Chapter 32½ – Explanations to the Council.
“Council in session,” the clerk announced, “all stand for the Elder of Elders.”
All the council were present now, even High Elder Govannon Staley, who typically attended in the ‘neither here nor there’, he normally stayed in his castle and just projected his presence, ghost like, into the chamber. But now under the new management of Llewellyn the Brave, he was requested to attend in person.
Llewellyn entered and took his seat.
The clerk continued, “We are here gathered to discuss the arrival of two-hundred and twenty-four refugees from another land who have arrived through the supposedly lost portal of Giamillus-Weorod. They have arrived without documentation, permission, goods or chattels and speaking in a tongue unknown to us.”
“What’s he going on about?” Jon whispered to the other two in the gallery, “they all spoke our language when we met them.”
“Dunno,” said Tom, “best to just listen.”
“Silence in the public gallery please!” the clerk said sternly.
“We are here to discuss their dispersal, integration and welfare amongst the people of Trymyll,” he turned to face the three teenagers, “Jonathan, son of Llewellyn, Thomas, son of Llewellyn and Glynda Guilliams-Erwood, daughter of…erm, erm.”
He was so wrapped up in his own pomposity, he had forgotten how to name Glynda.
“Daughter of Mr and Mrs Guilliams-Erwood,” Glynda chimed in.
“Erm, yes exactly, daughter of Mr and Mrs Guilliams-Erwood.”
Llewellyn held up his hand and the clerk stopped.
“Clerk to the Elder of Elders, senior clerk to the clerk of the high elders, overseer of the courts of Trymyll, keeper of the keys, drainer of the moat, polisher of front gate and trimmer of the beard of Grovel. Can we please keep the introductions simple; I am the Elder, these are Jonathan, Thomas and Glynda, you are the clerk, we do all know each other already, now please get on with it!” Llewellyn said with both irritation and humour.
“Oh, I do apologise, my goodness, I never knew I had so many titles.”
“You don’t, I just made them up. Your title is just Clerk to the Elder.”
“Oh,” he said, slightly crestfallen, “if I may continue. Please will you explain why, and by the authority of whom, you brought these refugees from an alien land into Trymyll?”
Jon took over the conversation. “First off, we spent the best part of a day and night with these people, they all speak the same language as we do, ask High Elder Govannon Staley, he met them, he spoke with them.”
The clerk looked to High Elder Govannon Staley who stood to address the chamber.
“When these people came through the portal, the young wizards were indeed talking to them, but we of the elven community could not understand a word they said, we just listened to what the conversations were between the three here now and the strangers to establish their needs.” Govannon Staley retook his seat.
“No, he must be wrong, we were able to talk with them quite freely, how would we have known how to speak another language, we were only there for a matter of hours,” Tom said confused.
“Who is the leader?” Llewellyn asked.
“The big bloke with the beard, dressed in brown.”
“All the men have beards; all are big, and all are dressed in brown. Any more clues, such as a name?”
“Jon took back the lead, “No, they never gave any names.”
“And you didn’t think to ask?”
“No.”
“Jon, go with one of the guards to their camp and ask the leader to come here.”
Jon left the chamber with a guard and walked out to where the newcomers were camped.
“Hi there,” he said, “Which one of you was the leader we spoke to last night?”
They all just stared at him, and Jon stared back. All the men did look similar, most were dressed in brown and had beards, but when they spoke to each other, he couldn’t understand a word they were saying.
Jon called out his staff, the visitors all moved back as if in fear of what he was about to do. He held the stone in one hand and the staff in the other and concentrated on the elm for wisdom. He tried again.
“Which one of you was the leader we spoke to last night?”
Again, they all just looked blankly back and spoke to each other in a strange tongue.
Then one moved to the front.
He said, “Giamillus-Weorod.”
They returned to the council chamber to report their findings.
“I don’t understand, we spoke to them yesterday and they all spoke like us, now, it’s just rubbish. One bloke did say something I recognised though. Giamillus-Weorod, that’s the bloke who came through the portal….”
He was cut short by his dad, “Yes, we know who Giamillus-Weorod was. Let’s go down together, all of us and see if we can make any sense of what’s going on, Mr Clerk, adjourn until we return.”
