[the Hall]

    [Finrod and his people are looking at Luthien with rather aghast looks;
    Fingolfin is carefully looking elsewhere]

Finrod:
        You are joking, right?

    [she shakes her head]

        --Telumnar?

    [she nods]

Steward:
        Perhaps you heard the name wrong, my Lady?

Luthien: [shaking her head again]
        Not unless he doesn't know how to pronounce it himself.

Finrod:
        But--

    [he and the rest glance in utter bemusement at the Captain]

        Are you sure it wasn't a -- a jest at your expense?

Luthien:
        Orodreth wasn't doing much joking in those days.

Finrod:
        But -- Telumnar!?

Captain: [serious]
        Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding, gentles. Are you quite sure
        that her Highness is speaking of the same individual?

Steward: [aside]
        How many arrant fools by the name of Telumnar do we know? --How many are
        there, after all?

Captain:
        She didn't say he was being an idiot, though -- my Lady, do you recollect
        well the Elf in question? He wasn't by any chance a thin-browed chap with
        an annoying habit of smirking knowingly at everything you said, as if he
        knew more than you but couldn't trouble himself to correct you?

Luthien: [shrugging]
        I only met him once or twice at state dinners -- and I think he was at that
        party of Finduilas', now that I think back on it. Pretty much everyone was
        acting patronizing and knowing around me, anyway. Sorry.

 Ranger:
        Your Highness, did he tend to try to keep his profile at a five-sevenths
        angle to display his best side at all times, when he was talking to you?

    [several of the Ten snicker -- and Angrod works very hard at keeping a straight
    face; Luthien frowns]

Luthien:
        Now that you mention it, he did seem to be striking poses most of the time.
        I thought he was favoring an injury, at first.

    [even Aegnor chuckles at that, though the mood quickly turns serious again]

Nerdanel:
        Might safely to presume, then, the youngling did learn but little, else
        naught, for all his long travel eke travail?

Finrod:
        You might indeed.

    [to Fingolfin]

        All right, I've been wanting to ask you this for over a yen, now -- and now
        you have to tell me the truth, uncle. Did you foist that fellow off on me
        because you were afraid you'd have a rebellion all of your own if you didn't
        get him out of your own chain of command?

    [everyone looks expectantly at the High King's shade. Long silence.]

Fingolfin:
        I--

    [grimacing, glaring in a mock-ferocious way at his nephew]

        I also had some hope, that your company and that of your companions would
        provide him with exemplar and inspiration to improve. --Though, 'tis true,
        I had come to fear him incorrigible by that time--

Aegnor: [to Angrod]
        Hah! Pay up; I told you so.

    [their uncle turns the glare on them]

Fingolfin:
        --and so I judged that your greater wisdom, young Ingold, should find the
        best way to set him where he might work the least damage.

Elenwe: [admiring]
        Tis deftly done, is't not?

Amarie: [harsh]
        --What, pray?

Elenwe:
        How my lord his father doth turn aside wrath with subtle guile, for his
        words they hold them brimful of praises, to make sweet wrath's bitterness
        -- yet eke mockery, yet nor so venomous that shall aught but sting, as
        salt water's smart, that doth cut when flattery doth 'gin to cloy.

    [to Finrod]

        -- For none other, I vouchsafe, save thee. Yon thornbrake snares of Noldorin
        subtlety be most unpleasing to my soul, do I win through and smite upon's
        conscience else turn back in weariest disarray, for defense cometh most
        naturally unto him.

    [Fingolfin looks mortified at this public deconstruction of his rhetoric; his
    brother and sister-in-law appear both interested and embarrassed for him. To
    the living Vanya:]

        Thy lord, my cousin yet warm --aye, and dauntless -- doth far surpass all
        others in such disport.

Amarie: [coldly]
        That, I did mark well.

Ambassador: [to Elenwe]
        My lady, do you not find this -- unguarded openness, of our present state
        distressing?

Elenwe:
        Nay; how so?

    [he is nonplused by her tone and expression of childlike seriousness, & doesn't
    know what to say; she continues:]

        'Tis but the way this world is, e'en as without the rains do fall betimes,
        nor more sensible to feel distress upon it, than at dew's damp, or droplets'
        splash -- dost such trouble one, had best make no journeying, lest find
        thyself unexpected wet.

Finrod: [rueful, to the Doriathrin Lord]
        My Vanyar kin have a rather -- different -- approach to life than even we
        Teler -- much simpler and far more direct. And much less concerned with
        appearances and public dignity than we Noldor. It can be -- disconcerting,
        even in life.

Ambassador: [looking thoughtfully at him in turn]
        Indeed, I think I have seen such truths as you speak before this time,
        displayed in Menegroth, your Majesty.

    [it is Finrod's turn to be slightly embarrassed]

Elenwe: [musing]
        Though in truth I ne'er did think to see yon solid floor of many fathoms
        riven o'er wave as 'twere but crumbled bread into wine.

    [Fingolfin winces]

Fingolfin:
        Daughter, daughter, have mercy -- I rue thy losses, and I obey thy
        bidding now.

Nerdanel: [wryly]
        Thou dost not so ill at it thyself, good my niece.

    [the Vanyar shade only shrugs]

Elenwe:
        Long dwelt I amongst thy folk in Tirion to learn't.

Teler Maid
        This Telumnar, he is a great fool, I dare to say? For I cannot place him
        in memory.

Steward: [bleak]
        Much worse than that. He is one that will never admit he has erred, in
        any wise. He but changes the matter of his speech, when 'tis shown to him.

Apprentice: [aside]
        Another one! I do hope my Master has judged me complete of patience before
        he comes along.

    [this gets him some rather askance Looks from the presently-dead]

First Guard: [to the Captain]
        I still can't believe the Prince gave him your job.

    [the senior officer only shakes his head, looking bemused and dismayed at the idea]

Luthien: [correcting]
        Not being in charge of your spies -- that went to Gwin, I'm pretty sure.
        He and Orodreth were closeted a lot, and there were other hints--

    [breaking off]

        What? Did I say something wrong?

    [Finrod and his chief lords are exchanging looks of rueful humour]

Captain:
        I ought to ask how you knew about that, Lady Luthien -- but I'm rather
        afraid of the answer. It's going to be more mystical demigod perception,
        isn't it--

    [she is shaking her head]

Luthien
        I heard about it from Dad--

    [he looks relieved at her words]

        --after Mom told him.

Captain:
        Ah. Right.

Luthien:
        But I honestly don't know if she figured it out from watching all you
        interact, or if she just knew. We were all just used to her knowing
        everything. It came up once when Galadriel was pushing Mom a bit about
        how to run a kingdom, and she told her that it depended on being someone
        worthy of following, so that your followers would be worthy of your trust
        -- and then told her to follow her oldest brother's example. Dad said
        something about how important it was to have people you could rely on to
        both hear and speak for you, to be your senses where you couldn't be,
        yourself, and your voice--

    [looking from him to the Steward and back again]

        --and Galadriel challenged him if he knew which of you was which, and
        Mom said obviously, both, it just depended.

    [quickly reassuring]

        This was a private family discussion, it wasn't as though everyone in
        Doriath knew you were more than just military.

Finrod:
        Why do people keep underestimating you, cousin?

Captain: [speaking as if to reassure himself]
        Gwindor's a good lad -- heart in the right place, if still a little wet
        behind the ears.

Finrod: [mild]
        He isn't all that much younger than we are, you know.

    [pause]

Captain:
        I suppose he isn't, at that. The next generation just seem so much more
        uncertain of themselves than we were. --Not really surprising, given the
        hash we made of everything, I suppose--

Aegnor: [cutting]
        Speak for yourself.

