For the Love of a Maia

For the Love of a Maia
Chapter 7: Elyen at Anstig Mote
A story by Sienna Dawn

Pairing: Haldir/OFC Heterosexual
Rating: NC17 for sexuality

Summary: The Valar send Haldir to Arda in order to bring a stranded Maia back to Valinor. When he arrives, the possibility of civil war looms large. Will the Maia forsake Middle Earth and return to Valinor? A period romance set against the backdrop of Norman England.

Disclaimer: Based on characters from The Silmarillion and the Lord of the Rings, by JRR Tolkien, (used here without permission), as well as historical events which occurred in York, England, 1173-1175 AD, during the reign of Henry II. Copyright remains with JRR Tolkien. For entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this work. All original characters are the creation of Sienna Dawn.

Chapter 7 - Elyen at Anstig Mote

Anstig Mote was a sprawling castle situated atop a high fertile promontory where small farms and groves thrived. Around the castle itself an immensely wide moat had been built. A fourteen-foot wall surrounded the entire moat, from back to front. A second wall surrounded the castle itself and was wide enough to double as a road for archers and narrow wagons that brought supplies in to the knights garrisoned there. The immediate impact was of a floating island-city.

Anstig Mote was ancient, its estates and titles doubly so. The immense personal wealth of the Earls of Anstig had guaranteed not only its survival, but also its growing independence from the adjoining land barons. Consequently, each succeeding family had built upon it, depending on their needs and likes. At present, it was a strongly fortified structure capable of withstanding long months of siege and battle, as well as housing, feeding and protecting over one thousand souls.

One approached Anstig Mote via a narrow stone road that led to the first of three arched gates. Several sheds and cottages nearby served as sleeping quarters for the knights assigned duty there. The common practice of this castle was that only the most experienced knights manned the first gate.

This first gate was situated beyond the castle walls and forming the first line of defense. It was opened and closed by a thick wooden plank door which slid vertically to allow entry and then dropped backward horizontally to the ground and served as a connecting plank, gapping the stone bridge to the other side. This meant if anyone attempted to climb over the first gate by force, he would find a neat surprise and would be dumped right into the waters of the deep moat. Once the knights of the first gate authorized entry and lifted open the heavy plank door, one of two standards were automatically raised. The first was a red and white banner upon which was emblazoned a delicate red flower held aloft by a rearing lion, the symbol of the ruling Lords of Anstig, and the other was a simple banner of white emblazoned with a large blue circle which indicate an authorized visitor. Both standards were flown whenever a royal visitor approached.

Once beyond the first gate, the second gate, which was even taller than the first, loomed ahead and operated in the same fashion as the first. Once the knights of the second gate had spotted a traveler upon the stone bridge, a permanent lookout confirmed the standard hoisted aloft from the first gate, and in this manner were prepared ahead of time.

The last and final gate, the porticullis, opened directly into the vast roofless courtyard of Anstig Mote. From this courtyard one could approach the stables, the barns, the kitchens, the weapons' hall, the pottery and tanning sheds, the smithies, the knights' hall, the training grounds to the side of the castle, and the main house itself.

The main house, upon which the original foundation of Anstig Mote was anchored, was domed and spired, and from afar very closely resembled a church. However, church it was not. Within this castle lay numerous dining rooms, libraries, indoor Herbers and Gardens. There were fountains, labyrinths, terraced parks, even a small vineyard, and lover's cottage. Two hollow stone conduits located at the east and west sides of the castle carried fresh water from the nearby River Wharfe.

If Anstig Mote possessed a weakness, it was how their fresh water was brought to the castle.

Far from the castle walls, for at least fifty leagues, the lands of the Earls of Anstig and the related Dukes of Ormsby were watched with a wary and careful eye. Sentries were changed every sixty days to ensure each man had time back at home with family and friends. Archers were scattered among the many woods and forests leading to Anstig Mote.

Yet it was on a quiet, hot June afternoon that one lone traveler chanced upon the first gate of Anstig Mote.

The helmeted knight had approached the figure as it resolutely made its way toward the closed gate. To his shock and amazement, he realized in no time, the stranger was a female.

Quickly he had run out to meet the tall woman who stood before the gate, draped in a cloak of dark purple and whose black hair drifted in the breeze, partially concealing her face.

"Hold!" He called out in a strong voice.

Another knight named Thomas came out of one of the sheds, chewing on a piece of chicken. "What's amiss, William?"

William looked over at the strange female and nodded his chin in her direction.

Thomas looked over; at once, his face broke into a pleased smile. "Lady Elyen!" he quickly rubbed his greasy hands over his leggings.

At the sound of her name, Elyen turned and recognized the familiar face. "Thomas Dewood!" She cried, "How fare you?"

