Bog's World

Altogether elsewhere

Forgileill’s Future

Being a faithful knight might mean that you just on being faithful without being told things

AA Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

Jadhrim dined privately with Fienthin. The former Carnc was quite interested to learn of the young princess’s lesson in the four precepts upon which the Nostir lived their lives. She was a little disappointed to hear that the Seldarine had chosen to deliver such a shock to Forgileill when she made her oath. “Forgiving the unrepentant is like drawing pictures on water.” Fienthin smiled.
“Where there is shame, there is hope of virtue.” She replied.
They both sipped their quith.
“Will she ever be ready, do you suppose ?” asked Jadhrim
“There is a cherry on the northern edge of the valley of Imladínen. It suffers longest the winter and blossoms last of all the trees in that valley. But being on the rim and in the sun for longer, it usually bears some of the best fruit.”
Jadhrim sat back and nodded, smiling slowly as she raised her cup to Fienthin in salute.
“A tree oft transplanted rarely bears a good harvest.”
Fienthin didn’t let her gentle smile waver for a moment.
“Change is the nature of things. Stasis is not the way of the flows, the way of Ghia or the way of the Nostir. Some things may endure for a very long time, Jadhrim, but none last forever, not even the universe itself.”

They waited for the others to arrive. The Chapel of Labellas was very plainly furnished. Some might say Spartan. However, at this time, the temples and religious precincts were one of the few places in the citadel that were not given over to housing visitors.

They were joined by Kcasamenzay, who bowed to Fienthin and sat down. Moments later by Alu Canath Nhi. Mankh Adfel Nhi knew that he was involved as his lyio’s Authîr, but was unused to informal meetings of quite this level. Arutha was present as the head of the house of Glordin. Jadhrim gestured casually and the quith jug poured out six measures. She let everyone reach for their own cup.

Alu Canath opened, “It has been suggested that I make Forgileill my ilin, that her somewhat irregular arrangements are formalised.” There was a pause. Arutha asked “What would the alternative be ?”
“She would be sent to Saironost early and her ilin released to find service elsewhere.”
Arutha considered before he spoke. “Mayhap that would be the best for the Clan and our allies. Should any rival Clan examine her arrangements, they would see her duplicity as ours and rightly consider us complicit. Because of who she is, the Empire would expect more of her, it would be her fault that the Clan would loose face on the Golden Hill. Those who are currently her ilin are equally at fault; they know the requirements and yet pin their fortunes to a renegade. As she leaves the life of ilin, so their stars will fall from the firmament, no other Lyio would have them.”

Mankh spoke up for her “To be intestate is not unusual in all the empire. She has done no worse than any other might in her shoes. She has even been denied aid by those within whose gift it was to aid her, and thereby has perhaps deserved some further opportunity.” He paused. “And despite their apparent complicity, her ilin would easily find a new bond, although it might be far away from Hisra.”

Alu Canath asked, “What of her then, is she ready ?”
Kcasamenzay gave a slight sigh, “Lord, she is young, but her impetuousness is beginning to give way to caution. She does learn well and learn from her mistakes as well as displaying the increasingly rare ability to learn from the mistakes of others. With the right guidance, she will make a good leader.”

Alu Canath noted “She is the scion of our benefactor and greatest ally, she brings a number of bows and steeds with her. This makes her an asset now and Hisra is short of ilin." Mankh nodded.
Arutha interjected. “She is rash, she cares little for things that do not concern her directly. Were she appointed, I would fear for the stability of the area in which she was deployed; troubles radiate from her as ripples on a smooth pond from a dropped stone.” It was his turn to pause. “Her presence is likely to be disruptive to the ilin who are her neighbours. I seriously doubt that she would take adequate care not to offend those who should not be offended, nor take sufficient interest in the concerns of those whom ilin exist to protect.”

Jadhrim shot her cousin a black look, he sat unmoved. She spoke. “Lord, I believe that it is because Forgileill is aware of her past failures that she will be an asset. Knowing that she has made mistakes in the past will make her work all the harder to perform in an exemplary manner in the future.”
“But what mistakes ?” Snapped Arutha. “What ever it is was that she did, it is so bad that you would not even tell me ! This indicates that it is something that should bar her from being ilin. Ever.”

