her there.
With those tasks in mind, Penthronnil left Celondim for the surrounding valley, heading in a southwesterly direction. As Laenin had feared, there were many vale-flies – insects almost as large as Penthronnil herself, when their wingspan was accounted for. Saerui rushed them, crushing their heads in before they could reach Penthronnil, though the elleth had her staff at the ready just in case. Saerui’s way was most efficient, though, and Penthronnil counted more than half a dozen struck down before they reached the camp of Nen Hilith.
There, Penthronnil spotted three Elves seated around a campfire, speaking companionably with each other. Nearby sat a Dwarf. Penthronnil was not too fond of Dwarven folk, but she had promised Lord Cardavor, and so she approached him respectfully, if somewhat warily.
“Greetings, Master Dwarf.”
“Athal at your service, Loremistress.”
Penthronnil’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I have not earned my mastery yet; still, I thank you. My name is Penthronnil. The Lord Cardavor has sent me to seek his son Avorthal. Have you seen him?”
“Nay, I am still here waiting for Avorthal. He requested I meet him here at the vale of Nen Hilith and has yet to arrive. I meant to enter the vale myself, but the elves bade me not enter and being that Avorthal is not here to speak for me I dare not risk angering them. I am sorry that I cannot be more help to you or Lord Cardavor,” Athal replied. “It is not like Avorthal to be late -- at least not without sending word -- nor to put aside his usual habits. Still, he has spent much time in contemplation in recent days. When Avorthal desires solitude for quiet thought, he spends much time beneath the white trees in this vale. Perhaps he is amongst them now, unbeknownst to anyone. Would you go there and find him? I would of course, but I shall not defy the will of the elves.”
“I understand, Master Athal,” Penthronnil said. “I will go and seek him in the vale.”
“Make your way into the vale of Nen Hilith and search for any signs of Avorthal. I pray you find him hale and hardy, but if not, perhaps you will find some sign of him -- even just his pack.”
“I will do my best, Master Athal. Can you tell me first, where is Ovorlas?” she requested. “Laenin sent me to him.” The Elf so named stood up from his place at the fire.
“Mae govannen! Laenin had you fighting back the sickle-flies? Good. It has become necessary to drive them out of the forest, lest they kill the trees. Your aid will be welcome here, Penthronnil, for there is much to do.”
“I will do my best to aid you,” Penthronnil said, “as will Saerui,” she added. The brown bear snuffled Ovorlas’ hand as he reached out to her.
“You have Laenin’s gratitude, and mine, to be sure.” Ovorlas gave her staff a doubtful look; it had seen her through the journey from Imladris and her stay in Celondim, but it had become much worn in that time. “Take this staff – a gift from Laenin – and may it aid you well.”
Penthronnil took the staff, thanking Ovorlas. “Then I will leave this one with you. It was a gift from Lord Elrond; I imagine it is my fault it wore out so swiftly.”
“Nay, Penthronnil! For songs are sung of your stand against the Witch-king an Age past; doubtless the battle left you greatly weakened, but now you are regaining your power once more. As your abilities return, you will need more powerful weapons to match them,” Ovorlas explained. “Wolves have overtaken the vale; we were beginning to despair, but your arrival heralds a time of hope. We have yet to discern what caused the wolves to empty into this valley. Perhaps with your assistance, we will soon learn the reasons behind the invasion.
The other glade-wardens here, Glavrolnen and Helhathel, will explain the tasks that I set before them. See to their requests and earn their favour, and you shall have mine.”
Penthronnil nodded, turning to Helhathel, who was nearest. “Mae govannen,” she greeted the Sindarin elleth. “What can I do to help?”
“Mae govannen, Loremistress. I overheard your discussion with Ovorlas and hope that you are willing to assist us. This vale was once a place of inspiring beauty where we could come and commune with nature. It has fallen far from those days since the incursion of these wolves.
It is unclear where the wolves came from or why they chose to dwell in this valley, but they must be removed to ensure that nature can return to its balance. Enter the valley and destroy the wolves to ensure the future of the valley.”
