Seregrían and Aifiolossë stood together in the Grand Hall as Teahesto entered with the mysterious guest, Luminere. The elf-woman slowly dropped her cowl to reveal a fair but solemn face, framed by smooth dark hair with traces of silver, eyes aglow and dancing in the lights of the hall.
Teahesto broke the silence. “Ladies, may I present Luminere. Luminere, here is Seregrían, the Lady of House Bar-en-Acharn.”
Seregrían nods in greeting, “Luminere. Welcome to Torech Besruth. Here is Aifiolossë, my Huntress and champion.” Aifiolossë dipped her head in greeting. Lunimere nodded in reply and when she spoke, her voice was high with a hint of melody, but even and not a little mocking in tone.
“Seregrían, the Blood-queen. Bar-en-Acharn, the House of Revenge. And Torech Besruth, the Bitch’s Lair. Such hate I hear, such ancient and bitter hate. And yet, the names belie you, lady. You are with child, you are not unloved; Elves of the High Kindred in your company; and the hall is warm and welcoming, and feels much fellowship and joy. You are a riddle, with each part more puzzling than the last. I thank you truly for consenting to my visit.”
“And you, in your turn, bring riddles as well,” Seregrían replied, her eyebrow arching. “We shall solve them together, I think; but first, hospitality is the order of the day. Come, Luminere, we shall drink to welcoming. Teahesto, might I impose upon you to bring wine? The Duillond Gold, I think.”
“Of course, Your Ladyship,” Teahesto said with a small grin as he moved off. The three women walked to the table and sat, Seregrían in her white chair and inviting Luminere to sit at her left hand; Aifiolossë sat at her right, unfolding a map and a scroll she produced from her robe. Teahesto approached them bearing four goblets and a golden bottle, pouring the wine and passing it round.
“To the welcomed guest!” Seregrían said in toasting, and they all drank.
“As I said, Lady, this mansion is welcoming, one can feel its air,” Luminere said. “Teahesto mentioned to me you had raised a great House; I see he did not exaggerate.”
“The labors of this Household are the work of many hands,” Seregrían replied. “I merely provide the guidance and direction; it is all those who dwell here that make a house a home. In a manner of speech, my vocation demanded the location; the Duillond Archives are but a short ride from here.”
“I am also aware of your reputation of a mistress of lore. Your works on Mortals are quite... extensive, to say the least.”
“They have the virtue of being the most current and accurate as possible - though I do confess to having to overcome certain... personal biases, shall we say?”
“As did my sister, but I am sure you are aware of that part of her story.”
Seregrían breathed out a puff of breath, then plunged forward. “Yes... I received your letter, and I know of your consent to my conditions. For that, I thank you. But now, I must ask: what interest, other than the obvious, would you have with your sister's effects?”
“I am most curious about the stones she carried,” Luminere said. “They were not the ones she was originally attuned to.”
“Oh indeed? And this is out of the norm for those of rune-lore?”
“Quite. A rune-keeper is attuned to the stones they carry, which is usually for life. When she originally left the order, she left her stones with me. I have kept them.”
“’Left the Order', you say… intriguing. You and she are, or were a part of some secret society, or covenant? I am not unfamiliar with such; I, myself, am the last of the Gwaith-en-Gelydh, the Lore-masters of Balar.”
“There is an order amongst the Rune-keepers that is devoted to the notion that a Mortal shall never be attuned, and thus all stones must be accounted for.”
“Truly? How fascinating,” Seregrían said. “And how does the Order account for the numbers of Mortals, of Dwarves and Men, who study the powers of rune-craft?”
“They are the exception, for the power of the runestones was originally discovered by a collaboration of Elves and Dwarves.” Seregrían's eyebrows rose at this.
"This is my understanding, as well,” Aifiolossë said. “Dwarves have their own order of rune-lore. They are if anything, more secretive than ours.”
“When it comes to the power of the Rune-stones, the Elves and Dwarves are in agreement,” Luminere added. “They must never be attuned to any but an Elf or a Dwarf.”
Aifiolossë nodded sagely, “I believe this tradition has its origins in the Elder Days, when there was more cooperation between the kins.”
“So it would seem,” Seregrían said, “and these Orders have safeguarded this lore down the ages, even to this day?”
Luminere nodded. “The answers lie with the stones themselves. The power they contain is potentially beyond measure and yes, the order has maintained this lore closely.”
Seregrían sighed, then, “I am about to ask an indelicate question, but it must be asked, to pursue this further: what do you know of Gilmorwen's demise?”
“As was told to me, second hand from your husband through Teahesto, is that she died in an encounter with a wizard on Ost Barandor,” Luminere said. “The account implies that the stones failed her, but proper attunement would never allow it.''
Seregrían's eyes widened, then hardened. “What... tale... is this! One of the Istari!?”
Luminere nodded. “What do you know of them?”
“Enough to know they would not dabble in such horrid uses of power! They only reveal their true might in times of great need - and I suspect that need was not great in this matter!”
“Well, that is true of most of them - thus investigation into this matter is most important, as you can see.''
“Gilmorwen also engaged in acts unbecoming an Elf - torture and brutalization!” Seregrían said with rising heat. “'She took obscene delight in inflicting pain - acts worthy of a Kinslayer!!” she nearly spat the word.
Luminere nodded sadly, “Not completely unknown to our kind, but surely a sign of madness.”
“No, not unknown at all,” Seregrían snarled. “And you would have me believe the timely interference of a Wizard spared my beloved from further abuse at her hands?”
“It is no less believable that he would marry so far above himself,” Luminere countered. “Fate has woven an unusual thread for him.”
When Seregrían spoke again, her voice was icy and low. “If what you say is true, about her stones being inferior to the ones she first bore, then perhaps her fate was of her own hand? And not some chance intervention? Cutch explained to me that her final assault upon him rebounded back upon her, and she immolated herself - would Cutch lie??”
Aifiolossë interjected, raising her voice a notch. "Peace, please, both of you! It is clear several parts the tale have it wrong,” Aifiolossë said as she consulted her map and notes. "'We must consider all the facts with great care lest we be deceived. When did this battle occur?”
“According to Cutch, this encounter occurred six days before we rescued him.” Seregrían said, struggling past her anger.
Teahesto had been silent all this time, but now joined in. “I was with Cutch during part of his escape from Ost Barandor. His account to me plainly stated Gilmorwen was mad, brought about by obsession and rage.”
“I can only speculate on that,” Luminere said, “and for all our sakes, that is not sufficient. I would ask to examine the stones. Your husband could only tell what he saw...something else may be hidden. Please note, Seregrían,” she said as she extended her hand, “I ask, not demand.”
Seregrían was struck for a moment by her words: I ask, I do not command - how many times had she said that to the Household? That was the moment she decided…
