Part Four – Encourage

To do list.
Finalise council agenda, strategy and resources.
Copies = 10
Lord Círdan re. complaint, naval rations. Suggest refer D. Not my job. Motivate.
Lord Glorfindel:
Amalek
Hillside grain, seeds, veg and herb
Re. flax.
Sketch, trolls, cows, dog, Gondolin.
Settlers.
Finish notes – Stone working after the Manner of the Dwarves.
Learn: Harad, 3rd intermediate period, part 2!!!
Kitchen scraps for cat.

To: Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin.

Dear Lord Glorfindel,

I hope my letter finds you well, and that there was no problem accommodating a slightly larger party than normal. I would have preferred to send a mule-drawn cart, but this idea was rejected by Lord Pathenien for security reasons. A few well-laden mules seemed an acceptable alternative both to me and to Amalek, who you will already have met.

Amalek’s family has farmed for many centuries in the region of Harlindon where I grew up. I have cousins who live there still, and my sister and I are regular Beltane guests. Amalek and I met at the local midsummer fair which, falling concurrent with Beltane, is one of the main events enjoyed by both the elven and mortal sides of the community. On my last visit he mentioned he intended to hand over the running of his farm to his sons – he has two – and wondered what he would do with his days. He was delighted when I approached him with the prospect of being a part of this venture. He is a good person, is in his middle years (as they reckon time’s passage), honest to the point of bluntness, and very hard working.

The grain sample turns out to be a form of wild barley, not a first choice for elven consumption, but edible, and its presence implies fertile soil. Amalek will have thoughts on the subject. I have filled most of your seed order as best I can and have also included flax seeds, to which you referred in your last letter. Flax is an amazingly useful plant. The seeds can be eaten and used for cattle fodder, the fibres can be woven into fine cloth, rope, even paper, and the straw can be used for brick-making or in house daub. I found a fascinating paper on the subject, which I enclose for your attention.

The illustrations also indicate it produces very pretty blue flowers. Strangely, I do not recall ever having seen them, although I have a clear memory of the stench of the stalks soaking in the local pond.

I think you might want to pursue a variety of building methods in the project you have outlined to me. It would be possible, if the limestone outcrop is of a sufficient size, to make use of it in places that require strengthening, but there may be sufficient loose stones for dry walling – perhaps near the river? Collecting stones is far less arduous than cropping limestone, a task to which I think you might be reluctant to set your civilian population as it has implications of punishment and hard labour… and your warriors will plainly be otherwise occupied. Besides stone, you could also include wattle and daub, logs, wood frames… the possibilities are endless. The result may not be of uniform design and appearance, but would make for a uniquely eclectic mix, and be less restricted by a possible scarcity of resources and labour.

On that subject – we have a huge influx of refugees here in Lindon, and the Council has expressed itself in favour of sending the more adventurous of these to Imladris. The northern lands, as you have no doubt been told, cannot support a large population as the soil tends to be rocky and barren and the winter temperatures extreme. As I understand it, an increase in your population would mean expanded skills and, of course, more hands for your farming and building projects. It would also relieve the pressure on our over-stretched resources here. (The price of lamp oil has more than tripled in the last two months, due to the uneven balance between supply and demand.) Assuming your interest, how best could we go about making Imladris appear an attractive resettlement prospect?

I enjoyed your sketch – it was more talented than your remark led me to expect. I thought the sharply sloping roof an excellent idea. Is that thatch? I considered asking if the elf scrubbing himself in the nearby stream was a self portrait, but, as there is no dog in attendance, I assume not.

I suppose trolls could attack cows? I admit I never had cause to give the matter much thought before. I was never entirely sure trolls existed, but not believing in the existence of something simply because one has not seen it is a narrow-sighted view to take of the world, one with potentially disastrous consequences. I trust the herd is doing well, and that the bulls have settled down and are behaving themselves? As you gathered, I have always had a fondness for cows – such big and yet peaceful, contented creatures. And they have beautiful eyes, too.

