The village of Pemberth lays a short ride south of Bree, and at its center stands Greenlake Cottage, owned by the old Bree-lands family for whom it is named. For me, it is a return to a place of recovery after my foolish escapade in the Wildwood. For my beloved bride, my mell bereth, it is Her first visit. We rode here together with my dearest of friends Claywick and Caladna after bidding farewell to Captain Teahesto at Adso’s camp.
Clay and Callie have, over the years, referred to our friendship as The Circle, and from childhood it numbered four, including Clay’s brother Cal until his unsettling demise in Archet. The remaining three of us stayed close, and now with my wife, the Circle is again four.
Much of the ride this morning was in discussion about Clay and Callie’s betrothal, long overdue in my opinion, and I suspect that the union between Seregrian and me has somehow nudged it along. To celebrate, I insisted on preparing a picnic feast for the four of us, and with good food, drink, and my beloved’s wondrous musical talents, we all shared a glorious day.
To reward me for my efforts, the rest of the Circle insisted I rest while they cleared away the debris in the wake of our revels.
Before leading the others in their work cleaning up, Callie took me by the hand and bade me sit under the tree nearby, and my wife, as if in some instinctive melding of thought with her, saw fit to hand me, with an elegantly subtle flourish, Her work “Mortals: A Case Study”. Seeing Callie’s curious look, She said impishly, “Part of his marital enlightenment.” Callie clearly understood Her meaning and glanced at Clay, offering a gleeful, “Aha!”. Clay, of course, simply stood with hands on hips, head tilted and slowly shaking as he chuckled at us, until his betrothed beckoned him with an alluring curl of her forefinger, whereupon he nodded, and they set about their tasks as I read.
My bookmark led me to “Cutch of Torech Besruth”. Here She chronicles the three-day journey from Bree to the Falathlorn and our stays at inns in the Shire, in separate rooms, of course. She notes that my only distraction from Her is my incessant curiosity about preparing foods in new places, but the hobbit innkeepers did not seem to mind; they were very welcoming and quite willing to exchange kitchen secrets.
Our arrival at the first Torech Besruth set aside any suspicions that this journey with Her was but a dream. The grounds were a glorious testament to the values Elves hold dear about the natural world, and the house an impeccable study in the grace and beauty of their architecture. This may have been the first moment that I pinched myself to prove this new reality. After removing Gairon’s harness and simply setting him free, She led me into her home, where She had gone to marvelous lengths to welcome me. After Her allowing my joyous embrace and kiss, She observed me rustling about Her sideboard happily preparing a late supper meal for us. Here, I learned the first of many rules in this house; Her Ladyship pairs the wine, as it should be, for She sets the tone here. And this led me to the most fundamental rule in each Torech Besruth, one that I value most dearly: this may be our home, but ever will it be Her House, and rightfully so. She writes:
“This house, and the village where it sits, is open to you, dear one. This is your home now, but recall that it is also mine, and others. Courtesy to all whom you meet will stand you in good stead. For here within the Lair, remember two things. First, the Sanctum is a place of lore and secrets; enter in freely but know the risks of what you may see within.
“This chamber here is yours. The Tower Is mine.” I said that with such finality that Cutch nodded, silently. With that, I touched his cheek in my hand, kissed him softly and whispered a good night, then padded quietly up the stairs.
In “The Heart Meets the Fist”, other rules concerning houses revealed themselves, and introduced me to the disdain others would hold against our union. It began innocently enough after a few days of our settling into a routine. We would spend a lovely day together over meals I prepared, learning more of Her tastes, especially coffee, which I had brought along as a matter of habit, having spent many years as a rover. She would then spend time alone in study while I explored Her house and grounds, and our days would end with me retiring to the bedchamber at the base of Her tower, where she would ascend after we wished each other a good night with an embrace and a kiss.
One morning, I decided to rise very early to fish for our breakfast in a stream bounding her property and in which I had noticed an abundance of dace. As I was angling, one of Her neighbors, and Elf of course, passed by on the lane before Her House and noticed me. He seemed somewhat shocked and chagrined, and we stood observing each other for several moments before he continued.