Thomas blushed, "Well enough, my Lady. Well enough." His light blue eyes looked beyond her. "My Lord Duke of Ormsby? Does he not accompany you?"

Elyen shook her head, "Nay, not this time, Thomas."

Thomas frowned and walked quickly over to the stunned William. "Quickly, idiot, raise the standards for royalty and open the gate!"

Thomas eyed the tall woman with worry, "'Tis said that when you or your mother comes alone to Anstig Castle it bodes ill news."

"Aye," agreed Elyen, "this is no different."

Thomas's heart sank. "Then war is upon us?"

Elyen looked at the heavy wooden plank door while it was lifted and then turned her cool gaze to the older man. "I pray not, Thomas, I pray not. Whether or nay war comes upon this land depends on a great many things. Some of them your Lord can help avert."

The gate, now lifted, dropped heavily onto the ground with a low and heavy thud. Dust and gravel flew in all directions but Elyen did not flinch.

"Then I pray the Lords of Anstig heed your wisdom." Thomas cried as Elyen took her first step toward destiny.

"Eh," said William when he thought Elyen was out of earshot, "how'd she get here, anyway?" He looked behind him. "What wit' no horse an' all."

Thomas watched the lonely figure approach the second gate and then turned to glare at William; "You shut your face!" he began hulking back to the shed, "For thirty years have I been at this Mote and 18 of those in service to the Earl. I have seen things you don't even want to know, when it comes to that woman." Thomas reached the shed and ducked inside.

Alone, William turned to see that a group of about ten knights had emerged from the woods beyond, "Eh," he called, "any of you seen' a woman around these parts?"

The other knights gave William strange and unusual looks, at least one called out in a good humor, "I say, Will, you need to get back to your young wife, you do!" This brought out a loud guffaw from the others and William gave all a sour look and went back to his post.

Meanwhile, inside the shed, Thomas ate in silence and pondered upon many things.

~*~*~*~*~

Not fifty leagues south of Anstig Mote, in a castle monastery called Martell-in-Landing, Sir Gilbert de Poynes was called to his Lord's receiving hall. He entered quietly, never failing to be amazed by the massive chamber, where ancient black marble columns rose to sustain the high domed rooftop. At the back of the hall, three stone steps ended in a raised dais upon which was a large wood and stone chair. The chair was ornate, decorated with golden crosses and many encrusted jewels. Rising from its back, were two crossed golden spears each bearing the royal standard of the upraised lion. Four knights stood behind the chair and within it sat a small man of approximately sixty winters. All wore the large white over-tunic with the bold red cross emblazoned upon it.

The man in the ornate chair was the head of this chapter of the Templars. His name was Gregorie de Martell, and the House where the rest of the knights lived had been in his family for many generations. When Sir Gregorie inherited the house, he decided to join the ranks of the warrior-monks and opened the vast estates to others of the same order.

Now, nearly thirty years later, Martell-in-Landing was a well-known royal stronghold, which garrisoned some one hundred Templar knights.

From his chair Sir Gregorie watched Sir Gilbert approach. He trusted Sir Gilbert, as he would trust himself. In his wrinkled hands, Sir Gregorie held a small iron cage. Within it sat a patient pearl-gray dove. Within the stillness of the chamber, the bird's gentle coo was strangely comforting.

Sir Gilbert frowned at the cage but dropped to one knee before the dais and lowered his head.

"It has come to our attention," intoned Sir Gregorie quietly, "that messages borne aloft from this place come and go with great frequency." His kind blue eyes rested on Sir Gilbert's bowed head.

"Aye, my Lord," admitted Sir Gilbert, "they do."

"And what would be the nature of those messages, Sir Gilbert?" asked Sir Gregorie.

Sir Gilbert raised his head, though he still kneeled and looked into his master's face. "My Lord, news of Normandy, from the Lady Elyen of York." His eyes dropped to the bird where he could easily see the small piece of parchment tucked into a little noose about the bird's leg. "All of what I learn I make thee privy to."

Sir Gregorie nodded and shifted in his seat, holding the cage out for Sir Gilbert. "Aye, I know this." His eyes stared quietly into Sir Gilbert's face. "I cannot say I am wholly convinced that woman is not a sorceress. I would not wish to see Martell House impugned."

Sir Gilbert nodded as he opened the cage and extracted the small parchment from the docile bird. "Aye, my Lord. I see the wisdom of your words, but the Lady in question is no sorceress. This I can vouch for."

Standing, Sir Gilbert quickly opened the little scroll and scanned the words.

"What news?" asked Sir Gregorie.