The whole council, the three teenagers, the clerk to the Elder, and all else present, upped and went to where the strangers were camped. The city had set up tents for the people to stay in, and marquees for feeding and meetings, there was a good fire going in the centre of the camp and all seemed in high and noisy spirit. That is until the delegation arrived, then silence fell, and moroseness returned.
Llewellyn took the lead; he was the boss after all.
“Hello,” he said in the sort of loud and slow voice people use when talking to foreigners, “do any of you understand me?”
“Well of course we understand you, we’re not idiots,” one of them replied.
Llewellyn modified his tone, “well why didn’t you understand Jonathan when he came to you a few minutes past?”
“Cos he was talking gibberish, that’s why we couldn’t understand a word he was saying.”
Llewellyn and the elders all looked at each other and then at Jon and the guard, then back at each other again.
“Who is your leader?” asked Llewellyn.
A man stepped forward, “We have no leader as such, but I am the only man remaining who had any official position, so I have assumed responsibility.”
“May I ask your name?”
“John, but people call me Big John, I was the keeper of the city gate, not there are any gates now, or walls come to that.”
“I am Llewellyn, senior of the High Elders, also known as the Elder of Elders. But please, no formalities, just call me Llewellyn.”
Llewellyn then went on to introduce the other High Elders with him and to reintroduce Jon, Tom and Glynda.
We know the Giamillus-Weorod girl, we speak through her,” Big John said.
“How do you mean?” asked Llewellyn.
“Just as I say, we speak through her. If she’s not here for us to speak through, you can’t speak to us, simple really.”
“No, we don’t understand, at least I don’t anyway,” Llewellyn looked around at the others, they all agreed with him.
“If I may be so bold as to interject,” the clerk to the Elder said, “and ridiculous as this may sound, you and they speak different languages completely, but because of Glynda’s bloodline to the Giamillus-Weorod root, when Glynda is around, you understand each other, if you understand my understanding of the situation.”
“How?” Llewellyn asked.
“I think they call it magic,” the clerk said. It was the first time ever, as far as they could remember, that he had made a funny remark.
“In that case, Big John, on behalf of the council, we welcome you all to Trymyll and would ask that you speak on behalf of your people and accompany us back to the council for discussion on what to do next.”
“No, no, not wishing to sound rude or ungrateful, but if we must talk, talk here where they can all join in, I have no real authority, so until we establish a leadership of our own, you should really address us all.”
By now, a few others from the city had wandered down to see what was going on, amongst them was Gwen and Faraji. Of course, when the strangers saw Faraji, all hell broke loose.
“It’s him!” they shouted, “the Master, you’ve tricked us into coming here just so he could kill us!”
“Stop! Stop!” shouted Llewellyn, “QUIET! That is not the Master.”
“Well, he sure looks like him,” Big John shouted back, “kill us quick Master, don’t make it painful like with the wizards.”
“No one’s going to kill you!” Llewellyn yelled, “he is not the Master. He just looks a bit like him.”
“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Faraji, for my sins, I am both the sworn adversary of the Master, and his twin brother, in fact, his nemesis. But you have nothing to fear from me, I will defend you or anyone else against any attack from my brother to the point of death for either one of us or both.”
There was still a lot of unease within the camp, but after some more talking by Llewellyn and Glynda, whom they trusted beyond reason, they eventually calmed down again.
“Right,” Llewellyn said, taking control again, “Our request is simple, there are two-hundred and twenty-four of you and we have seven cities, how would you feel about splitting up and us dispersing you equally amongst the cities? That would be thirty-two to each city; that way we could accommodate you all with ease.”
“No,” Big John said, “we must be together, we need to stick together, we would rather be returned to our former land to die there than be scattered around your land.”
“In that case, you will have to stay here until houses can be built for each of you. We are past the equinox, so summer is well on the way. Meanwhile, if you are to communicate, trade and barter, you will have to learn our language. We will do that over the next few days.”
“How are you going to do that then? It takes years to learn a new language,” Big John replied, “and some of us are past the age of learning.”
“It is not learning in the traditional sense. I will ask some Golden Dragons to teach you, they will, while you sleep, implant the language in your minds, when you wake, you will know our language.”
“Don’t be daft,” Big John said.
“You’ll see,” Llewellyn retorted.