The Bell Tolls for Me 75: Exile

The journey was much less arduous than Isabella had been predicting. She didn’t know much of sailing, but a few of the sailors educated her on why what Valerio was doing was so spectacular. Shifting sea ice, unpredictable storms, and rapidly changing weather could block or damage vessels with little warning. Even in summer, there was extreme cold and limited daylight in the frigid north—both a sailor’s nightmare. Yet Valerio persevered, and not once did their ship suffer unduly.

Isabella wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting upon arriving at the other continent that Valerio had spoken of. The Sylvath Delta, the Ithilian… she had pictures of city beyond imagining in her mind, a great civilization that was entirely foreign to her own. Instead, as they travelled up the river’s delta to the city located upstream, what she saw was a rather familiar style of docks leading to a rather familiar style of city wall.

“Were you expecting something different?” Valerio asked her, reading her mind. She looked over to him. “These people received an education based off what I sent over from your kingdom. Naturally, there’s going to be a lot of overlap. But within it, the people are different, and beyond it…” He gestured elsewhere, and she followed his finger.

There were trees of a type that she’d never seen before. She saw a huge, lumbering animal with a spike on its nose—and from the look if it, it grew naturally. The treescape, the bushes, the flowers; nothing was like what she’d seen in Dovhain.

“Unbelievable…” Arthur said, giving voice to her thoughts. “I’ve never heard of… no one’s written of… how…?”

As Arthur was trapped in disbelief, Isabella was focused on the relevant. “I thought that the journey to arrive would be longer. How far away is it is continent, that even a detour takes only a week?” she asked, curious how it’d remained undiscovered if it was so close.

Valerio snorted. “If I were an ordinary seaman, it would have taken months. Magic and other advantages can shorten the journey tremendously.” He watched the distance. “I did so miss this place. It’s a lot more dangerous than more civilized lands, but there’s no denying that it has a certain charm that I’ve missed.” He wrapped one arm around her, then said, “You’ll be well enough to take a tour soon.”

Isabella took a step forward eagerly to check it out, but her legs had weakened to the point that she stumbled. Valerio caught her.

“Easy now,” he said gently. “Here.”

He provided her the cane that had been found aboard. It didn’t exactly lessen any burden, but it helped her maintain her balance. Valerio stood at her side supporting her with his arm as they walked off the boat and onto the familiar docks. Isabella felt both uncomfortable and somewhat relieving to be proceeding without an excessive procession of guards. They had taken the second ship and headed back to the mainland. Their retinue consisted only of Valerio, Arthur, Randolph, and Sosen, who perched on Randolph’s head. Her escort guard was stunned into silence, taking in the sights. She had considering taking Gaspar, but he was of more use to her in the mainland, laying the groundwork for any return.

When they alighted on the docks, waiting ahead of them were two figures. One was a familiar face—Roderick. The other was a tall, willowy blonde woman. Isabella’s eyes were drawn right to her ears, which must’ve been nearly half a foot long. They were sharp, angular, stiff, but they didn’t detract from her charm. All of her features were sharper and leaner than most Isabella had met.

The woman said something as Isabella stared, but it was in a language that she didn’t recognize. She thought it somewhat harsh on the ears—far more throaty utterances than the language of Dovhain or Ambrose.

“If you’re not going to be polite, you can head back,” Valerio said firmly. “You know that she doesn’t speak the elven language. And I know that you do speak our language. Be decent, yeah?”

The woman inhaled deeply, but said nothing more as she looked at the boat behind them.  

“This is my sister, Effie,” Roderick said in her stead. “I ask that you forgive her impropriety. She’s still quite young. She lacks the grace and bearing that you possess, Isabella.”

Isabella could tell from the tone that it was playful ribbing, and smiled politely.

“I assume that my estate is ready to receive us?” Valerio said, gesturing beyond.

“It is,” Roderick confirmed. “But the Lómethar wants to meet her first. They know of the situation, but they’re highly insistent on this meeting.”