For his part, Glavrolnen spoke up. “Yes, the valley’s future. Our efforts here are to recover the land from this new threat, that is clear. We are also here at the behest of our kinsmen. In Celondim, there is a vintner who wants only to make a final offering to store enough wine to survive our journey to the west. I have offered to recover enough wood to build such a cask. You will need to search the wood in this vale for wood that has not been spoiled by the sickle-flies or the wolves. Return to me when you have collected enough sturdy pieces of wood, and I will grant you my favour.”
Don’t want much then, do they? Penthronnil thought wryly. She nodded. “I will do ask you ask,” she agreed. Together with Saerui, she walked down the slope into the valley. It would be a lovely place, she thought, with all the white trees about – if only there were not so many wolves prowling! Saerui charged the wolves, leading them off, as Penthronnil sorted through the nearest woodpiles. The occasional wolf would come to snap at her, and she beat them back with the butt of her staff, taking care to keep its gleaming blue crystal well away. She counted at least ten wolves dead before she had collected enough wood for a cask.
Tucking the bundle into her pack, she continued battling her way through, working with physical blows instead of using her power. A dodged blast of fire or lightning could go very badly indeed in a place like this.
Helhathel smiled. “Nature calls once again from the vale, I can feel it course through my being. We cannot rest on this virtue, but you have brought hope where there was sorrow, Penthronnil. You have earned my favour.”
“You have also earned mine,” Glavrolnen said, as Penthronnil placed her bundle of wood before him. “This should please the cooper and the vintner both. The White Ships will certainly now be supplied with the finest wine from Ered Luin.” He paused. “Now that you have collected the wood I would ask one more favour from you, friend. The cooper in Celondim, Bregedúr, needs the wood to craft his casks. I would ask that you seek him out at the highest levels of Celondim on the tiers of the crafters northeast of this location. Deliver the wood to him that he may build a proper cask.”
Both elves gave Penthronnil some coin in thanks for her work. Ovorlas, for his part, offered a new hat, for the wolves had torn Penthronnil’s. She accepted it gratefully, then came to Athal. “I found this satchel amongst the trees, Master Athal.”
“This is Avorthal's pack, I am certain. I fear that something untoward has befallen my friend. Please, take this to Cardavor and tell him that I will do whatever I can to help find my friend -- his son.”
“I will, Master Athal,” Penthronnil promised. She left Nen Hilith behind, making her way back to Celondim to seek out Lord Cardavor and Master Bregedúr.
13. Mostly Ulmo speaks to those who dwell in Middle-earth with voices that are heard only as the music of water. For all seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government; so that the Elves say that the spirit of Ulmo runs in all the veins of the world. (The Silmarillion, “Valaquenta”)
Format: fic
Genre: adventure
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:
Characters: Original characters, LOTRO characters
Pairings:
Creator’s Notes (optional): Well, Penthronnil’s not sailing West, but others are, so that fits…The tale of Penthronnil continues.
Summary: Penthronnil begins to do her part to aid the people of Ered Luin, beginning with the elves in Celondim, who have given her houseroom over the past month.
When the twins had gone their own way, Penthronnil found her way to her hostess, Eilian. “I have decided to remain, Mistress Eilian,” she confirmed at the elleth’s questioning look, “though I may not remain in Celondim for ever. What may I do to be of assistance to you?”
Eilian smiled. “Well, it would not be a service to me alone, but Lord Cardavor may require your assistance. Speak with him over by the piers, if you will. He seems very concerned, and from what I know of the tales of your bravery, you may be able to aid him.”
Penthronnil curtseyed to Eilian and headed northward toward the piers. She found an ellon standing alone as though lost in thought, his brow creased with worry. The thin band of gold that circled his brow identified him for her.
“My lord?” she said softly.
He started nervously, turning to face Penthronnil. “Ah, hello there. We have not had time to get acquainted. My name is Cardavor. And you are...?”
“Penthronnil, my lord Cardavor,” she replied. “Mistress Eilian suggested I might be able to help you.”
Cardavor nodded slowly. “Well met, Penthronnil. I have heard of you, and that you are well-travelled...perhaps you have seen my son Avorthal on your journeys? I received a message from him saying that he was coming from Duillond to visit, but he has not yet arrived. That is most unlike him.”
