Beyond Canon
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The next morning was drearier than the last two. Some of Rumil’s guests woke to thunder before they would have liked. Rain beat upon the windows as they group had breakfast in the main room.

Due to the weather, there were no members of the Brotherhood of Manwe, Rumil’s writing fellowship, in the inn that day. It gave the group from the school the freedom of taking over the space. The rooms were found in the upstairs, and the pub below. There was a smaller meeting room through one of the doors, and Rumil opened this up to a select group. It was decided that while some of the participants in the project would do best developing courses and workshops, the others needed to establish the overall direction of the school, if it was to be a school after all. It was this task that Erestor undertook with those interested in defining what Sarati was to become.

“I think that our first order of business is to confirm the name of the school,” suggested Enedrion. “And that it is a school.”

“I have been thinking about that. I do want to keep with the idea of it being a school,” said Erestor. “I also think that we need to change certain things. Ideally, though, it did work. For the most part, it worked. We just need to find a way to tweak things.”

“Discipline is one of the things that I think we need to work out,” said Enedrion. “That was the trouble with what happened with Sarati. No one had any sort of consequences. No one could be expelled once they were accepted, and everyone was held to twelve years. Maybe that is too long.”

“Those were tree years,” Finrod reminded Enedrion. “The span of a year is far less now. Perhaps twelve years of the sun is an acceptable period.”

“Will it be enough?” wondered Amarie. “There were those final projects were were expected to create.. we needed the time to manage them.”

Erestor picked up a quill. In the middle of the table was a large sheet of paper with a line down the middle of it. On one side there was a notation marking the items they did not want, and the other side noted things that were to be kept in the school. “I would prefer to get rid of the project requirement. I think that we would do better with a variety of capstones. If someone wants to do a large project they can, but they could also give a presentation or a lecture or something that would be the summation of what they had done. I prefer not to limit our students.”

“What if you have a student who only uses the school for exploration of ideas, and does not have anything ‘final’ to show for it?” asked Finrod.

“I think that they would at least be able to keep a journal of what they did during their time at the school,” said Erestor.

Enedrion nodded. “Actually, we were all required to keep journals while we were there. I hated those damned scrolls. Good thing you fixed that, Erestor.”

Erestor smiled. “I was not going to spend an entire year of rolling and rerolling those damned things, let alone twelve.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Duilin.

“Books,” answered Enedrion. “Erestor’s final project, after twelve years of schooling, was to create an object that was basically the first book in Valinor. Of course, it was eventually discovered that the Teleri were using books a few years earlier, and that their version allowed for more pages and ease of use. Still, it was impressive for someone just over sixty to solve the trouble with scrolls.”

“I was fifty when I figured it out,” corrected Erestor, but he looked down at the table as he spoke. “They just refused to let me submit the project until I was in my last year.”

“Alright, so, what I am hearing here is that we do not want to limit the submission of projects and ideas,” realized Finrod. “Maybe instead of having a final project based upon the number of years someone has been there, you could instead give everyone the opportunity to turn in their projects on a yearly basis.”

“How many people were in each house?” asked Tauniel.

“Eight,” answered Amarie. “Eight students, that is. Every six years a new group of four would be admitted to each house.”

“We should get back to that,” suggested Enedrion. “First, the name. Is anyone not satisfied by the name Haven?”

“Erestor was telling me about the idea of the name during dinner last night,” said Eledu. “I do not know if this is in line with what you were thinking of, but what is the thought on the name Iaunlond?”

Everyone gave the name a little thought. Tauniel asked, “Would it just be Iaunlond, or Iaunlond school?”

“Perhaps when it is announced, it will be called Iaunlond, and then there will be mention of it being the school to replace Sarati,” Enedrion said.

The focus was placed on Erestor, who was sitting at the head of the table tapping the feather of the quill against his cheek thoughtfully. “I rather like it,” he said finally.

“Wonderful. Now that the baby has a name, we can figure out the details. These houses.. they all had colors and animals assigned to them, correct?” Erestor, Amarie, and Enedrion all nodded in answer to Finrod’s question. “Do they need that? Should it be a symbol? Can it be something.. not an animal, because I think with animals, there could be issues—“

“The butterflies,” said Enedrion under his breath as Amarie spoke up with, “I was a hippo.”

Tauniel giggled. “I like hippos.”

“Oh, I do, too. I have been more fond of them ever since,” said Amarie. “It was still something where other groups would make fun of the animals.”

“Or the colors,” added Erestor. “Then again, it seemed like it was usually a combination. Lavender and butterflies, versus brown and bears.”

“I think it would be different if it was all the same sort of animal.” Amarie picked up another quill and made a list of the different houses. “All of the literary houses were birds. If all of the houses were birds or maybe cats or something like that, then I think there would be less trouble with it.”

“I like the idea of the birds,” agreed Enedrion. “We could keep the four that were already there, and modify the other houses.”