The following day, She responded to a knock on the door to find the following missive abruptly left in Her post box:
The Resident Council of Imlad Lind greets Seregrían:
It has been brought to our awareness that a newcomer has been observed guesting at your home. This of course is of no consequence and your own affair, except for the concerns that the newcomer is Firimar; that said Mortal has been observed taking fish from the waters; and has been seen in several places about the village.
Several voices have raised questions regarding this Mortal’s presence, especially in light of your renowned predilection toward disdain of same. The Resident Council, therefore, invites you to the next meeting of the Council at large four days hence, to offer a reasonable assurance that all regarding your welfare is sound.
Manwë keep you under the One, and Yavanna grant you her bounty.
Of this, She writes:
Several things happened at once. Slamming the parchment down on the table, I stormed into the Sanctum and, lifting Dondangol from its cradle, I flew back to the hall and began lobbing bolts of light around the walls and ceiling in a fit of rising anger. Not feeling any satisfaction from these, I hurled the staff aloft and screamed out a Word of Command which sent blue-white sparks around the hall, touching any exposed iron or metal, setting them aglow and accompanied by a most gratifying crack of thunder…
… just as Cutch walked back into the hall from outside, his eyes wide in alarm.
‘Alarm’ was, truthfully, an understatement. I had witnessed Her resolve in the past, but never Her rage. At first thinking I had violated some trust, a thing I had always feared I would do out of mortal ignorance, She was quick to steel Herself against Her own anger and wordlessly handed me the singed parchment. And thus was I introduced to another house rule; those trusted to be under Her roof are under Her protection, and She would allow no interference, even from Her own neighboring kin. My relief was seasoned with humbleness at the regard from this amazing being.
Her love was claiming me not just in Her heart, but as part of Her House.
The next study entry, “Addenda and Updates”, displays the extent to which She would go to defend Her dominion over Her home and Her growing affections for me. She writes:
I can continue to deceive myself into saying that Cutch is here solely for the purpose of academic study, that by close proximity I might find deeper perspective of the Mortals and their ways and lives - but that of course would be nothing but deception. I keep Cutch here for purely personal and selfish reasons now. Selfish, for I would not be parted from his company; personal, because well - I am falling for this Mortal a little more with each passing day. There, I set it down on parchment!
My first real admission and self-realization came a few days after my last entry, to wit: the confrontation at the Resident Council's meeting. I imagine the reaction at my arrival was the effect I sought, for I appeared at the appointed hour clad in scarlet - and bearing Dondangol. As I stood to address the assembled busybodies of Falathlorn, I absent-mindedly caressed the staff in my hands as I spoke to them in measured, slow cadence and reserved tone: how Elvish of me, I know.
I reminded them with grave dignity of that which they already mentioned in their initial note to me: that Cutch's presence is of no consequence and my own affair. I also assured the assembled upturned noses that the situation shall be of no further concern of cause for consternation - because I was leaving Imlad Lind forthwith, having obtained a new and larger residence elsewhere along the Lhun, where my comings and goings and my affairs would be of no further discomfort to the community at large. With that, I departed without another word or glance back.
With my dutiful assistance, She abandoned the first Torech Besruth for the second, an expansive manor overseeing a collection of structures forming an enclave on the bank of the River Lhûn
She ends the entry with a summary of the six days needed for the move and resettling, and an admission:
“A new Lair, a new morning, a new dwelling by the river - and more to discover about Mortals. And myself. But for now, I shall put down the quill and descend from my tower. I smell coffee.”
Suddenly, I was aware of Her presence, sitting next to me under the tree, and then of Clay and Callie, standing before me holding hands, all quietly smiling at me. I turn to Her and she leans forward to kiss me on the end of my nose, an affection I will never tire of or take for granted. Smiling, She takes the book from me and, holding my hand, bids me rise with Her. “You read by the moon’s light, dear one, when it’s presence tells us it is time for bed.”
Callie clears her throat. “Our cottage is your cottage, Elf-sister, and that of your husband.” She turns to Clay, who nods, announcing, “We are overdue at the orphanage, aren’t we, my sweet?” They, as a couple, make the unsaid agreement that it was time to leave the newlyweds to their nightly privacy.
In all these things, I, who have never owned a house and have had no home between the farm where I was raised and Her manor, now see a common thread to all these House Rules. They are, of course, misnamed, for they really have nothing to do with the buildings. They instead are rules for the Home, which is nothing without its dwellers sharing their respect, and thus their love.
