Ceruill smiles and takes a sip of wine before beginning the tale. He places the goblet to his side and begins. "When I was but a simple serving lad in the valley of Imladris, a strange passage of events came to the attention of every servant in the house. For a decade, 'twas often the primary topic of discourse amongst us, for none of us had ever known such a miraculous transformation. I will tell you now the tale of Gilion the young and impetuous who was to become Gilion the vintner."

A Petulant Youth

Gilion's parents were most concerned about the lad. By his fiftieth nameday he had shown no interest in any of the trades of the valley. He had tried his hand in nearly every guild, and always he complained that the work was not interesting enough or that it was beneath him. His father decided at last to send him to the hardest masters in the valley to see if they could help him find his future. First, the lad was sent to the Dantur Aglarel to learn smithing.

Gilion stood before the forge and anvil for three days, staring at the Dantur's work. The master would turn to him and say 'Fetch me some water, lad.' Gilion would only stare at him blankly, and then yawn. The Dantur did not give up on the petulant youth immediately. Rather, he assigned him more intricate tasks: pumping of the bellows, straightening farrier nails, even hammering at the forge. Always, Gilion simply stood there until at last the Dantur shook his head and sent him home.

Next, Gilion's father sent him to the Lindetur Lindis, in hopes that she would teach him something of the musical art. Perhaps that would grab his fancy. She gave him a flute. He chewed on it. She gave him a harp. He picked his teeth with the strings. She tried to get him to sing. His horrible caterwauling was heard throughout the valley and convinced the Nangon Gilgurth that the valley was under attack. Needless to say, when half the valley guard marched into the Lindetur's office, sure they would find a host of Uruk hiding in the closets, Lindis sent the lad home.

Finally, the impertinent youth's parents assigned him to the tender tutelage of the Kano Glorfindel. The Kano took one look at the lad and laughed his famous laugh. "Lad, do ye have any interest in learning to fight."

Gilion was taken aback by the question. He had never been asked before. "No, sir...not really."

The Kano only smiled and nodded. "I thought not. Why are ye here, then?"

Gilion had no answer and only shrugged. The Kano simply pointed to the house and sent the boy from the training grounds.

Disappointed by their son's latest failure, Gilion's parents sent him to the Hir and Hiril Elrond and Celebrian. The lord and lady looked the lad over and were silent for a long while. Gilion sat uncomfortably in his seat, counting the stars on a nearby tapestry. At last, the Hir spoke. "Gilion, you have tried your hand at nearly every guild in the valley, and none have met your interest. I would like you to go now to the trellises and study under Glinarel, the master vintner. He is wise and a master of his trade. Further, he was a vintner under the High King Fingolfin and will have much to teach you of the ancient art of wine-making."

Gilion was certainly excited at the prospect. Raised in Imladris, he had oft heard the tales of glory and splendor surrounding the high king Fingolfin. Further, being a vintner didn't sound like such hard work. So, he readily gave his assent and went out to the trellises to meet his new master.

Glinarel the Master Vintner had seen the light of the two trees, but no glorious Noldo lord was he. He was neither tall nor short, handsome or ugly. His voice was rough and his language plain. His eyes, however, held within them the fire of ancient wisdom and light and Gilion found that on his first meeting with the master, he could not look the Noldo in the eye. Glinarel simply looked the lad over and nodded. "Alright, boy, it's harvest season. First you will learn how to pick. Come."

Copyright © 1996 Aaron John Loeb
All Rights Reserved.

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