In answer to your question, Lord Círdan received the warning that we should leave Sirion – it is said that in those days he talked often with Lord Ulmo himself. He sent a messenger ahead and then he, his majesty, and others came with boats to help evacuate us as we did not have anywhere near enough vessels in Sirion for the entire population. I know I look back through a child’s eyes, but it was a huge settlement – the survivors of the coast cities, of Nargothrond, Doriath, and Gondolin, were all living there. By the time they arrived from Balar, we needed no warning. The land was moving and groaning under our feet, and the sea was higher and angrier than we had ever seen it. When I became separated from my mother and sister, I thought I would never see them alive again. His majesty found me as he was leaving. I was alone and crying, so he picked me up under his arm and took me on board his ship. Apparently I bit him.

My strongest memory, strangely, is of a house roof being blown across a field, and of the wind howling.

Your reference to the stories we hear about your city was quite interesting. Those who lived in Gondolin have always claimed it was a city of immense beauty, a copy of fabled Tirion, and that life was the epitome of the way it should be lived by elven kind on this shore. Stories are told of food fit for kings being served even to the lowliest stoneworker, such as roast pheasant, delicately grilled trout, intricate desserts, and of arts and culture that make our modern attempts pale in comparison. These and much more are outlined in a book called Fabled Gondolin, written by Demmion, one of King Turgon’s councillors, which is regarded as a standard work on the subject.

I have read poetry that spoke of the ‘fair walls and gleaming spires of doomed Sirion’ too, which, to state it politely, is a vast exaggeration. I suppose people like to look back kindly on that which they have lost?

Have you thought of trying to teach Háran to herd sheep, or would he be too rough with them? I know that some mortals have dogs specially trained to help work with them.

I enclose notes taken from a book I found on stone working as perfected by the dwarves. How reliable the bulk of the information is, I could not say, but I found the suggestions about drywall building in particular very interesting. Much of this was first applied to cities in the great cavern realms, but should be equally applicable outside.

If Lord Elrond should happen to pass through Imladris at any point before the messenger returns here, could you please let me know, and ask him to send word to his majesty of his current whereabouts? We seem to have mislaid him. Otherwise, I look forward to hearing how matters progress.

Yours,
Erestor.

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Dear Erestor,

Grilled trout? Bred in a fully enclosed valley high in the mountains where the water supply froze over in winter? I am sure my mother would have been overjoyed; she often lamented the lack of fish in our diet. People talk the most amazing nonsense. I vaguely remember a court scribe by the name of Demmion. Could you send me a copy of his book? I dined at the Palace on numerous occasions, and would love to learn more about these wondrous delicacies I somehow seem to have missed out on.

Forgive my poor attempt at humour, but at any moment I expect the tent to be whipped up from above me and carried off. This is our first acquaintance here with the east wind, and after three days it shows no sign of abating. It is currently late afternoon, the air is dust-filled and damp with spray from the waterfall, and anything not stringently secured has already found its way into the river or else down the valley. Tempers are, understandably, frayed. Háran hates it. He is sitting behind me with his nose covered by his tail and looks as miserable as most of us feel.

The only people going about their day with any kind of comfort are those already living across the river in the new houses – built originally as experiments before we began more serious work here. Which will teach us, I suppose. The need for haste in creating permanent structures has never been more apparent. I insisted that those with small children be given first choice of these homes, and currently they house several adults and a horde of small children, including Sael’s wife and his young son, Lindir. I have parted with both of my good winter cloaks and several other items of clothing and bedding to help make life easier over there and have encouraged the better-provisioned of my warriors to do the same.

The way the wind funnels through here means we urgently need to create windbreaks of some kind if we are to go on living in the gorge. This whole experience brings to mind a certain rock passage high in the Encircling Mountains, an important watch area, almost a pass. When the north wind blew, patrols drew lots to see who would brave it. I joined them on occasion – good for morale – and cordially hated every moment. I have been sketching ideas for frames — I think I need to show them to Sael, see what he thinks. (example enclosed)

I really like your idea of several building methods being used on the main house and garrison. Not only will it speed work up considerably, but I think it might fit well into the surroundings. I somehow don’t see Imladris as suited to gleaming limestone facades or even to something as warmly solid as his majesty’s rose granite palace, though I like the permanence it suggests. The only granite I had ever seen before was grey – part of Vinyamar was built of granite, and very grim it looked to newcomers accustomed to the softer shades of Tirion.

I liked Vinyamar though. I enjoyed being beside the sea.