    [Angrod elbows him hard]

Huan:
        [low prolonged growl]

    [the Captain stops talking and stares straight ahead; his former colleague
    leans around and turns her fiercest glare on Finrod's brother]

Teler Maid:
        My lord, I tell you, I shall most assuredly make report of your
        unmannerliness to Lady Earwen, when I am alive once again, and let
        her for to know of every least rude word I did hear of you!

    [Aegnor looks suddenly daunted at this, though he does not apologize or
    meet her angry gaze]

Apprentice: [tolerant]
        Well, as a matter of fact, Maiwe, that isn't going to be possible.
        Once you're rehoused, the memory of this place will fade very quickly.

Teler Maid:
        I shall manage it, nonetheless, let you wait, and I vow you shall see!

Apprentice:
        But--

Luthien: [raising her voice a little, cutting them off]
        --In any case, I am certain no one here has done anything approaching the
        level of stupidity of sending my father a letter announcing that his nephew
        had been done away with and his daughter about to be wed to a multiple
        murderer, and advising him not to object if he knew what was good for him.

Steward:
        Oh, yes, that--

    [he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief, Finrod leans forward and gives
    him a puzzled look]

Finrod:
        What?

Third Guard:
        Beren told us, Sir -- oh, that's right, you weren't here then. It was--

Finrod: [flatly]
        --Let me guess. Curufin.

Luthien:
        Writing for the both of them. It's funny, because you'd think that would
        have made them even angrier at me, for having got myself into such a
        situation, but instead Dad was so furious with House Feanor that he
        actually started thinking a little better of Beren--

    [to her compatriot]

        --isn't that right?

Ambassador: [nods]
        Albeit--

    [he checks, then goes on with some reluctance at her Look]

        That was in part -- in part, not all -- attributable to the fact of the
        Lord of Dorthonion's mortality, and your consequent eventual freedom from
        any such bad match.

    [he flinches under her glare, but this looking-away brings him into contact
    with Nerdanel]

        I do apologize, my lady.

    [she makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, unable or unwilling to speak
    just then]

Luthien:
        Anyhow, he decided he was going to solve the problem at least partially,
        by sending Celegorm West, and rescuing me, so that I wouldn't ever have
        to see him again. That got another fight going between him and Mom, over
        the morality of offensive warfare and the problem that killing Kinslayers
        makes you one just as much yourself, but he went ahead and got an invasion
        force together without her approval.

    [Finrod and his followers look at each other, completely horrified]

Warrior: [stricken]
        The Greycloak invaded Nargothrond?

Fourth Guard:
        Don't be silly -- we'd have heard about it firsthand before now.

    [but he still looks shaken too]

Luthien: [grim pleasure]
        I'm glad somebody takes the possibility seriously.

Finrod: [frowning]
        They really didn't think -- what, that your father would react with
        devastating decisiveness upon receiving such a missive, or that he
        would be capable of carrying out such attempt?

    [Luthien raises her hands helplessly]

Luthien:
        I don't know. Both, I guess.

    [sighing]

        It worked out strangely enough, because just as they were getting ready
        to go -- Dad and Mablung and Beleg and all our warriors -- they got word
        of another Enemy incursion along the frontier, and went to deal with that
        instead, and then by the time that was done with, Huan and I were already
        long gone from Nargothrond, and then after he found that out he decided
        it was useless to try to hunt me down again, after the first time had gone
        so poorly, and to try for a diplomatic appeal to Lord Maedhros against his
        younger siblings, who after all are nominally under his authority and were
        moving back in with him.

    [she looks over at the Ambassador, rather sadly]

        --Of course, I wasn't there for any of this, and only heard about it after
        the fact, so if I'm getting any of it wrong, you ought to correct me.

    [he shakes his head, his expression somber.]

Captain:
        Your Highness, how did King Elu discover that you'd flown again?

Luthien:
        Beleg sneaked in and listened to the gossip about it all.

    [the Captain puts his head down on his knees with a groan]

Ranger: [earnestly]
        Sir, this is Cuthalion we're talking about, not some random stranger.

Finrod: [same tone]
        Nor would he have tripped the wardings, not being a minion of the Dark Lord.

Teler Maid: [to the Captain, concerned]
        What troubles you?

    [he only shakes his head, not looking up]

Finarfin:
        Aye, wherefore this ado of thine?

Captain: [muffled]
        Professional humiliation.

    [looking up, grimacing]

        My people let an intruder just traipse through the Guarded Plain and
        glean all the private business of the City from their conversing, and
        then leave, without ever so much as noticing a blade of grass out of
        place throughout. I trained them better than that -- I thought. And
        with Captain Telumnar in charge of defenses, everything falls apart
        in a matter of months! It doesn't sound like Lord Gwindor was getting
        any better cooperation, either.

Steward: [quietly]
        You're forgetting another factor, as you judge them -- and yourself --
        too harshly.

Captain: [scornful]
        What?

Steward:
        Sorrow. You cannot justly expect them to be as keen and alert as otherwise,
        when most assuredly the same grief, dismay, uncertainty and guilt afflicted
        them as ruled in the City proper, as we have heard recounted, soon and late,
        by our shadowy and sometimes guest. They had not you, and that shall have
        been no light matter, with all the rest of it.

Captain:
        Then--

    [checks, with a bitter expression]

        No. I can't say that. Though I think they chose wrong, if then they had
        stayed faithful it's not unlikely they would have partook of our doom,
        too, and--

    [he looks across where the Youngest Ranger is dreaming by the water, and then
    at his Noldor follower and the rest of the Ten, grimly]

        --I couldn't have borne more, and yet I still think their misery both just
        and insufficient, and I can't sort it out in my own heart, and I'd like to
        scruff them and shake them all until their eyes rattle for being idiots,
        the more stupidity I hear about.

    [Finrod gives him a very understanding Look, nodding in agreement; Angrod stares
    pointedly at his nearest sibling, who stares obstinately into the distance.]

Apprentice: [reasonable]
        But you can't do anything to affect what happens there now.

Captain: [bleak]
        I know. --I know.

    [he rests his forehead on his arms, closing his eyes]

Huan:
        [thin whine]

    [the Hound licks the side of his face without getting any response. The Elf
    of Alqualonde regards her friend with a concerned expression.]

Teler Maid:
        Your City was your ship, your waverunner, for you.

    [he nods without looking up]

        Then no words--

    [she gives the disguised Maia a Look]

        --shall e'er truly serve to take the hurt of the loss of your Work
        from you.

    [she rests her hand on his bowed head and then on his nearer hand, oblivious
    to the impressed surprise shared by the Ten and Nienna's student who have been
    witness to her self-centered neediness, at this her first gesture of outreach
    to another. The Captain straightens and grips her fingers before making a sweeping
    gesture of dismissal which also conveys a distinct element of relinquishment.]

Captain: [sighing]
        The fate of Nargothrond -- so far as it ever was -- is out of my hands
        now. I know that. The regret -- that doesn't end.

    [he leans back against the Lord of Dogs, his expression resigned but sad,
    indifferent to the varied looks of concern, understanding, or displeasure
    directed his way]

Finrod: [neutral]
        I'm sure Orodreth will have figured it out by now and appointed someone
        more competent and less convinced of it, and found Telumnar an appointment
        with a grander-sounding title and no leverage to go with it.

    [aside, seething:]

        Invading. My City. --Those bloody fools!

First Guard: [frowning, to his companions]
        I'm surprised Beren mentioned nothing of this when he talked about
        the letter.

Luthien: [carefully]
        Beren -- was a little preoccupied in Menegroth, then, and I'm not sure
        how much of an impression it made on him at that point, particularly
        since it hadn't happened. There were other aspects of that episode which
        affected him more, unfortunately--

    [a touch sarcastic]

        --such as the fact that we'd missed a detachment of Enemy fighters by only
        a few -- score -- leagues of rough terrain and I'd not known about it at all.

    [addressing Nerdanel, who has given up even pretending to draw]

        At least Celegorm was genuinely motivated -- at least in part -- by a desire
        to keep me safe in comfort and civilization, as he saw it--

    [aside]

        --at least at that point.