Isabella looked at Valerio, asking a tacit question. Did that word mean a leader of some kind?

“The Lómethar is a… council of sorts,” Valerio told her. “But instead of being appointed by a king, they’re elected by and from the people. Each fill different roles in elven society.”

“And ever since Valerio’s arrival, it has expanded dramatically to accommodate the growing needs of our people,” the woman, Effie, finally spoke. She had not a hint of any accent, just as Roderick. “More and more people owe their prominence to Valerio’s actions. Don’t expect an inquisitive.”

“Inquisition,” Roderick corrected.

Effie only turned and began to walk away down the docks. Isabella looked beyond, at the city walls—many people were crowding, but had been kept restrained by some guards. All of the people Isabella saw had the same willowy, lean physique that Effie had, and the same sharp features.

“Let’s go.” Valerio set off walking, leading Isabella along.

***

Isabella had been worried about the crowd. The moment they passed by, the people began to throw bugs at them. It sounded harsh, yet it wasn’t—it was a manner of celebrating.

“It takes them days to collect these,” Roderick explained as they walked. “Traditionally, it’s to honor returning Thalvassë, who’ve claimed victory in battle. These days, there aren’t many battles anymore. Victories come as we expand our fields of crop and add new sections to the city. If you find a blue one, I recommend eating it. They’re quite the delicacy—though, most save them for themselves.”

The bugs that they threw glowed brightly in myriad colors and floated gently through the air, clinging to clothing and hair. Isabella was unsettled at first, but settled down after a time. The bugs’ legs on her skin certainly made her uncomfortable, but the creatures themselves were somehow cute, with big eyes. Valerio was immensely popular—just about everyone was cheering his name loudly. Not ‘Duke of the Isles.’ Just Valerio. The most present fixture in the crowd…

“There are so many children,” Isabella said to Valerio once things had calmed somewhat. Elven children must have outnumbered the adults by at least seven to one.

“That’s because they don’t die anymore,” Effie answered, and Isabella turned her head. “Before Valerio’s arrival, it was rare for ours to reach adulthood. Food was scarce, dangers were many, disease was comma, but—"

“Common,” Roderick interrupted.

“…but Valerio changed that,” Effie continued without missing a beat. “We owe him much and more. And given time, we will claim this continent, and perhaps beyond it.”

Isabella wondered what ‘perhaps beyond it’ meant. They walked through streets decorated with abounding unfamiliar species of flora. There were cats perched on the ceiling with quite long ears, topped with little black flourishes. She saw one of those monstrous gray beasts with a horn in a plaza, dead, where a dog almost big enough to ride ate at its corpse.

“There’s a colossal match today,” Effie said to Valerio. “Will you attend?”

Valerio sighed. “Colosseum. And no,” he said with a shake of his head. “Isabella is my primary concern.”

Looming ahead of them was a very stately building—a classically constructed city hall, Isabella could tell. Much of what she saw had simply been imported from Dovhain. Perhaps that was to be expected. It was much more difficult to develop a entirely new architectural style than it was to import one that already existed.

 “The Lómethar is within,” Valerio said. “I’ll do the talking. I don’t think most of them know our language.”

“Some have learned,” Effie supplied. “Your mother, and those specialists you’ve sent over, have spread it somewhat, but only for those willing to learn.”

***

Valerio walked into the Lómethar’s Hall. His tension was so absolute that it felt like it might burst out of his body like a punctured barrel of water. He had been trying his best to keep his composure for Isabella’s sake, but every day that passed by he grew more uncertain and more upset as her condition deteriorated. Today, hopefully, he could reverse her trend of decline.

When Roderick opened the door to the chamber proper, he entered the room with great apprehension. Dozens were in attendance. The Lómethar had expanded much in his absence. The majority were faces that he recognized, fortunately, but more faces still meant more people to persuade. He didn’t want Isabella to know that things might not be as simple as arriving and asking.