Penthronnil frowned slightly. “I do not recognise the name, my lord, but perhaps he was merely delayed?”
“Hmm…in his journeys here, he oft speaks with the travellers along the road and visits the vale of Nen Hilith with a friend of his, a dwarf named Athal. Athal watches the road and helps the few dwarf-travellers who come to Celondim. Perhaps Avorthal is speaking to him now and has simply forgotten the time. Would you seek him?” Cardavor looked at Penthonnil anxiously. She gave him a proper curtsey.
“Of course, my lord.” She knew the vale of Nen Hilith by name, and it would be easy enough to find. The difficulty would be speaking to the Dwarf, she thought as she walked along the path. She paused when Laenin hailed her.
“Did you need me, Laenin?” She eyed the Glade-watcher.
“I would ask a favour of you, seeing as Lord Cardavor has spoken with you. Our time is closing in this land. Soon we will be but legend and memory to the mortals who will remain upon these shores. While we are still here, however, we must do what we can to ensure that these lands remain safe and beautiful.
The preservation of the land is why I have come to the port of Celondim. My brethren and I have been looking into recent events in a glade to the north. I am here to enlist any willing to go there and assist us in discovering the source of an infestation of sickle-flies among the trees to the west and south-west of the port. If you are willing, remove the threat of the sickle-flies from the trees and report to Ovorlas at Nen Hilith to the south-west.”
“I am willing to do that,” Penthronnil agreed. It was where she was already going, after all. She called her bear, Saerui, to her side – Melui was of the past. Best to leave her there.
With those tasks in mind, Penthronnil left Celondim for the surrounding valley, heading in a southwesterly direction. As Laenin had feared, there were many vale-flies – insects almost as large as Penthronnil herself, when their wingspan was accounted for. Saerui rushed them, crushing their heads in before they could reach Penthronnil, though the elleth had her staff at the ready just in case. Saerui’s way was most efficient, though, and Penthronnil counted more than half a dozen struck down before they reached the camp of Nen Hilith.
There, Penthronnil spotted three Elves seated around a campfire, speaking companionably with each other. Nearby sat a Dwarf. Penthronnil was not too fond of Dwarven folk, but she had promised Lord Cardavor, and so she approached him respectfully, if somewhat warily.
“Greetings, Master Dwarf.”
“Athal at your service, Loremistress.”
Penthronnil’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I have not earned my mastery yet; still, I thank you. My name is Penthronnil. The Lord Cardavor has sent me to seek his son Avorthal. Have you seen him?”
“Nay, I am still here waiting for Avorthal. He requested I meet him here at the vale of Nen Hilith and has yet to arrive. I meant to enter the vale myself, but the elves bade me not enter and being that Avorthal is not here to speak for me I dare not risk angering them. I am sorry that I cannot be more help to you or Lord Cardavor,” Athal replied. “It is not like Avorthal to be late -- at least not without sending word -- nor to put aside his usual habits. Still, he has spent much time in contemplation in recent days. When Avorthal desires solitude for quiet thought, he spends much time beneath the white trees in this vale. Perhaps he is amongst them now, unbeknownst to anyone. Would you go there and find him? I would of course, but I shall not defy the will of the elves.”
“I understand, Master Athal,” Penthronnil said. “I will go and seek him in the vale.”
“Make your way into the vale of Nen Hilith and search for any signs of Avorthal. I pray you find him hale and hardy, but if not, perhaps you will find some sign of him -- even just his pack.”
“I will do my best, Master Athal. Can you tell me first, where is Ovorlas?” she requested. “Laenin sent me to him.” The Elf so named stood up from his place at the fire.
“Mae govannen! Laenin had you fighting back the sickle-flies? Good. It has become necessary to drive them out of the forest, lest they kill the trees. Your aid will be welcome here, Penthronnil, for there is much to do.”
“I will do my best to aid you,” Penthronnil said, “as will Saerui,” she added. The brown bear snuffled Ovorlas’ hand as he reached out to her.
“You have Laenin’s gratitude, and mine, to be sure.” Ovorlas gave her staff a doubtful look; it had seen her through the journey from Imladris and her stay in Celondim, but it had become much worn in that time. “Take this staff – a gift from Laenin – and may it aid you well.”