Finarfin:
        For my part, that none of mine own folk e'er did aid thee, nor aught but
        suffer thee to stay benighted and imprisoned meanwhiles, the while they
        did indulge upon false gaiety, doth trouble my heart full measure with
        all the rest of't.

Fingolfin: [indignant]
        Indeed, it amazes me beyond words' power to describe, that among all our
        kindred there, not one had conscience nor courage to speak truth and stand
        beside you in this, Highness. Even in House Feanor's entourage, there should
        have been more than a few who did not lack the clarity of thought and
        strength of will to hold firm against wrongdoing!

    [the Feanorian shade darts a quick, nervous glance at the dead High King]

Luthien: [with a fatalistic shrug]
        They weren't very happy about it ultimately either. A lot of Curufin's
        picked guards took to hiding where I couldn't see them from the door when
        it was their turn to guard me, after I took to haranguing them about their
        guest-duty and familial obligations.

    [narrowing her brows]

        The bit they hated the most, besides my songs, was the riddle Beren taught
        me, that one about the cuckoo.

    [Aegnor and Angrod exchange silent Looks]

Teler Maid:
        What is a -- a cuckoo?

Captain:
        It's what we call a bell-bird, here.

    [half to himself]

        They wouldn't like that, would they . . .

Ambassador:
        How does it go, this mortal wit, my Princess?

    [she lifts her head defiantly, though he was not being sarcastic just then]

Luthien:
        --Myself in that day was given up for dead,
        fatherless, motherless. I had no life then,
        no friend nor elder to turn to. Then came another.
        She guarded me well, giving me garments
        and strong protection, held me and cherished
        as dearly as her own. Even so in her shelter
        I soon grew high-hearted among strangers,
        striving ever as my spirit must, though but a guest.
        Yet still she sheltered me, until I grew stronger
        to set my sights wider. She suffered the loss
        of her own sons and daughters for that deed.

    [there are mixed reactions -- those of Aman do not understand all the
    connotations, while those hailing from Beleriand get it, but the Ten look
    more vindictively pleased, while Finrod's kinsmen angry-grim, and the
    Warden of Aglon insulted and resentful]

Teler Maid:
        How means yon riddle a bell-bird?

Captain:
        In the woods back home, the cuckoos lay their eggs in the nests of
        unsuspecting thrushes and warblers when the parents are foraging, and
        then go off, leaving their nestlings to hatch and be reared by the
        other birds.

Teler Maid: [outraged]
        Why, that is most unfair, and cheating, indeed!

    [the Feanorian lord sneers at her naivete]

Captain:
        Gets worse -- they're not content to skive off the parents and take some
        of the other chicks' share, they go further and fling out the real young
        ones, so that they can get all the food and care for themselves. Then
        after they've destroyed their hosts' family, they fly off and do the same
        thing themselves to some other victim.

Apprentice:
        That's disgusting.

    [pause]

        And it does fit, in a peculiar sort of way.

    [Finarfin takes his sister-in-law's hand in a gesture intended to comfort,
    if not effective]

Luthien: [forlorn]
        Yes, but it didn't work.

Finrod:
        Not the way you intended, but certainly it had some influence after,
        or else our cousins would still be in power there. Probably in authority,
        too, if not legitimate, since it sounds as though they had designs against
        Orodreth, if Celegorm was talking about making himself King over all
        southern Beleriand. Undoubtedly your exhortations were very much in
        everyone's hearts when the counter-coup took place.

Luthien: [unhappily]
        But is that really a good thing? What with you being dead, mightn't it
        be more practical to have a strong leadership, at least, regardless of
        the justice of it, simply for the common good? Because of the War?

    [a distinct chill settles upon all present, except Finrod himself, who reaches
    out and takes firm hold of both her hands]

Finrod:
        A King and his Steward who didn't know enough not to antagonize --
        further -- their largest and longest-ruling neighbor, whose support
        covers a broad ethnic base and whose territorial integrity alone has
        not been compromised during the recent defeats? To put it bluntly --
        and insulting nobody present -- Celegorm has less political awareness,
        I'm afraid, than does Lord Huan, who hasn't any obligations of diplomacy
        nor would any reasonably expect him, as pack leader, to have. Close
        contact with those our cousins over an extended time made it increasingly
        clear to me why Maedhros chose to sequester them prudently a long ways
        from civilized society, where they weren't likely to antagonize any other
        Elves outside their own followings.

    [his siblings bridle at this, but check when they see he is teasing them,
    with a slight twinkle in his expression as he gives them a sidelong Look]

Aegnor: [very gruff]
        It isn't funny.

Finrod:
        Parts of it are, nonetheless.

    [turning back to Luthien]

        --Had our kinsmen remained in charge, your father would have invaded
        Nargothrond, would he not?

    [Luthien nods grimly]

        And that wouldn't have been a good thing.

Luthien: [almost whispering]
        No.

    [the Sea-elf has been frowning to herself in concentration, and finally
    speaks out again]

Teler Maid:
        Why make your bell-birds yonder such fell murder, when they need not
        kill to feed themselves, where 'tis fodder free-growing for all the
        birds of the wood?

Finrod:
        It's the Marring, Sea-Mew. Everything fights itself to some extent,
        in Middle-earth, needful or not. And they'd rather not work for what
        they need, when others will do it for them.

Teler Maid: [wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning her chin on them]
        Like our ships.

    [simultaneous]

Finarfin:
Amarie: [very sadly]
        Aye.

Finrod: [lecturing]
        Luthien, none of this is your fault. No more than it's Beren's -- you
        happened to wander into the way of our Doom, just as he did, and you're
        no more to be blamed for what followed on that than you are for falling
        in love in the first place. You wouldn't blame the Sea-Mew here, any more
        than your uncle my grandfather, for the fact that those vessels were
        coveted and appropriated by our cousins? The uncoerced behaviour of other
        persons in or out of Nargothrond is not attributable to your own.

Luthien:
        I know that. But--

    [taut]

        --I heard a great deal of the opposite of that, in and out of Nargothrond.

    [heavy silence]

Soldier: [somewhat shyly]
        My Lady--

    [as she turns to look directly at him he loses his hesitancy]

        --could you perchance tell us of our own kin and other friends we left
        behind back home?

Luthien:
        Of course--

    [checks]

        I mean -- as best I can -- but I'm afraid it might not be very well
        at all. I -- met some of your nearest there, more than I know, probably,
        but -- they didn't all identify themselves as such, and those who did--

    [getting quieter and more unhappy]

        --tended to blame all of you as much as they did us.

    [the Apprentice straightens where he is sitting, watching with a somewhat
    detached interest, as might be expected of a friendly onlooker at a family
    reunion, and his expression grows graver]

Soldier: [shaking his head]
        I wouldn't expect any different, given what I left to, and the same for
        nigh us all, I think--

    [his friends also nod, their expressions bittersweet as his]

        --but still it's home, and hearth, and memory of better days, better
        than naught--

    [Luthien nods in answer, reaching out her hands towards the Ten]

Luthien: [a little choked up]
        Give me their names and manners, and I'll do my best to give report of them--

Apprentice: [in a worried, responsible tone]
        I don't think that's really a good idea.

    [she turns sharply to gaze at him]

Luthien: [short]
        Why not?

Apprentice:
        Well -- because -- you're supposed to be leaving the conflicts of the past
        behind here. It's--

Luthien: [cutting him off]
        Isn't it about healing?

Apprentice: [defensive, responsible, and increasingly harried]
        Yes and reopening old wounds and resentments won't assist that, now will it?

Luthien:
        But--

Finrod: [talking right over her]
        I don't see anyone putting a stop to our asking -- or even giving stringent
        warnings against it.