Kcasamenzay’s voice was quiet and crystal clear. “I know her. Where she has been, the travails that she has suffered, the unpleasant thing that she was, against her will. It might have been her own fault, but it was also her own problem and she prevailed. Where you might not have, Arutha.” She paused. “Think on that before you question my judgement.”
“A caring brother would have some sympathy and concern for his youngest sibling, not just the possible impact on his Clan.” Added Fienthin. “Remember that the empire and its institutions will one day pass; the Nostir will still live in families, as they did before times.”

“Jadhrim, we served Celegorm together for over a century. Make sure that she is ready.” Said Alu Canath.
“Your will, Lord.” She replied, bowing low.
They all stood and left, Alu Canath first, then Fienthin, Kcasamenzay and Mankh. Arutha waited for Jadhrim, as the next senior, to leave before him. They were the last two in the room. Having waited until the others were out of earshot, she squared up to him and whispered. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you would do well to remember who you are.” And she turned on her heel and stalked out.

Arutha stood for a moment. He hadn’t just been playing devil’s advocate, he really believed that they were making a mistake; that his little sister, who had started out Bryn Fin as bumbling spoilt prima donna, had grown into something altogether more sinister. He knew who he was, but he didn’t know Forgileill any more and Kcasamenzay and Jadhrim were just too close to see the danger she presented.

Jukpûdhar

“Ilin oath is more than blood” Said Roh

C J Cherryh, The Gate of Iverl

The main events began before dawn. High in the Tirandamunda (Elephant Tower), the first of the mourners took in deep lung full of chilled Westilakken air. Splitting the pre dawn gloaming there was one ululating dolorous cry that seemed to go on forever. The sea gulls along the lakeshore road took to the sky, adding their raucous chorus to the opening of the mourning, setting off the population of the rookeries around the city. As if on cue, other voices within the city joined in with a great wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Celegorm had been Prince of Hisra for many centuries. He was directly related to Laru the Red, Dragon God of the Empire. He was a lord of the Celebrinoth. Following the hurried way in which Glordin’s Jukpûdhar had happened, the Gwathló would make up for it now. The other scions of the Gwathló and their Sindelie relatives followed the bier, carried by his closest lieutenants, as it left Aranost (the Citadel). Born on shoulders of Gothon Yla, Alu Canath Nhi and four more of his Carnc, Celegorm made a last tour of his city.

Next in line was the King of Perrenland. As the Lyio of the deceased, he was the chief of the unrelated mourners. Then came the body of the ilin of Hisra and the owners, sponsors and officers of the Brandenheer, all shedding the tears that long tradition of Jukpûdhar requires. And of course, where the Emperor goes, the game of houses follows. All of the great houses of the Empire had sent representatives to convey their grief at Celegorm’s passing.

Citizens of Hisra from both the city of Westil and far away fell in behind the good and great of the Empire, their wailing, mock self flagellation and tooth grinding filling the air with jarring and frankly disturbing cacophony. Within the Empire it is viewed as necessary and healthy to weep in such a manner at such times.

By the time that the sun was half way to noon, the procession had covered almost all of the city, the mourners, official and unofficial, genuinely moved and those moved by duty, had fallen in behind. Priests from many faiths bore fetishes on arks, adding their songs, hymns and chants. Most of those within sight of the bier were silent and solemn. Nearly two miles away, towards the back, the crowds were riotous with a carnival atmosphere, entertainers tumbled and mimed as bards and choirs ran through a recognisable Jukpûdhar related repertoire. Generally, people take their cue from the chief mourners. In accordance with tradition, most of the ilin classes discussed in reverend tones the life and great works of Celegorm, assessing his place in the pantheon of Celebrinoth who had gone before him.

The procession marched out of the city and straight towards the Vesve along the Ulriaweg. There is a Beacon Hill to the north of the road, it takes two hours to reach at slow walk. The bier and the mourners mounted the hill, with Celegorm taking pride of place at the summit. Forgileill was stood within arms reach of the pall bearers, pressed up by the weight of ilin behind. The crowds opened and various denominations of priests came through.

