Dawn rose above the gables and spires of Torech Besruth. Captain Teahesto alighted from his mount in the courtyard of the grand manor and walked inside, the doors unusually open at this hour. He walked into the Gallery and down the corridor, entering the expanse of the Grand Hall. Cheerful hearth light lit the room, but he could see another glow from flickering candles and lamps through the far archway. Crossing the hall, he entered the Library and stood patiently under the arch, looking into its circular space.
There in the midst of the library he beheld Seregrían, the mistress of the manor and Lady of House Bar-en-Acharn. She was slowly pacing the room, circling a table strewn with open books and half-rolled scrolls, an ancient-looking tome in one hand and counting on the fingers of the other hand. She was speaking to herself, muttering in the Elven-tongue, a debate within her formidable mind.
Teahesto politely knocked on the wooden arch to get her attention. “Maer aure, hiril nin,” he said softly. Seregrían looked up from her research and smiled gently.
“Ah, Teahesto,” she greeted, “Come in, Captain. Forgive me, I was rather engrossed. I received a letter from our, well, ‘mutual friend’, and was readying myself for the encounter.”
Teahesto nodded as he entered. “Your Ladyship. I wished to meet with you this morning; I have brought her, she had a long ride and arrived in the night. She is guesting at the bungalow. Shall I bring her to you?”
Seregrían sighed, then nodded. “Yes, more delay serves no one. But hearken, did I not hear someone else in the Hall?” The two elves passed into the Hall and there in the Salon sat Aifiolossë, reclining on the sofa by the hearth, rising to greet the two.
”Ah, my Huntress!” Seregrían said smiling. “Maer aure, mellon nin. I am actually glad to have both of you in company this morning.”
“Good day to you, Aifiolossë,” Teahesto said in greeting.
“Greetings, Captain, and once again, young Seregrían,” Aifiolossë said. “I came as soon as I received your message. I was concerned at its tone, vague as it was; what are these portents you hinted at?”
“Portents indeed,” Seregrían said, 'I am expecting a visitor... a most intriguing one, at that - oh child, not again...” she winced and clutched her middle, eliciting worried stares from the others, which Seregrían dismissed with a wave.
Seregrían crossed to the Scullery and seized a loaf of bread and used a spatula to smear it with honey. “It seems my daughter's appetites have changed once more; I cannot seem to get enough sweetness to stop her demands. I have devoured every Berry-blast pie that our Royzenberry has made; nothing remains but crumbs.” She returned and flopped gracelessly onto the sofa, eating the honeyed bread and licking her fingers.
Teahesto and Aifiolossë could only smile. Teahesto fetched three goblets of water and offered it to Seregrían, who accepted gratefully. Aifiolosse smiled her thanks as he sat next to her.
“Hannon le, hothron nin,” Seregrían said. “I must explain this situation, though Teahesto knows this already. As you know, my dear Cutch has Elven-blood in his lineage, but we had little notion of any relatives yet living or present in these lands. Apparently, there is one left. It would seem that his grandmother, Gilmorwen - she whose remains we discovered at Ost Barandor - had a sister; and this sister, Luminere by name, desires to see her sister's effects.
“Now, I sent Cutch away on an errand, so as to spare him any ill will or impact. I have no idea how this Luminere will react to my husband, or my daughter, given her sister's mad rage. So, to have both you and the Captain here comforts me.”
Aifiolossë looked from one to the other as she listened. “Tell me, do you expect there to be trouble? Or shall we be here merely for moral support?”
“One or the other, I hope; both, should things turn ill,” Seregrían said. She placed a hand on her stomach and puffed out a breath. “I shall receive her now, Captain…”
“Are you sure you are ready?'” Teahesto asked, and Seregrían nodded. “I will fetch her,” and he rose to leave. Seregrían struggled to her feet and walked to her chair at the High Table, Aifiolossë holding her arm out in support.
“It seems you know something,” Aifiolossë said. “You do not trust this Luminere, am I right?”
“Yes,” Seregrían said, “and a harsh lesson at that. You see, Gilmorwen was of the Sindar, but her black heart was like unto the Kinslayers; long may Mandos hold her...”
Aifiolossë smiled softly and spoke with gentle chiding. “So, even after your heart and wisdom have grown, your ancient rage has yet to cool. You have forgiven both Teahesto and myself for our heritage, and at that I marvel; am I not of the Kinslayers’ blood as well?”
“That is an unfair likening, and you know it well. By your deeds and your friendship have you proven your heart – have I not also done the same, to your eyes?”
“Indeed, you have; else I would not travel in your company, young one, let alone consent to stand as your champion – which, if I have not said in so many words, I am humbled by your trust.”
“As I am humbled in my turn by your love, dear friend,” Seregrían said, laying a hand on Aifiolossë’s shoulder, she responding in kind. After a moment, Aifiolossë spoke again.
“Tell me, I do not know her, this Luminere. Was she in Beleriand before the fall, as we were?” A polite cough sounded, and both women looked to see Teahesto entering the hall, along with an elleth cowled and cloaked.
“We shall soon know...”, Seregrían said.
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