Apprentice:
        Yes, but--

Finrod: [going on regardless]
        In fact, I've never heard of anyone being forbidden to send their dead
        relatives messages -- even if they don't often get answered -- so by
        extension it doesn't seem as though there'd be any problem with us
        asking after our living ones--

Apprentice:
        --there's no one else here to--

Finrod: [still talking over him]
        -- as much as we want. No one told me I couldn't send an apology to my
        lady, after all -- except for her, that is--

    [Amarie clenches fists and teeth on a retort]

Angrod:
        No, it's just you, you get exceptions made for you all the time--

Finrod:
        No. I merely do things nobody else does, and then the Powers that are here
        have to come up with some way to deal with them. --You should try it some time.

Luthien: [slightly manic tone and expression]
        I am.

Fingolfin: [pained exasperation]
        Might we please leave the rest of our family out of this?

    [his nephews don't notice]

Aegnor:
        And actually that isn't true, because people who don't stop pestering
        their dead relations are told off to give them peace and quiet to decide
        in, and stop hounding them with pleas meanwhile.

Fingolfin: [grimly]
        Aegnor--

Finrod:
        But that's only temporary--

Fingolfin: [raising his voice loudly for the first time]
        --Grinding Ice!! Will you boys leave your grandfather's memory in peace?!

    [silence]

Finrod:
        Sorry, Father -- Uncle -- Aunt 'Danel.

Angrod:
        --Sorry.

    [Aegnor bows his head in stiff apology, while their elders share Looks of mild exasperation]

Fingolfin: [offhand]
        You see, my brother, they're not irreverent because they are dead,
        but because death of itself suffices not to diminish overconfidence,
        unmindfulness, obstinacy, pride, or--

    [glancing from his nephews to pass with a slow cool gaze over their followers]

        --a twisted sense of what is deemed humorous.

Captain: [innocent]
        I beg your pardon, Sire, but surely you're not referring to any of the
        present company?

Aegnor: [aside, exasperated]
        Is there no end to your stupid jokes?:

Fingolfin: [equally wickedly bland]
        But of course not, friends.

    [the Apprentice shakes his head helplessly, and settles down again leaning
    his chin on his hand as he gives up trying to exercise any control -- while
    behind him the orb of the palantir flashes again, quite unnoticed.]

    [Elsewhere: the Corollaire]

Beren:
        At the risk of sounding awful sorry for myself -- I've gotta say you
        must be pretty disappointed in me. And hard up for Servants.

Yavanna:
        Why would you think so?

Beren: [staring out over the plain]
        Because it didn't matter in the end. You try, and you try, and you do the
        best you can -- and some bastard comes along and smashes down everything
        that you built up over the years, and you fight him off and put it back
        together again, and it just happens all over again, and you can't defend
        it all, and each time there's less to fix, and whatever you manage to save
        means that there's something else that you're not protecting, and eventually
        there's nothing left because it's so much faster to burn things down than
        to build them. And nothing can grow when everything's being burned and
        trampled and no one's there to look after things. And finally you have to
        go, and whatever you did is lost and ruined.

    [he is struggling to keep from breaking down, his voice unsteady as he finishes]

Yavanna: [a bit sniffly, but proud-sounding]
        Yes. Yes, that's it exactly. I knew you'd understand.

    [he gives her a strange Look]

        It doesn't stop hurting even after thousands of years.

Beren: [surprised]
        I was talking about -- myself. About us.

    [smaller voice]

        And you. --Not just you. --Ma'am.

    [she looks intensely into his eyes, until his embarrassment and self-
    consciousness fade leaving behind only the earnest effort to understand]

        I never realized -- that you saw us that way. It seems -- like we'd be,
        be just too small for you -- for you to notice.

    [wordlessly she closes her hand and then opens it, like a conjurer doing a
    trick, with something tiny -- a pebble perhaps, lying in the middle of her
    palm. As he frowns at it, she folds her fingers shut and then opens them
    again -- and something bright, like a dragonfly-sized metallic green-and-
    gold bumblebee buzzes forth, remaining in a kind of orbit around her --
    Beren stares, amazed, trying to figure out what it is, while the Earthqueen
    smiles, and beckons it closer, until it settles on her forefinger, briefly
    at rest. Recognizing the avian nature of it, he gasps in amazement, and the
    hummingbird takes flight again, attracted to the flowers now rising high
    over the grass where Vana left them.]

Beren:
        That -- is that real?

    [laughs at himself, shaking his head]

        What is it? I guess it must be one of those creatures that there's only
        Quenya names for because they don't exist back home. --But that one -- was
        it real, or did you just make it to show me that? And the vole, only they
        don't usually have ears like that -- I mean, are they just going to disappear
        when you stop thinking about them? Or are they real like me, at least?

Yavanna: [amused]
        You're worried about little animals that might be imaginary. Do you still
        wonder why you're my Champion?

    [reassuringly]

        Even hummingbirds dream, though they don't rest much.

Beren:
        So when a -- hummingbird -- dreams, it dreams about you.

Yavanna: [shrugging]
        About being a hummingbird. I simply called it over. Very few people pay
        much attention to us, you know. Even here. Quite properly -- this isn't
        for us, after all.

    [as he still looks confused]

        The Song. Arda. It's for all of you.

Beren:
        Oh. Okay, I see. --Are their eggs really the size of small beans?

    [she nods]

        That's hard to believe. All right, I get that if you care about a bird
        that's not much bigger than a big bug, then it's not impossible for you
        to know about or care about any of us, but that just leaves me even more
        confused.

Yavanna:
        And you're quite correct. There's too much of Ea for any one of us to attend
        to every aspect of all parts of it. That's why it goes without requiring
        interference, mostly -- why we made it that way. You don't think that I have
        to come and pollinate every seed and ripen every grain and berry by hand, do
        you? As if there's enough time for that! We're much better artists than that.
        Things look after themselves, except when Melkor breaks them.

Beren: [noncommittally]
        That seems to happen a lot, though.

Yavanna:
        That's why we specialize. If I were to allow myself to get as upset about
        everything of mine that's been wrecked -- let alone everyone else's Work
        -- as they deserved, I wouldn't be able to function. None of us could.
        And that would be very bad for the world.

Beren: [neutral]
        I thought you didn't do everything yourself, though.

Yavanna:
        You were never lord in your own hall, with your lady at your side -- but
        your experience and wits should still suffice to tell you, what happens
        when those who order the moving of others cease to attend.

    [after a second he looks down]

Beren:
        Yeah. It can't go on very long. After -- after my aunt died, my folks did
        what needed to be done but if my uncle hadn't pulled himself out of it,
        he wouldn't really have been Beor any more, even if we still would've
        called him that out of politeness. 'Cause somebody had to make decisions
        and get stuff done.

Yavanna:
        But your parents did not do all those tasks themselves, surely?

Beren:
        No. They just had to -- be there, mostly, so people could know that
        everything was okay enough for them to do their own work and not worry
        about -- well, everything. They had to do it while my uncle was in
        mourning and being with my cousins, because he couldn't focus on anything
        else then.

    [pause -- he looks at her very seriously, working his way through it:]

        That's -- that's Her job, isn't it? Because somebody has to. Because the
        world deserves it. Because -- we deserve it.

    [she nods]

        But the day's work still has to be done and somebody has to make sure
        there's enough food in the barns and the cellars for winter. Somebody
        has to greet travelers and make the little ones toys and teach them
        stories even if you feel like it doesn't matter if the sun comes up
        ever again. It has to keep going.

Yavanna: [meaningfully]
        You do understand.

Beren: [wistful]
        Is -- Is it true it would destroy Beleriand, for you all to go there and
        fight Morgoth up in the far North even? I mean -- I'm not trying to say
        they were lying to me, but -- are you sure they're not wrong? Maybe?