Amalek declared our efforts to prepare beds for the vegetables to be ‘barely adequate’, but he has recruited a group of young girls who are planting and weeding with great enthusiasm. It is his contention that vegetables grow better for women. Would this be a mortal superstition, do you think? He also insists planting be done during the waxing moon. He feels the hillsides further down the valley will benefit from a thorough clearing, turning over, and the addition of fertiliser… heavy work, but necessary. You will be pleased to hear he echoes your idea of driving calves down into the valley to form a ‘local herd’. He also seems to like my proposal that we terrace the steeper areas, something we did to great effect along the western slopes in Gondolin.

Some of the trees have to be cleared. Although the concept of felling trees is foreign to their way of life, even the Silvans understand the need for this and, once we decide where, they have agreed to — do what has to be done. We need more space for crops, for homes, for grazing. I pray we will be able to find a good balance between our needs and that of the forest. Amalek tells me land that has supported trees for centuries would need several years and a degree of care to bring it to the point where it will be useful to us, and this is why he wants cows in the valley. He plans to plant grass in those areas and let them graze, incidentally fertilising the newly cleared land.

I assume we can keep the mules? It was two days’ work to get them down here, and no one wants anything to do with a repeat performance in the opposite direction. Anyhow, Amalek has plans for them. We need to give more thought to that trail actually. A sure-footed horse can easily be led down if it trusts the person doing the leading, but we need to clear it and also make it more defensible. I think if we could build in a couple of very sharp turns and keep watchers stationed at all times, it would suffice.

The Council’s decision to send new arrivals in Lindon back east to Imladris – does this mean the valley would officially become something more than a military stronghold? As you know, I have been advocating the garrison be coupled with a more or less permanent civilian settlement, a sort of outpost of the King’s power, so you certainly find me in favour. I cannot imagine why anyone would not find the idea of living in Imladris appealing. It is a place of great beauty, with woods and waterfalls, sheltering mountains, arable land, and it is completely secure. The fact that development costs are funded by His Majesty should also appeal to those many unfortunates who lost everything to the Enemy’s advances.

No need to mention the east wind, nor the current lack of anything more than the most primitive ablution and cooking facilities. Those things will come – in time. The more people, the easier to expand. Right?

That Lord Ulmo might have been in contact with Círdan hardly surprises me. Lord Ulmo seems to quite enjoy involving himself in our affairs, for good or for ill. The whole experience of seeing the world turned upside down must have been appalling, and not just for a child. I had not realised you knew His Majesty for most of your life. Did he keep in touch while you and your family lived in Harlindon, or did you only meet him again once you moved to Mithlond? And – you mention a sister. Does she live with you in Mithlond?

Yes, I can be quite annoyingly curious. I apologise in advance.

I am not certain Háran would be much use at herding sheep. He seems to see them as playmates, lacking other dogs, and is trying to make friends with them. Also I admit I have no idea where one would begin with such lessons – perhaps Amalek might know? We have talked of little beyond farming so far, but I look forward to getting to know him better. His Sindarin is almost as strange as my own, according to Sael. Amazing how much a language can change in less than two millennia – though of course we spoke Quenya in society in Gondolin, while the Sindarin we learned was from the coast dwellers who travelled with us into the mountains. Probably unlike anything else spoken in Middle-earth after a while. I find if people speak quickly I still need to concentrate to follow what they are saying.

I have told everyone to keep alert for signs of Lord Elrond during their patrols, and I will send word if we learn anything. We seldom see him, but he regularly sends his wounded and any homeless war victims he finds to us down here.

I hope you are well, and that things remain peaceful in Lindon itself. I hear very little of the overall progress of the war down here, a fact that sometimes leaves me feeling rather cut off from events that my warrior training instinctively tells me I should be a part of. I suppose we each have our own responsibility, and developing this valley is mine. Thank you very much for the notes, the books, and all the very sound and helpful advice you are so generous in offering me. I find myself looking forward to the courier producing the mail pouch with as much enthusiasm as the rest of the warriors, even though I have no family or close friends over here. I’m grateful, also, for your ongoing encouragement, which I appreciate perhaps more than you realise. Other than your letters and the occasional note from Lord Elrond, I seem to have been left to get on with things here, which can be a little intimidating at times.

Best wishes.
Glorfindel of Gondolin.

PS. No, the elf in the illustration is not a self portrait. My hair is longer and I sadly lack the modesty to bathe in a river with half my clothes on. And, as you so astutely noted – no dog.

Glorfindel.

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Part 5

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Beta: Red Lasbelin