Penthronnil took the staff, thanking Ovorlas. “Then I will leave this one with you. It was a gift from Lord Elrond; I imagine it is my fault it wore out so swiftly.”
“Nay, Penthronnil! For songs are sung of your stand against the Witch-king an Age past; doubtless the battle left you greatly weakened, but now you are regaining your power once more. As your abilities return, you will need more powerful weapons to match them,” Ovorlas explained. “Wolves have overtaken the vale; we were beginning to despair, but your arrival heralds a time of hope. We have yet to discern what caused the wolves to empty into this valley. Perhaps with your assistance, we will soon learn the reasons behind the invasion.
The other glade-wardens here, Glavrolnen and Helhathel, will explain the tasks that I set before them. See to their requests and earn their favour, and you shall have mine.”
Penthronnil nodded, turning to Helhathel, who was nearest. “Mae govannen,” she greeted the Sindarin elleth. “What can I do to help?”
“Mae govannen, Loremistress. I overheard your discussion with Ovorlas and hope that you are willing to assist us. This vale was once a place of inspiring beauty where we could come and commune with nature. It has fallen far from those days since the incursion of these wolves.
It is unclear where the wolves came from or why they chose to dwell in this valley, but they must be removed to ensure that nature can return to its balance. Enter the valley and destroy the wolves to ensure the future of the valley.”
For his part, Glavrolnen spoke up. “Yes, the valley’s future. Our efforts here are to recover the land from this new threat, that is clear. We are also here at the behest of our kinsmen. In Celondim, there is a vintner who wants only to make a final offering to store enough wine to survive our journey to the west. I have offered to recover enough wood to build such a cask. You will need to search the wood in this vale for wood that has not been spoiled by the sickle-flies or the wolves. Return to me when you have collected enough sturdy pieces of wood, and I will grant you my favour.”
Don’t want much then, do they? Penthronnil thought wryly. She nodded. “I will do ask you ask,” she agreed. Together with Saerui, she walked down the slope into the valley. It would be a lovely place, she thought, with all the white trees about – if only there were not so many wolves prowling! Saerui charged the wolves, leading them off, as Penthronnil sorted through the nearest woodpiles. The occasional wolf would come to snap at her, and she beat them back with the butt of her staff, taking care to keep its gleaming blue crystal well away. She counted at least ten wolves dead before she had collected enough wood for a cask.
Tucking the bundle into her pack, she continued battling her way through, working with physical blows instead of using her power. A dodged blast of fire or lightning could go very badly indeed in a place like this.
Soon enough, she found the tattered pack, lying at the base of a tree beside the body of a dead goblin. Scooping it up and calling for Saerui, Penthronnil hurried for the camp once more. She did not like the look of that.
First, she spoke to Helhathel. “Saerui and I have slain many wolves, down in the valley,” Penthronnil reported.Helhathel smiled. “Nature calls once again from the vale, I can feel it course through my being. We cannot rest on this virtue, but you have brought hope where there was sorrow, Penthronnil. You have earned my favour.”
“You have also earned mine,” Glavrolnen said, as Penthronnil placed her bundle of wood before him. “This should please the cooper and the vintner both. The White Ships will certainly now be supplied with the finest wine from Ered Luin.” He paused. “Now that you have collected the wood I would ask one more favour from you, friend. The cooper in Celondim, Bregedúr, needs the wood to craft his casks. I would ask that you seek him out at the highest levels of Celondim on the tiers of the crafters northeast of this location. Deliver the wood to him that he may build a proper cask.”
Both elves gave Penthronnil some coin in thanks for her work. Ovorlas, for his part, offered a new hat, for the wolves had torn Penthronnil’s. She accepted it gratefully, then came to Athal. “I found this satchel amongst the trees, Master Athal.”
“This is Avorthal's pack, I am certain. I fear that something untoward has befallen my friend. Please, take this to Cardavor and tell him that I will do whatever I can to help find my friend -- his son.”
“I will, Master Athal,” Penthronnil promised. She left Nen Hilith behind, making her way back to Celondim to seek out Lord Cardavor and Master Bregedúr.