Yavanna:
        You do know that the mountains of your birthplace were made in the course
        of the last war? I mean really know, not just one more strange thing that
        you've heard the Eldar say that sort of skates past your self's awareness
        the way a leaf might drift past you in a stream, there and then gone from
        your mind the next moment?

Beren:
        Um . . . yeah . . .

    [giving her a sidelong Look]

        How?

    [she shrugs]

Yavanna:
        Unfortunately that part of the earth isn't my field, if you'll excuse the
        joke -- such a curious thing, using words as toys, I still don't understand
        how the Eldar came up with it -- but my husband's, and when he starts talking
        about subduction and transverse faults and so on, my mind starts glazing over.
        The best way I can explain it is that mountains have to come from somewhere,
        and something has to go in where they used to be; you can't just have nothing,
        not within the World. Look--

    [she spreads out the hem of her skirt in front of her and manifests a handful of
    fine sand, sprinkling it over the fabric so that it fills up between where the
    grass makes rises in the cloth]

        This is water. It goes wherever the ground is lowest, you know that.

Beren:
        Because it's always trying to get back to its home.

    [she nods. Sprinkling a handful of small flower petals in between, covering the
    rest of the cloth]

Yavanna:
        This is everything else. Now--

    [she pinches up part of the hem]

        --this is what happens when you lift up a mountain in the middle of it.
        Sort of.

    [as she pulls the tented cloth higher, all the sand and organic matter pours
    together and starts running into the grass]

        Aule would laugh at me and tell you this was all wrong, and then go into
        an explanation that would leave you thinking that the earth was really
        made out of numbers instead, but as analogies go, it's pretty accurate
        really. You have to imagine that it's happening in fits and starts and
        that the fabric of the crust is more brittle in places and so it rips
        and the hot melted parts that keep everything going are coming out through
        the holes.

    [he points to a place where some of the biomass has caught in a fold]

Beren: [very quietly]
        There's still a little bit left.

Yavanna:
        How is it doing?

    [pause]

        It looks all mixed together to me.

    [Beren doesn't say anything]

        Something would survive. It did the first time, and last time as well. But
        the ocean will move in where the ground pushes in--

    [she presses down the edge of her skirt into the grass, which dips over the
    hem as the remaining sand spills off]

        --and the fires which come up will burn what is near them, and that will
        cause storms much worse than the seasonal ones--

    [she blows at the flower petals, which drift away]

        --and what was done to Dorthonion in the course of trying to chivy you out
        will seem like nothing by comparison.

    [pause]

        Do you really want that to happen to Middle-earth? Even if it does come
        as the price of Melkor's defeat?

    [he shakes his head, not looking up. She smoothes his hair and rubs his back
    in a consoling gesture]

        --Neither do I.

        [The Hall]

Finrod: [gently chiding tone]
        You should have come to visit us before the War broke out.

Luthien: [bittersweet smile]
        That's what I said to Finduilas . . .

    [looks around]

        Where is that dog? Huan, you have to come here, you're the hero of this
        part -- come down where I can praise you properly.

    [reluctantly the Hound gets up, still skulking rather, and squeezes his way
    through the company, who edge aside to make room for him. He hunkers down
    behind Luthien on the other side, (since the space in front of the steps is
    now full of map) and puts his head across her lap. She gives him a quick kiss
    on the forehead and uses him quite casually as an armrest during the following
    exchanges. During all this movement Aredhel and Eol reappear, silently and
    somewhat tenuously, off to one side of the dais. They look about, hackles
    raised, daring anyone to notice or comment. There is something slightly
    different about their appearance, but hard to say what. Only now do they look
    at each other, with closed expressions:]

    [simultaneous]

Eol:
        --Don't say anything.
Aredhel:
        --Shut up.

    [overlapping]

Eol:
        --It means nothing--

Aredhel:
        --It doesn't mean anything--

    [they stop and glare briefly (but curiously) at each other, then look
    determinedly away]

Eol:
        Some sort of Ainur trick, that's all.

    [she nods shortly; they sit down on the steps, at a distance from the rest
    but on the same side, though at arm's length from each other. After a moment
    the Noldor princess gives her husband a sidelong Look.]

Aredhel: [amused]
        So . . . that's what you really want--

Eol: [interrupting, through clenched teeth]
        --Shut up.

    [by now it might have been noticed by viewers that neither of the couple is
    armed, and Eol though still dressed in all black, is no longer wearing his
    armour beneath his cloak. The Sea-elf leans over and whispers to her former
    colleague:]

Teler Maid: [impressed]
        How knew you, that 'twould surpass the setting of false fire about her
        blade for diversion and mirth, to let her gain the Lady's notice?

Captain:
        Just insight, lass, just plain old tercen. And deduction.

    [shaking his head]

        She'd not be warned by me. And Master Smith has trouble discerning his
        own best interests, no less. They were bound to fall foul of her soon enough.

Luthien:
        So, anyway, we discussed several possible approaches to dealing with Enemy
        minions, and Huan definitely didn't think my idea of trying to sneak in and
        get work working as another slave in the kitchens or something would work,
        but then I wasn't sure if his idea of pretending to be sick or injured out
        in the woods beside the river bank away from the bridge and me going and
        pretending to betray him to Sauron out of revenge for him capturing me and
        giving me over to the Kinslayers would work. After all, the Terrible One
        might just keep me there and send a minion out to look for him -- though
        I was willing to try -- and then we came up with the idea of me luring him
        out, and Huan jumping on him from behind when he came to try to capture me.

    [through this narration Finrod and his relations, most particularly Nerdanel,
    are giving her extremely and increasingly strange Looks]

Finrod:
        --We?

    [he is giving her a baffled smile, which only succeeds in spreading the confusion]

Luthien:
        ? ? ?

Finrod:
        You, and Huan . . . ?

Luthien: [frowning]
        There wasn't anyone else there -- Celebrimbor had already gone away and
        didn't come back.

Finrod:
         . . .

    [the Steward leans back, looking faintly amused]

Steward:
        The answer, my lord, is "yes."

Finrod: [still looking confused]
        But when did you learn to speak with kelvar, cousin? Or is that something
        you've always been able to do, like understanding trees,  and never
        mentioned ere now?

Luthien: [worried]
        I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're asking, Finrod.

Finrod: [flatly]
        You and Huan were discussing things.

    [she nods]

Third Guard: [earnest]
        The Hound does talk, Sire.

    [as the High Kings, living and dead, and the other Eldar, lawful or otherwise,
    stare at him]

        Beren said so.

    [biting his lip, Finrod looks at Huan, then at Luthien, still not knowing quite
    what to say. The Lord Warden shakes his head with a look of annoyance and scorn]

Aglon: [intending to be heard]
        Dogs aren't quendi, you fools.

    [overlapping]

Amarie:
        What, dost claim yon gangling rebel hound be more and greater nor any whelp
        other of Lord Orome's breeding?

    [she and the Warden glare at each other, momentarily, both furious at having
    shared an opinion in public, and ostentatiously look away from each other; Huan
    whines sadly]

Luthien: [shrugging]
        I don't know. I don't know if he's any different from the rest of Tavros'
        pack. All I know is, he's the best dog I've ever had or heard of.

    [distantly]

        And a better friend I've never had, either.

    [the Ambassador turns his head away, hiding a stricken expression behind his hand]

Angrod: [not quite aside either]
        We always did say he understood every word we said . . .

Finrod:
        Are you--

    [closes his eyes, starts over again. Carefully:]

        Has anyone besides yourself heard him?

Luthien: [straightfaced]
        Well, -- Beren.

    [pause]

        And my father. And Mablung. And Beleg. And a whole lot of other people who
        were there when he died.

    [stroking the Hound's ears gently as she finishes]

Finrod: [blankly]
        All right.

    [leaning back to look at the Captain]

        You weren't making a joke about it, then, earlier.

Captain:
        No, Sir.