The highest ranking clerics of the Seldarine prayed and chanted. Slowly all the other Nostir (and the Pernostir who leant that way) joined in with the lament. It was a cry impeaching the Seldarine to welcome one of their own. The crowds hushed as their voices stretched the limit of human hearing. As silence descended once more, Abyzaran, a Kalkhur Shaman performed his noisy, smoky rite to ensure that Celegorm left the fields we know and wouldn’t return to disturb his successors. He was followed by hierophants and then other Flanne Priests of the Circle delivering benedictions for the security that Celegorm and his kin had provided not just to the people of Hisra but to all the Flanaess. The trees of the Vesve were suddenly colonised by crows. The air went black with rooks, ravens and their ilk, all to a deafening cawing crescendo. Thousands of birds temporarily turned bright afternoon to shaded twilight, the noise blotted out thought and memory. Inexplicably the eyes of the mourners on the hill were drawn to the open avenue by which all the priests had ascended. At the foot of the hill were a large group of between twenty and thirty Blackrobes. They said nothing and did not move to gain the hill via the open path through the crowd. They just stood there. Afterwards the mourners at the foot of the hill could not remember their arriving and had no clear recollection of their departure. But they were there and they paid their respects in silence as the corvids had paid theirs with rasping voices.

Ascarnil Gwathló then led the congregation in commemorating the life, reputation and great deeds of the Prince of Hisra. This was done in rhyme and song¹. Many others took their turn to add more to what has already been said by the chief mourner, beginning with the forlorn looking King of Perrenland. By the time those who felt the need to had added their piece it was dusk. Slowly and without drama the crowds dispersed as Celegorm’s blood relations watched the sun go down on his face for the last time. Alu Canath placed a thick yellow velvet cloth over the body of the one who had been his Lyio since the Dagor Tarsil.

As the human element of the Jukpûdhar retreated for the night, their cries and tears spent. As the Pernostir of the empire retired, their duty to a Lyio of the Celebrinoth done, His family shouldered Celegorm for one last journey into the Vesve.

Each day of Jukpûdhar begins in sorrow (even despair) and proceeds in no particular order through expressions of pride, gratitude, thanks, wistful remembrance, solemn and joyous commemoration, veneration and faith. These are displayed in uncontrolled outpourings of grief, solemn and joyous procession, music, prayer, songs, hymns, chants, liturgy, collective acts of religious worship and both private and public retrospection. It is a religious ritual, common to the belief systems prevalent in the Empire. The ritual is not prescriptive in any way – people can drift in and out of the ritual at any point and although it does have formulaic prayers and litanies, these are not set in stone. The whole process is rather organic.

The Gwathló returned to the Citadel at dusk the following day, saying little. The third day was given over to feasting. The mood of all those who were gathered was re-set from mournful introspection to forward looking. Forgileill was able to take time to find her friends for a short while. Of course, as one of the Gwathló, when she went to feast, it would be in the same hall as the Emperor. All of them would technically be at the same feast, of course. However there was always a subtle difference.

There was then a lull for a week or so. Forgileill and the others mustered daily with other ilin of Clan Gwathló and of Hisra. Horses were turned out and space was found for the ilin of all the other Lords who had come. The fields around Westil hadn’t seen such a body of ilin since the Celebrinoth began to muster for the Dagor Tarsil.

The Lords rode out and often met, conducting the business of running the empire and dynastic manoeuvring whilst all about their ilin restrained themselves from churning the entirety of the wilya to hoof pocked mud.

Also during that week, yicduroh were re-laced. All the yellow silken braid was gathered up, it would be dyed and used again for something else by the cloth merchants of Westil. New braids laced lamellae together in proper colours for their home regions – either colours of house or state, depending on their own traditions and their lyio’s wishes.

And all the while the lyrond of the Citadel was closed. It reopened, not under the dancing wolf of the Gwathló, but under the very similar wolf’s head of the Nhi. Alu Canath, before the Emperor and other Lords of the Empire, claimed the Carnc of Hisra as ilin. Those ilin who served directly were already forsworn to him as Authîr, but there were others who were included.

The next day, borrowing his ilin’s lyrond, the emperor claimed Alu Canath as his ilin. Forgileill was in the forefront of the seated ilin (Carnc, lords and favoured scions of the great houses) for both events. Thranduil was also in attendance, towards the back, with the other Lominlindi, but still a guest.

Over the last two years, the shape of the empire had changed greatly. Three elder statesmen of the Empire had passed, three mighty and reverend Princes of the Sindelie. The Gwathló had shed three quarters of their land within the empire; The Yla, the Irien and Nhi had all been elevated to the Imperial Council.

Despite the Emperor departing within a week, following Alu Canath’s promise to attend upon him at mid winter, it was a month or more before the last of the visitors left. All the Carnc of Hisra had returned to their wilya.

[1] The better the style of the cant, the more honour there is for all involved.