"The Lady Anysse has been taken while enroute to Sempringham Priory. Her whereabouts are not yet known." Folding the little paper, Sir Gilbert strode to a nearby candle and burned the scroll.

"What means this, then?" asked Sir Gregorie.

Turning to look at his Lord with a dark and grim face, Sir Gilbert shook his head. "I cannot decipher this yet, but of one thing I am certain -- Almeric Atteford must be marshalling forces somewhere north of here."

~*~*~*~*~

Quickly, Elyen was ushered into the open courtyard of Anstig Mote, recognizing many there from previous visits. Indeed, she knew many of the people here, though they thought her to be her mother's daughter as she had last come to this place disguised as an old widow.

Without speaking, Elyen followed the old steward she knew was called Cedric and quietly they mounted the stone steps leading to the front entrance of the enormous house.

Inside, Anstig Mote was cool and dark, with many wooden paneling covering the stone and brick walls, tapestries hung on the walls and thick furs and Persian rugs covering the hard stone floors. Gold candle sconces glittered upon the walls, some now lit.

Ahead of her, a wide cherry-wood stairway led to the upper floors, but this was not her destination now.

She followed Cedric, her own footsteps light but confident, and they walked under the staircase, beneath a tall arched entrance, into a square room lined with chairs, tables and a few bookcases where scrolls and maps lay neatly folded.

Cedric stepped aside to let Elyen pass. She was very familiar with this room. The Strategy Room, the one place where in times of war or siege, the Earls and Dukes met with their captains deciding military plans.

Her blue eyes quickly canvassed the darkened room and she spotted Edmund Mowbray, Earl of Anstig, seated at a small table, head bent over a small map. He was a large man, although not necessarily tall, but stout, compact, strong and well built. He was already in his late forties, widowed for many years, with Robert as his one son and heir. Edmund shifted in his seat and Elyen smiled. He had known she was there, she had known this too.

"Greetings and well met," Edmund called out and raised his head. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped about his ears, as was the style of the day. He wore no chainmail, just a brown and gold tunic and black leggings. Black leather boots that looked old and worn graced his sturdy legs up to the knees.

"I say the same to thee," returned Elyen as she came further into the room, drawing closer to Edmund and stealing a look at the map before the man.

"I see you have fortified the northern fences." She said calmly.

"Aye," Edmund nodded, "Robert has gone to see it done." He sat back in his chair and motioned for Elyen to sit.

"Ill news bears thee hither, does it not?" He said without preamble. It was always thus, and his own father had always said it, "In times of trouble look to the east and surely shall the wizards then come."

Elyen's eyes looked troubled, "I had hoped not, but ill news carries on an ill wind."

Edmund frowned, "Then we must wait for Robert to return before I shall hear of your ill news."

"How long will that be, Edmund?" Elyen asked, "For time we have little of."

Edmund pursed his lips. "He rides toward the Mote as we speak."

Elyen sat back in her chair, not very happy with Edmund's reluctance to speak without Robert. She calculated that by now Ulric and Haldir were already making for or had crossed the River Wharfe and were already on Edmund's lands. She did not want a knight announcing the news until she had a chance to explain her plan and why she was bring it all under Edmund's roof.

"Very well, Edmund Mowbray," she intoned sternly, "I will wait but one hour and if your son is not back by then, you must listen to what I have to say."

Edmund nodded his head and stood. "Do you desire to drink or eat?"

Elyen sighed, "Something to drink."

Edmund turned to a servant waiting by the open chamber, "Bring the Lady Elyen wine and some food."

"Robert shall be home soon, and then you can tell us both what it is that so urgently brought you here, but I wager I may already know some of it."

Elyen gave Edmund a silent glance and Edmund laughed, "Think you not I am uninformed of what transpires within my lands?" He sat. "Would your visit here be in any manner concerned with the fact that my nephew Ulric has crossed the Aire and in pursuit are three riders bearing the standard of Rowan Bold?"

Elyen's face remained impassive "Go on."

Edmund crossed his arms, "What I know is this: Ulric has crossed the Aire in the company of a blonde rider and a female. Three riders garrisoned at Rowan Bold are in pursuit. Now, this morning came an inquiry about the Lady Anysse from Martell-in-Landing."

Elyen looked away, it was not as bad as she had supposed although Sir Gilbert's inquiry did make her uncomfortable. "And what make you of this?" She asked calmly.

Edmund shrugged, "I had heard it said the Almeric Atteford had claimed the Lady Anysse. Now she rides with Ulric. I am thinking this House will be sieged shortly."

Elyen frowned, "You see much, Edmund Mowbray." she said, "Tis a gift of your Numenorean blood, for the kings who were your forefathers did see deeply into the designs and thoughts of men. This serves you well."