Nerdanel: [resigned, though her brothers-in-law still look dubious, as do others]
        Nay, I do confess me much astonisht withal -- yet truly, ever did we say
        him wise, clever, and cunning in wit nigh as any Elf, about the House,
        in lost Day.

Huan: [grinning]
        [happy tail thumps]

Warrior:
        Ow! --Huan!!

Aredhel: [very aside]
        What utter rot.

Eol: [just as obviously not intended to be heard by Luthien]
        Obviously. I told you my royal family were mad.

Apprentice: [generally, smug]
        Oh, there'll be far stranger things than a talking dog before this
        is over--!

Finrod: [struggling to not be incredulous]
        So . . .

    [he covers by reaching over to scratch Huan's nose, but is plainly rattled]

        . . . ah, you came up with a plan to draw Sauron out and trap him,
        between the two of you. I mean, between the two of you, you came up
        with a plan . . .

Luthien:
        It works the other way, too.

Finrod:
        It . . . sounds very . . . simple.

    [aside, aghast]

        --And completely insane--!!

Luthien: [crossly]
        Well, I challenge you to come up with a better one on short notice--

    [breaking off]

        Oh -- no, I -- I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--

    [she clutches her temples, grimacing, (fortunately at this point nothing she can
    do one way or the other can make her hair any worse) while Finrod shakes his head,
    trying to reassure her -- but not able to get through until Luthien experiences
    again for herself the dampening consequences of being distraught around a large
    friendly canid, as Huan takes advantage of proximity to snuffle in her ear and
    under her chin]

Finrod: [rubbing her shoulder]
        Shh -- I understand.

    [Luthien pulls herself together, not entirely over her attack of remorse]

        It's still insane.

    [as she gives him a wary Look]

        --What did Beren say about it, I wonder?

    [she glares at the ceiling arches]

        That's what I thought. So -- I gather you rode Huan, then, like a horse?

    [the Lord of Dogs wags his tail again before remembering that there are other
    people about]

        Well, there isn't--

    [checks -- wryly, glancing over at the Apprentice]

        --wasn't -- a faster mount in my stables, so that part at least was
        sane, in my judgment. And he'd be better than any warsteed for dealing
        with any enemy patrols you might have run into.

Huan:
    [melancholy whine]

Luthien: [concerned]
        Are you going to be all right with me telling this?

    [her cousin nods, smiling just a little; she looks around at the rest of his
    relatives, and continues rather acerbically]

        Just to warn all of you, I'm not -- and I'm probably going to start crying
        again at some point.

    [to Finrod, anxious again]

        --Are you sure?

    [he nods again, not looking away from her]

Finrod:
        It's over for us.

Teler Maid: [very abruptly]
        I do not wish to hear this part again.

    [she gets up and goes to the Falls, a little way from where the Youngest Ranger
    is lying down, and kneels down to watch the water too.]

Elenwe: [considering Finrod's kinfolk with a piercing Look]
        Not for self alone doth the child speak, I deem.

Finarfin:
        Thou seest overmuch, good my niece. Yet tales there be, that rehearsal
        doth not lighten, nor the passing time dull their most hurtsome edge
        upon the heart.

Luthien: [very quietly]
        I'm sorry, my lord -- but what happens after doesn't make much sense, if
        I leave this out.

Finarfin: [resolutely]
        Nay, say on: aught that hath been shall ne'er be made naught, by ceasing
        to speak thereof.

    [Finrod steals a concerned glance at his father -- it is only now beginning to
    sink in for him what the other Elf is going through. He does not however notice
    Amarie's frozen expression; Nerdanel holds out a hand to her, but the Vanyar
    lady either does not or chooses not to notice, keeping hers firmly folded on
    her knee as though posing for her portrait. The camera cuts over to the waterfall:
    by the spill pool, the Sea-elf has already gotten bored of silence and tosses
    something accurately at the unsuspecting Sindarin warrior. He startles, reaching
    up to snag it out of the air and sitting bolt upright in one quick motion, then
    looks bemusedly at the bracelet he has caught for himself.]

Youngest Ranger:
        Rains jewelry here, eh?

Teler Maid:
        Sorry--!

    [she does not sound particularly contrite, though -- he smiles at her, and
    she giggles]

Youngest Ranger: [straight-faced]
        What are these?

Teler Maid:
        Those are pearls, which come of oysters, which are akin to snails, though
        they do not look it. One finds them underwater.

Youngest Ranger:
        Are you sure? They look like polished white glass to me.

Teler Maid:
        Of course I am sure! I brought them up myself, and we had them for supper.
        The oysters, I mean. When I was alive of course. The ones I am dreaming of.

Youngest Ranger:
        How do beads come from snails?

    [pause]

Teler Maid:
        I am not quite sure.

Youngest Ranger: [still deadpan]
        Are you sure you're not making fun of me?

Teler Maid:
        Yes. No, I am not, I mean.

    [checks]

        Oh, but you are making sport of me! For you are known of Lord Cirdan, and
        the havens of the Land of Morning!

Youngest Ranger:
        Not I, I'm afraid. I lived my life inland, always -- I was never stationed
        on the Coast.

    [she makes an exasperated noise, tossing her head]

Teler Maid:
        If not you, then all of you -- and indeed you must know something of them,
        for there are pearls on the very image of your cloak-pin there!

    [sniffing]

        Do you also know the way of it that pearls are fashioned, then?

    [he shakes his head]

        I must ask my Lady someday, that is all.

    [when he goes to give her back the bracelet she makes a "keep it" gesture, and
        looks at him thoughtfully with her head on one side.]

        Are you afraid of Lady Uinen?

Youngest Ranger: [at a loss]
        I --'ve not had the honor -- never been introduced--

Teler Maid: [probing]
        But would you, if you were to chance to meet her?

    [he starts knotting the pearls into the end of his braid]

Youngest Ranger: [very busily not looking at her]
        Probably.

Teler Maid:
        But you are are a warrior, you have fought demons and do not fear to wield
        weapons! And you are clever, you even know how to call things out of rocks!

    [she waves towards the Falls]

Youngest Ranger: [dismissive]
        I learned that from the King. I don't understand what I'm doing enough to
        teach anyone else, and I think that's part of doing anything properly. And
        I grew up always knowing that there were creatures of the Enemy out there,
        and that people I knew had fought them, and might have to again. I didn't
        grow up knowing the gods as neighbors.

Teler Maid: [even more dismissive in turn]
        Yes, but you have met them now, have you not? So why do you yet fear them?

    [pause]

Youngest Ranger:
        I think when you and I look at things, we see them differently.

Teler Maid:
        Of course! Or we should not be different people.

Youngest Ranger: [patient]
        I mean, more differently than most differences. --When I look at the gods,
        it's like standing by the smeltry and watching them cast ingots for the
        forging. That level of raw energy, even if it's completely controlled,
        scares me more than I can tell. I trust the smiths, but I don't like being
        around so much power. I don't think it's the same for you.

Teler Maid:
        You do not like the gods.

    [worried and scolding]

        Are the words of those proud Noldor true, then, though they should not
        mock anyone for Turning, that you do reject the Powers of our land?

Youngest Ranger:
        That wasn't what I said.

Teler Maid:
        But it was in your thought.

Youngest Ranger: [correcting patiently]
        I don't like being around them. It frightens me.

    [pause]

        Though a lot of that was my own fears, about being sent back. Now that
        I know they were right, that no one has to leave before he's ready, the
        idea of the Lord and Lady doesn't make me sick with anxiousness.

Teler Maid: [with a sulky but self-directed humor]
        That, you might indeed have known, did you but consider me -- even were
        you not willing to trust your friends' wisdom!

Youngest Ranger:
        But I didn't know it. Not until I was willing to ask Them and risk the answer.

Teler Maid:
        Are you afraid of Nienna, too?

Youngest Ranger: [surprised tone]
        No!

Teler Maid:
        Why? Or not, as it rather were.