Erestor added these notes to the paper at the center of the table. “Do we still want eight students, four every six years, in the school?”

“I would prefer smaller classes more often,” said Enedrion. “If that were the case, students would not have to wait so long for a chance to get in.”

“What is your suggestion?” asked Erestor.

“I would say if we had twenty-four new students every three years, and we still had the twelve year span for each student, that would allow for more opportunities,” said Enedrion.

Amarie shook her head. “That still limits us to the same number of students total. What if we doubled the numbers – could we handle that?”

“Everything in the school was based upon the idea that one hundred and forty-four was the perfect number,” said Erestor. “However, life is not based upon one hundred and forty-four.”

“Are you open to a larger number of students?” asked Amarie. Erestor shrugged.

“I think you need to look at how much space you have,” suggested Tauniel. “Can you house more people if the school was built on the idea of a certain number of residents?”

Finrod picked up a quill and started to sketch the layout of school. “Here is what we have to work with. There are several large buildings, a library, crafting halls, and then we have the smaller houses. There was one assigned to each of the twelve houses. What were those used for?”

“Anything that the house wanted them for, really,” answered Enedrion. “If it was the theatre group, it might be used for practice. If it was the cooking group, they might prepare things there. I was a writer, I pursued literary things, so the house was just a quiet place to write.”

“If the houses are not going to be for that reason—if they are more just a pseudo-family in a way—do we need to structure them the way they used to be?” Amarie looked around and then continued. “What I would like to do is move the barrack areas into those spots. If we did that.. how many people could we fit in each one?” she asked no one in particular.

“They are pretty large buildings,” recalled Erestor. “I think.. well, each one was a large main room, and then another exterior room that could only be entered through the main room. Mostly, those were used for storage, but I think we could work out some way of turning that space into private rooms for the… right now, let us call them housemasters. And mistresses,” he added quickly when Tauniel pouted at him. “The private barracks could be utilized by the instructors and staff. I think.. I actually want to do away with the junior professors,” he said in a rush, looking between Enedrion and Amarie.

“We can discuss that in a moment,” interrupted Finrod. “How many people could live in each of the twelve houses?”

Erestor sighed. “Probably.. fifty-two if we really crammed people in. I would not go more than thirty-eight, to give everyone a little extra room.”

“Alright, so that being the case, if we have thirty-eight, and twelve houses..” Finrod began to scribbled down numbers.

“Four hundred and fifty-six,” said Erestor before Finrod had a chance to make the calculations. “We could keep it in multiples of twelve, and make it four hundred and thirty-two, and that would put thirty-six students in each house.”

Duilin raised a hand. “If that is the case, could you have it on a four year rotation, adding a full group of one hundred and forty-four every four years, twelve to each house. That would certainly allow more students the opportunity to attend.”

“I think it makes it more difficult for cliques to form, too,” remarked Finrod. “If we are all set on that, I think we can move on to discussing the junior professors. Erestor, did you have some thoughts on that?”

Erestor looked as if he still had more to say on the previous topic, but he shook his head. “I already said what I wanted to about that.”

Finrod nodded. “Any other discussion on the junior professors?” he asked. “Personally, I think we should not be too hasty to get rid of them..” The meeting continued on, with Finrod leading the discussion more and more, and Erestor finding he was more the consultant than the organizer.

***

It was another peaceful night, and a nice break for the brothers. With the rain beating down, there was little that could be done outside. They left a few of the windows cracked open for a breeze, and generally lazed about, exchanging stories as they ate the rest of the cheese and fresh fruit, drank a little wine, and tended to Greyson, who was strong enough now to put some weight on the injury.

“I still wish I knew what he got himself into,” said Haldir as he rewrapped the wound in soft gauze, and rewarded the wolf’s good behavior with a slice of the cheese. “Poor thing. Do you think it might have been a trap?”

Orophin shook his head. “Trap would have made it to the bone. Same thing if it was another animal that he fought with. There are so many jagged stones and bricks and pieces of wood out there, I doubt we will ever know. Possibly, before the rains, we might have found blood on something, but I doubt that now.”

Haldir scratched Greyson under the chin and lifted the wolf’s giant head in his hands. “Too bad you cannot tell me what happened, boy.” Greyson sneezed and stretched his neck to lick Haldir’s chin. “I love you, too, silly wolf.”

“If he tried to sneak into a pasture, he could have caught it under a fence or something,” suggested Orophin as he whittled swans for a special chess set he was building in secret. There were white swans on one side, and blocks of cherry wood which would become phoenixes later.

“He knows he can come back here and be fed. Why would he try to sneak into a pasture?” asked Haldir.

Orophin gave Haldir a sideways look. “Because he is a wolf. He has always been a wolf, and will always be a wolf. You have no more tamed him than Glorfindel has tamed Erestor.”

Haldir laughed loudly at the comment. “How true – have you found out any more about the mathematics fiasco?”

“No – have you?”