But whatever he had to give up, he would. She had to get better.

Contrary to his expectations, the first person that they interacted with wasn’t him or Isabella, but Roderick.

“Rótherion!” one of the Lómethar members called out—Faelquariondël, Valerio placed quickly.  

“Roderick,” the man corrected. “That name is gone for me now.”

““That’s utter nonsense.” The one who’d called for him scoffed. “Though… perhaps it has some merit to it. You’re as fat as Valerio is. They must live very well over the ocean, no?”

He could see Isabella looking around in confusion as they talked. They were speaking their native language.

“Is this the ‘princess?’” one of the Lómethar asked deliberately—Thulachnor. He had to use the word ‘princess’ in the Dovhain tongue—they had no word for princess in the elven language. It was a totally foreign concept for them. “She is rather plump, yes?”

“Perhaps the night will settle that,” Valerio cautioned—traditional words threatening a duel if insult was not withdrawn.

“I meant no offense,” Thulachnor said quickly. “She is as beautiful as any elven maiden I’ve seen. The differences in features merely draw my curiosity.”

“She is my Unorindómë,” Valerio stated clearly to each and all.

Again, those words were couched in tradition—the simplest translation of the word itself would be ‘soulmate,’ but more literal would be ‘the one who causes the sun to rise each morning.’ Elves were intimately familiar with what it meant, and any disrespect toward her was cause for a duel. He had to be utterly clear so there was no room for misinterpretation.

“So… it’s true, then.” The oldest elf in the back of the room spoke, his voice firm. He was Taryon, the de facto leader. “We’ve been considering your request operating under that assumption, but…”

“And there is no room for any moons?” asked another member—she was one of the few Valerio didn’t know.

She was broaching the idea of a secondary wife. Valerio decided to put cold water on it right away.

“When the sun is away, no other light can replace it,” he said in poetic language. “Nothing can change my mind on that perspective.”

“I see.” Taryon nodded. “I’m pleased for you, but that’s irrelevant to the proceedings. You appeal based on service, then, to make this Isabella a Thalvassë.”

“I do,” Valerio confirmed.

Taryon leaned in. “Then we have an answer to that. No,” he stated emphatically. “Our land is not like yours. We do not grant appointments based on familial ties, but for the benefit of the people as a whole.”

“In her land, she possesses great power. She can provide much more substantial offerings to this place than I ever could,” Valerio said. “I can—"

“Your vouching alone isn’t enough,” Taryon interrupted. “Both you and Roderick have made her value exceedingly clear to us. But a Thalvassë arises from their own merit alone, not the good word of others. And pivotally… she must understand the consequences of what’s to happen to her.”

Valerio closed his eyes. He couldn’t deny some frustration. He’d been hoping that his dramatic transformation of their society would be impetus enough to overlook tradition, but the power that he was seeking to extend to Isabella was tightly guarded and fundamental to their culture.

“She is my Unorindómë for a reason,” Valerio said confidently. “She can succeed in persuading you herself.”

Taryon nodded. “Very well. I’m glad you don’t dispute the process.”

“Yet Isabella has less and less time, every day,” Valerio said, and she looked at him curiously. “If you wish to keep me as your ally, Taryon—indeed, all of you... this will become the priority of all the Ithilian.”

Taryon rose and flourished. “I vote in favor of this.”

All of the other councilors rose up and repeated the gesture. It was unanimous agreement—Valerio’s efforts hadn’t come to naught. These were a grateful people.

“Then… so it shall be,” Taryon said with a nod, sitting back down. “Your task is difficult. What precisely can she offer that you cannot? I’m curious to hear the answer.”

Valerio knew that it wouldn’t be easy. He could tell that he had alienated a lot of people by declaring her his Unorindómë. Despite their talk of ‘benefit of the people,’ marriage was still a near-universal custom, and the Ithilian weren’t exempt from that. There was something Valerio was counting on.

The Lómethar was politics, writ small… and Isabella knew that game all too well.

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