    [pause]

Youngest Ranger:
        Because--

    [checks]

        --because.

    [she gives him a Look, and he sighs and goes on]

        --Because when She looks at you, you know that nothing you've done,
        nothing that was done to you, nothing you could ever do, and nothing
        you didn't do, could ever make Her look at you in any other way. --Or
        look away from you. How could I be frightened by Love that doesn't
        demand anything of me in return, doesn't judge me, has no conditions,
        and won't ever stop?

    [pause]

        I'm not sure why House Feanor is so afraid of her, myself.

    [the other shade looks away, subdued, and slumps down to lean on the rocks
    and watch the flames on the water for a while]

Teler Maid: [very quietly]
        Because it makes one to wish to become worthy of that love.

    [Elsewhere: the Corollaire]

Beren:
        You're not saying as much, but for some reason it's making more sense
        when you explain these things to me.

Yavanna:
        Of course. My family means well, but sometimes they can be a bit
        overwhelming. And you're mine, so naturally you understand me more
        clearly.

Beren: [gesturing widely at the distant eastern horizon]
        The thing I still don't understand is how anything good can come out of
        what Morgoth does. It would be nice to think that in spite of himself he
        ends up doing some good, even if it doesn't make up for the rest, but I
        don't see how that's possible, 'cause all he does is destroy stuff and
        hurt people.

Yavanna:
        The best way I can explain is to tell you a story. --And yes, it's real.

    [he grins, abashed]

        Once there were creatures in Middle-earth like pigs, but different. And
        the King's greedy brother stole them from the Lady who owned them, while
        they were foraging on the plains for food, because he said they were on
        his property. And he turned them into monsters, and made them bigger,
        and gave them round flat feet, and made their tushes as long as spears,
        and sent them back to trample on her gardens and dig up the roots of them
        and knock over the trees she had planted there.

    [pause]

Beren:
        How did he do that?

Yavanna: [sadly]
        I'm afraid I can't tell you.

Beren: [nodding]
        Mysteries of the gods. I understand.

Yavanna:
        No, you don't. That's the trouble. I would if I knew how, but it's so
        different from anything in your life, from your perspective, that I don't
        think it will make any sense.

Beren:
        Oh.

    [pause]

        Can you try?

Yavanna: [slight frown]
        Yes, but I don't know that I'll be able to succeed. --Do the words
        "transposable element-induced mutations" convey anything to you?

    [pause]

Beren:
        Nope.

Yavanna:
        That's what I was afraid of.

    [pause -- slowly]

        You know about breeding ungulates, right? How you can change the herd
        by coupling the hardiest, or select for more milk, or heavier coats,
        or smaller horns, or calmer temper?

Beren:
        Like cows and sheep and goats, right? Are they like -- ungulants? Because
        I don't think we have them back home. Since obviously you're not talking
        about spiders.

Yavanna:
        Yes, you do -- that's what they are, all of them. And others as well. It
        means the ones with hooves, not paws.

Beren: [embarrassed]
        Oh.

Yavanna: [tossing her head, dismissive]
        Silly word, really. I know what they are, and they know what they are,
        but it means so much to the Eldar to be able to organize them with names.
        Anyhow, Melkor did something like that to them, only because he's a god
        he can do it far more effectively and in ways that would never occur to
        most people to think of -- thankfully! -- but it takes a very long time,
        even for us, to change things, and while he was so pleased with himself
        for making creatures that could destroy my trees, he completely missed
        something else that was happening at the same time.

    [she smiles, rather scarily -- her tone is triumphant]

        They became wise. They live in tribes, of a sort, now, and they have lore
        of a fashion, and they teach their young to mind the old ways, and the
        oldest females are always their leaders. And they do knock down and eat
        trees, but they also make it possible for many other creatures to live,
        on them and around them and because of them. So -- those ones are still
        mine, even though he tried to take them away from me.

Beren:
        You did that? You -- can do that?

Yavanna:
        Of course. But not the same way. Not as you're thinking of it, like that
        game your friends are so mad for, the one with little bits of stone -- as
        though Melkor moved one, and then I moved another to counter him. And it
        isn't just me, either. It's all of us.  Nia and dear Este and Tav', and my
        kinswomen, Vana and Nessa and little Melian, and my husband, and Irmo and
        your friends Tulkas and the one you've never met, but know as well as me,
        Ulmo, and his people, and Vaire, Namo and Manwe and Varda, and all of us,
        everywhere, the ones you know of and the ones no Elf or Man has ever
        guessed at.

    [pause]

        --Huan, too.

Beren:
        You mean the Song.

Yavanna: [nodding]
        It pours out across the emptiness, and he tries to block it, and he can't
        -- all he can do is hold it for a little, or change it from what it was
        trying to be, but it's like trying to stop a river -- only instead of a
        river, it's the whole ocean.

    [he is frowning]

        Have I made things hopelessly confusing?

Beren: [quick headshake]
        No -- not really. What -- When you said "trees," you weren't thinking
        about orchards or hawthorns or junipers, were you? Small trees?

    [she shakes her head in turn]

        That's . . . what I was afraid of. --What kind of trees?

Yavanna:
        I don't know what names have been given to them -- but they're probably
        most like oaks, of all the ones you're familiar with, though the roots
        are different. But they look somewhat like a particularly thick-boled
        and gnarled oak tree.

Beren: [hopefully]
        But -- not that tall, right?

Yavanna:
        Oh yes. Easily.

    [pause]

Beren: [apprehensive]
        How?

Yavanna:
        With their foreheads.

    [longer pause]

Beren:
        How big are they?

    [the Earthqueen shrugs]

Yavanna:
        Very.

    [wide-eyed, he doesn't answer, except with a quick shiver, and an appalled
    smile -- she looks at him curiously]

        What are you thinking?

    [for some reason this embarrasses him]

Beren: [flustered]
        Oh. I -- I was -- and this is just, um, hypothetical, even if it wasn't
        anyway already, because I don't want to, you understand -- but -- I was
        wondering how you'd go about taking one. Sorry.

Yavanna: [not offended in the least]
        But of course. You're his also. You could hardly help but wonder about it.

Beren: [frowning still more]
        --Mostly about what you'd do with it after. A whole village could hardly
        eat an animal big enough to plough over an oak tree like it was a shrub!
        And you couldn't make it into hams, either, not easily. I'm just croggled
        thinking about the technical problems of skinning something as big as a
        cottage. And what would you do with the bones? Make houses out of 'em?

    [she looks pensive for a moment]

Yavanna:
        Ye--es, I believe they do.

    [pause]

Beren:
        You mean -- somebody has?

Yavanna: [sad]
        Your people are very stubborn. And ingenious.

Beren:
        How?

Yavanna: [raising her hands]
        Hunting is not my Art. I gather it's quite dangerous, however it's done,
        and often the price is the hunter's life, so it isn't frequent -- a dire
        emergency, when the certainty of famine makes the likelihood of sacrificing
        a leader worthwhile. --Which is a fair bargain.

    [pause]

Beren: [wide-eyed]
        Okay, what I really want to know is, where do they live, and is it any
        way near Beleriand, or could they get there? Because this is really scary,
        even if it doesn't affect me directly.

    [she shakes her head, amused]

Yavanna:
        They only thrive where it's hot all year round -- that's where they were
        made for, since things grow there without a break. It's very far from
        where you lived -- beyond several Barriers, and a long ways south besides.
        And it's very unlikely that they would ever cross a Barrier -- they're not
        designed for climbing, but crushing, and they haven't much interest in
        traveling out of their own lands. --Another thing he failed to notice until
        it was too late.

    [the Earthqueen sounds very smug -- Beren gives a relieved sigh.]

Beren:
        That's good to hear. I guess if it were different they could've used
        them to knock down the Nightshade instead of trying to burn me out.

    [wistful]

        You know, I'd still kind of like to see one. From a safe distance.