“No.. you know, Glorfindel is going to confront him on all of these things. I can tell.. he is letting it go for now, but I just hope I am there to see it,” Haldir admitted.

“Me, too,” Orophin agreed. “Strange, that we are just waiting and hoping for the conflict.”

“I am not sure it will be a conflict so much as a massive confession,” said Haldir. “I have no idea why he seems to have so many secrets.”

“Because he is old,” pointed out Orophin. “Really, really, really, really old. Anyone who remembers as much as he does is bound to forget at least as much.”

“How can he forget—“

“What did you have for lunch on Tuesday?”

“—that much..” Haldir paused. “Maybe.. fish, I think?”

“Fish was on Wednesday,” corrected Orophin.

“What I had for lunch nearly a week ago is hardly a fair comparison,” Haldir argued.

“It is an example.”

Haldir smirked. “You are taking Erestor’s side.”

“It was bound to happen at some point.” Orophin set the completed figure aside and started work on a matching rook. “All I am saying is that sometimes, I think he forgets what happened to him in the past. He might block it out, too, like Mahtan suggested.”

Haldir appeared to have something further to dispute, but he turned his head to the window and listened. Orophin, too, raised his head and slowed his hand. “Music.. are they back already?”

“No.” Haldir hurried to the window and pushed it open the rest of the way. The rain had stopped, but the droplets clinging to the shutters dripped down onto his head. The music was faint, but whomever was playing was getting closer. Haldir grinned and rushed up the stairs to find his flute and kick off his shoes beside his bed. When he came back down the stairs, he took them two at a time before he stopped abruptly as he saw Orophin staring at him with stilled hands. “I.. uh, I..”

“I am not waiting up for you,” Orophin chided playfully.

“Good, because I might be out all night,” said Haldir as he stooped down to scratch Greyson behind the ears. “If they get back before I do—“

“I will make up some nonsense about you going out to hunt or fish or.. something. You know I will cover for you- but Haldir?”

Haldir stopped with the door half-open. “Yes?”

“I do not think you need to cover this up. I think everyone is very happy for you.” Orophin made a shooing motion at him. “Have fun! No talking to dark lords or nazgul! Eat all your vegetables!”

“Good night, Oro,” replied Haldir with a chuckle as he left.

***

The evening was spent in merry revelry at the inn. Dancing, singing, storytelling, and a harp that was passed from Salgant to Finrod to Fingon kept the night lively. It was when Eledu noticed that most everyone was on their second or third glass of wine or mead, and Erestor had not yet been seen, that he excused himself from the task of aiding Rumil at the bar and weaved through the merrymaking to check the rooms before he ventured outside.

A quick scan of the ground allowed the hunter to track his prey, and he came upon Erestor within minutes. “I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to return to the school already,” he remarked as he sat down beside his friend. He could not help but notice the ornate wooden box sitting on the ground.

“I hardly drink anymore,” said Erestor quietly. He had his eyes closed and was leaning against a tree, his hands threaded back behind his head as a cushion against the bark. “Messes with my head too much.”

“Mmhmm.” Eledu kept his gaze on the box. “Probably a good idea to stay away from the temptation, then.”

Erestor loosened one hand to bring it around and rub his nose. “Right.”

“You know, this is probably not my place to say,” began Eledu, “but you seem.. fatigued. It seems like this project drains you daily. I do not think this council approach is working for you; at the same time, you seem very worried that your decisions are going to be scrutinized. ”

“The entire project is under scrutiny,” Erestor said. “I am under scrutiny.”

“Why do you think that?” wondered Eledu.

“Finrod is on my heels. I know that he wants to lead this project, even if he will not say it,” said Erestor. “He is just waiting for me to make a mistake.”

“I think he wants to see this succeed as much as you do.” Eledu frowned. “Are you sleeping well?” he asked suddenly.

Erestor flinched. “More or less,” he answered.

“Uh-huh. I got that feeling.” Eledu was eyeing the box again. “Have you thought to ask Eru for guidance lately?”

The reply was slow, but finally Erestor shook his head. “I did not want to bother Him.”

“Oh, Erestor..” Eledu did not try to mask the worry in his voice. “You know that He will not be bothered. He wants us to come to Him when we do not know which way to turn. Will you pray to Him with me?”

“Sure.” There was slight hesitation in Erestor’s voice, but Eledu blamed it on the contents of the wooden box. For the next few minutes, Eledu cupped Erestor’s hands within his own and spoke the words, while Erestor bowed his head silently and suppressed his sighs.

“Erestor,” said Eledu when they had finished, “you are always welcome to seek me out as a listener. I may not always have the sage advice you have offered me in the past, but I have two perfectly good ears.”

“I know.” Erestor rested against the tree again as Eledu stood up. “Eledu?”

“Yes?”

“If Fin should ask, I would prefer you not tell him why I was out here.”

Eledu looked down at the box with a frown. “I doubt he will ask,” Eledu replied, without adding ‘because I think he already knows’.
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