Just then, a loud crash sounded in the outer room and the voice of Robert Mowbray, Edmund's son, was heard reverberating through the entire first floor landing. With long confident strides, he entered his father's Strategy Room.

Robert Mowbray was tall, as tall as Ulric. However, he was fair where Ulric was dark. Blonde-reddish hair cropped short, with quick and merry blue eyes. His legs were long and strong, well shaped from years of riding and fighting. Some said he was over confident at times, and this was taken as a weakness of character, but none said it too loudly or too often, for all admired the Earl's son and would follow him to doom's door if need be.

"Good tidings, Father!" Robert's deep baritone reached the room before his form did.

Both Edmund and Elyen turned to the sound of his voice.

Robert entered the room, pulling off his long gauntlets. He stopped in mid-stride and grinned at the female sitting by his father.

"Why, Elyen of York?" He walked toward her and bowed. "What ill news brings you hither?" He asked half seriously, giving Elyen a small grin.

Edmund laughed, "As I said as well."

Robert arched his eyebrows, "Seems, my Lady, you are unequivocally linked with doom and ill news." He reached for a goblet from the tray a servant was setting down.

"So it would seem," Elyen answered dryly, accepting the goblet from Robert.

Now Edmund turned to Elyen, "Well, Lady, my son is now here." He saw Robert's eyes fly to his face but he did not acknowledge the silent question. "What news do you bring?"

Elyen took a sip of her wine and set the goblet down. Her eyes flew to the manservant.

"Leave us!" Edmund commanded and the servant quickly departed the room.

"It is as you say, Edmund Mowbray," Elyen began quietly; "Ulric has crossed the Aire and with him ride the Lady Anysse and another whom is of my kindred." She heard Robert's soft whistle. "They are making north toward this House and shall cross at eastern tower of the River Wharfe."

"Why comes he here with the Lady?" this from Robert, while Edmund sat back and looked at his son.

"Almeric Atteford lays claim to the Lady in matrimony but she has refused him, citing a desire to take Holy Vows at the Priory in Sempringham. He has given her but one year to make good on her vows and then come to take her as wife." Elyen looked at Edmund and Robert alternately, searching their faces for a response.

Robert gave his father a quick glance but said nothing.

"The refusal by the Lady is not what is at stake," said Elyen.

"I see it now," interjected Edmund, "Almeric wants the lands of York for himself." His intelligent gaze fell upon Elyen, "and he gives no thought at to Wyat's right of inheritance?"

Elyen nodded and Robert served himself more wine. "Father, that would risk war. Almeric knows well that the King already has his hands full with his older son claiming the throne for himself. Now, we're to have another claimant?" Robert drank the wine in one gulp, poured himself another goblet-full and sat back in his wide chair. "Why not send a message to the King? Or to de Lacy, for that matter?" asked Robert.

Edmund shook his head, "Nay, the King will not listen, and de Lacy, what can he do? His hands are tied." Worry lines began to appear on Edmund's usually placid features.

"I don't understand," began Robert, "why does my cousin, Ulric, bring the Lady Anysse here? Will this not bring down Almeric's rage upon the Mote?"

"It will force him into the open, Robert," Elyen explained, "and this is what we want the King to see. Why would he attack a royal stronghold? Women of higher rank and larger dowries than Lady Anysse's abound throughout the realm."

Finally, Robert understood, "But only the Lady Anysse brings the northern lands as her dowry and it is these lands Almeric covets." Robert took a sip of his wine, thinking carefully. "And what of the lad, what of Wyat? Has he no place in this?"

"Obviously Almeric seems to have already disposed of Wyat's claim. This is even more worrisome.." Elyen answered.

"And what is our part?" asked Robert. His father, Edmund was deep in thought.

"You make ready, lest Almeric turn his attention toward these lands." Elyen turned to Edmund and waited.

"What of the Templars?" Edmund finally asked.

"Send them no answer," replied Elyen. "Their time is not come yet."

Robert's eyebrows arched. The Templar Knights in this? Suddenly he had a very deep foreknowledge that there was more at stake than one man's desire for a throne. Usually, with Elyen it was so. Labyrinths upon riddles, she brought to them. Ultimately, it was always as she said it would be. Now, he looked at her. "What else is there we must know, Lady?"

Elyen smiled, "Get your priest ready, Robert."

"Priest? Why?" Robert frowned, "how does a priest fit into this?" He studied Elyen and reminded himself she often spoke in riddles and half-explained schemes.

"Because there is going to be a wedding at Anstig Mote before the week is out." She replied with a small smile.

Robert frowned at Elyen and looked toward his father.

Edmund shrugged.

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Disclaimer: All familiar characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and are used without permission. No monies are being made from this work.
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