    [frowning]

        I wonder if you could domesticate them . . . and what you'd do with them
        if you did, and how you'd feed them.

    [looking at her wryly]

        Now I'm trying to think how big of a barn you'd need to put them in.

    [the Hall. There are, as Nerdanel predicted, fewer interruptions and farther
    between; the audience is much more respectful, or at least attentive. In the
    background, the Sea-elf is dumping out the Youngest Ranger's quiverful of
    arrows and investigating his gear, examining its decoration and construction
    while he answers her questions, the two of them silhouetted against the
    illusory flames shining on the water.]

Luthien: [mildly exasperated]
        Look, Finrod, I simply don't know. I didn't choose the route, he chose
        it, and I couldn't correlate anything we passed to the maps in Nargothrond
        along the way -- all I was doing was holding on and holding my breath that
        we wouldn't meet any enemies.

    [frowning hard at the map]

        --Yes, I do remember, now, we did pass a big rock shaped like a stack of
        plates, with some bracken at their base.

Finrod: [pointing]
        That would be right there, then--

    [he looks sharply at Huan]

        Why did you go that way? It's a bit shorter, but the footing on that scarp
        is much worse than if you turn and follow the slope inland a bit here--

    [the Hound only pants and grins; the Princess of Gondolin leans back on the
    dais and calls over quietly to her cousins:]

Aredhel: [malicious smile]
        You do realize your brother is arguing travel plans with a dog, don't you?

Angrod: [very dry]
        At least he isn't going on about the Golden Beast.

Aegnor: [fatalistic]
        --Yet.

Luthien:
        At any rate, we got there, and I realized at once that my ideas of sneaking
        in undetected were hopeless given the design of the bridge and the approach
        to the Tower on the other side, and that we were going to have to brazen it
        out Huan's way after all.

    [she strokes Huan's ears affectionately]

        He was so brave. Any of them could have been his Doom, for all we knew, but
        he didn't let that make any difference to him. --I was so terrified.

    [with a shaky laugh]

        I didn't know one could be scared of so many different things, in so many
        different ways, all at once.

Finrod: [deceptively mild tone]
        And -- let me get this straight -- you were standing in front of the main
        gates, on the riverbank, using yourself as bait, projecting as loudly as
        you could through Sauron's defenses while crazed Werewolves came at you
        and Huan picked them off? That -- really -- was your plan?

    [Luthien nods]

Luthien:
        That's what I said.

Finrod:
        I know. I just want to make sure that wasn't one of the plans you rejected
        as being too unchancy and perhaps I was mistaken, surely you'd not have
        done anything that -- that--

Luthien: [meaningfully]
        Watch it, all right, you hear?

    [the living High King turns to the Doriathrin lord, as the latter winces
    yet again]

Finarfin: [fascinated]
        How your speech hath variance from ours all that dwell upon this shore!

Ambassador:
        . . .

Nerdanel: [nodding as she takes notes]
        Aye, the sense of it, that indeed is plain, as well the significance of
        every word its own, yet I confess the meaning of't all, cometh not unto
        the sense, when all are judged as words.

Ambassador: [very dry]
        The speech of mortals also has diverged from its original sources in our
        own pure tongue.

Nerdanel:
        Ah, I do comprehend me now -- this shall be among those fashionings which
        Lady Luthien declared in counsel her own willful keeping, that by'r very
        speech she should remind thee and ye ever of her true-love's self.

    [the Ambassador nods, grimly]

Luthien: [rueful smile]
        I'm sorry I broke down your castle, by the by. It -- I know it was theirs,
        now, but still, you did make it--

    [Finrod shrugs]

Finrod:
        It had outlasted its purpose. Better to remove the strategic value and
        deny it to Morgoth than leave it in the foolishly-optimistic hope that
        it could be made invulnerable -- not again, but as we once thought it.

Angrod: [much more respectful now]
        Er -- Luthien?

    [she turns towards him; he phrases his doubts very politely]

        You didn't -- well, really destroy it completely, did you? The whole Tower?

    [Luthien nods]

        Don't -- don't you just mean the main gate towers?

Luthien:
        Those were part of it.

    [pause]

        There were some edge bits still piled up. Of the -- the curtain, that's
        what you call a wall around a tower, right?

Angrod:
        . . .

Finrod: [wicked humour]
        Good thing I'm not a gambling Elf, hm? I told you it wasn't exaggeration.

Angrod:
        But -- the whole Fortress?!

Luthien:
        I had to free Beren. And . . . I was out of patience, by then.

Angrod:
        --But . . . how?

    [Luthien shrugs]

Luthien:
        It was just a matter of putting enough force into the words.

    [to Finrod, frowning]

        --What have the Enemy done to the language? It's as if every word was
        wrenched around to make it as painful-sounding as possible.

Finrod:
        Precisely so.

    [Luthien shivers, petting the Hound for comfort]

Luthien:
        The aura of the whole area . . .

    [pulling herself together]

        --I'm getting this out of order. At that point the Tower was very solid,
        gates and all. And full of Enemy minions. Which problem we were working
        on, right, Huan?

Huan:
        [mournful whine]

Finrod: [rueful smile]
        I never realized you had that kind of power, back in Doriath.

Luthien:
        Neither did I -- until I started trying to do things I'd never attempted
        -- or dreamt of. But at that moment I was only -- I hardly thought about
        my danger, the only thing that mattered was our success, that we might
        not be in time, even then--

    [she stops again, looking bleakly at the map, and the Hound licks her hand]

Finrod: [firmly]
        But you were.

    [his father turns his head away sharply, biting back comment]

Luthien:
        Only because of you. Draugluin came--

    [with a short, shaky laugh]

        It was funny -- I'd even used him in my spell, the one to make my hair
        grow, but he -- I don't know if I would have dared, if I had any idea
        how awful he was -- nothing like the glimpses of him we'd seen scrying
        Morgoth's defenses.

    [wide-eyed]

        It wasn't just the much-bigger-in-person part of him being there in
        person. He hated Huan. There was more -- anger, there, than -- he could
        tell. He was stronger than the others, they just came to me like moths
        to my hair-ornaments, but he could tell that Huan was -- he just knew.

    [shaking her head]

        I'm not the right person to tell this part. I -- it's all so muddled,
        now, so -- disjointed, like things seen by lightning-flash, I--

    [she raises her hands and let them fall in frustration; in the back row,
    Nienna's Apprentice looks up suddenly, out into the shadows of the Hall
    (not at the once-again-dark palantir)]

Steward: [austerely]
        Then who else, my Lady? Even were the Lord of Dogs willing, his narration
        should hardly prove more coherent, considering his own role in the night's
        action. It is most difficult to report on events themselves hurried and
        confused, as must any violent encounter in which one is one's self engaged
        inevitably prove to be. Your attempt at the least strives for unity and
        clarity -- whereas, were your lord to endeavor to make the same report,
        'twould either diverge into some half-dozen other narratives along the
        way besides, leaving all listeners entangled in the digressions, -- or else
        be some six words summation, as perchance, "We fought them. Oh -- we won."

    [this has the effect of making her smile despite her best intentions, looking
    down and closing her eyes in resistance]

Luthien:
        Yes, Beren has -- an interesting style, of recounting events. I remember
        one evening when we met, and I asked him what had happened that day, and
        he said, "Salamanders!" and then we made bannocks and I wondered what he
        meant by that and then we ate and I wondered if it was some human expression
        that I'd never heard of and then we went for a walk along the stream--

    [gesturing animatedly as she speaks]

        --and he started telling me about the first time he saw them, and his
        cousins told him some creepy little story about them being the ghosts of
        frogs, only he figured out pretty quickly that couldn't be true, and then
        he described all the different sorts of amphibians that lived in Dorthonion,
        and where, and then he started asking about the types of water-weed that
        grew in the Esgalduin, and then he showed me where he found a different