4: Progress Reports

"How is he doing, Olórin?" Námo asked.

The Maia turned with a smile and bowed briefly to his lord. "Glorfindel does well enough, lord."

The two were standing unobtrusively to one side of the Mardi Envinyato watching the elves at play. Those who wandered through these particular Halls were destined to be Reborn, though for many that would be years, even centuries, from now. It did not matter. The Children knew nothing of Time in these Halls and the Valar and Maiar had no need for it, save as a convenience.

Námo reflected sadly on another part of his domain, a place for those who would never be allowed re-embodiment until Arda was Renewed. It was no less beautiful and peaceful than these Halls of light and laughter, but it was truly a prison rather than a place of temporary repose for weary fëar. And those who walked those halls walked alone.

He shook his head as if to clear it of such dark thoughts and turned his attention to the scene around him. Glorfindel sat with a group of ellyn and ellith singing. It was a silly song, fit for elflings, but these grown elves, now restored to innocence, found it amusing. There was much laughter mixed with the singing and Námo smiled as he listened to the words.

      "Here’s to singing, dancing and laughing,

      here’s to loving, friendship and sleeping.

      I don’t know which of these I like best,

      But after the dancing I do need to rest."

Olórin chuckled. "Glorfindel has not needed to rest for nigh two years of the Sun, my lord. I think he is ready to move on."

"Perhaps, but not quite." Námo watched as a door to one of the sleeping chambers off the Hall opened. The door itself had not existed before that moment for the occupants of the room beyond had not been ready to join their fellow elves in the Halls. Námo saw two ellyn step out hesitantly, one of Olórin’s brethren standing behind them with an arm around their shoulders, offering them his support. The ellyn looked very much alike and were obviously twins. They appeared much younger than most of the elves around them.

Námo sighed. He had hesitated to bring these two here. Normally elflings who died were housed in their own Halls, the Mardi Winiron, where their fëar were allowed to mature to adulthood before they were released. These two however were different and they would prove important to Glorfindel’s own healing. He also hoped Glorfindel would be instrumental in helping the twins to recover from the trauma that had brought them to Mandos.

Vala and Maia watched as Glorfindel looked up and noticed the newcomers. He rose gracefully from the floor and walked over to the ellyn. They were probably only thirty years old and they looked scared, clutching each other’s hand.

"Mae govannen, pennith. My name is Glorfindel," the golden-haired elf said with great gentleness. Glorfindel vaguely noticed that he always seemed to know which language should be spoken to newcomers, whether Quenya or Sindarin. He did not really question it, but it was there in the back of his mind and he sometimes wondered how he knew.

The Maia standing behind the twins smiled warmly at the former Balrog slayer. "Mae govannen, Glorfindel. These are Elurín and Eluréd. They’ve recently arrived. They could use a good friend. Would you like to be their friend?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Oh yes. That is if it’s all right with you two."

The twins glanced up at the Maia as if seeking reassurance and Calimo nodded, offering the elflings his warmest smile. As one they returned their gaze to Glorfindel, then one of them, Glorfindel couldn’t remember which, reached out and took the older elf’s hand.

"Come. Let’s play," Glorfindel said with an encouraging smile.

The twins smiled and after introducing them to Beleg, Saeros, Finduilas and a few others with whom Glorfindel often played, they were soon all running around in a vigorous game of catch-me. Before long Námo was pleased to see the twin sons of Dior laughing and shrieking with the rest, though they never let go of each other’s hands. When most of the elves, including the twins, collapsed into a heap fast asleep, only Glorfindel and one or two others were still awake. As the Maiar attendants began sorting out fëar, Námo saw Glorfindel sitting beside the sleeping forms of the twins, singing to them softly the same lullaby Námo had sung to him once upon a time.

****

"And how is our Balrog-slayer these days, brother?" Manwë asked as he and Námo stood on the balcony of the main audience chamber of the Valar on Taniquetil. They were enjoying the view of Anar rising above the ocean as dawn came to Aman.

Námo chuckled. "He’s become quite the mother hen where Dior’s sons are concerned. And the twins follow him around like chicks."

Manwë chuckled, his eyes glowing with amusement at the image his brother sent him.

"Good, good," he said and winked. "He needs the practice."

The two Valar laughed.

"Will you be releasing him soon?"

Námo shook his head. "Normally, yes, but I feel he needs more time, as do the twins. Their deaths were particularly gruesome..." He grimaced, unable to complete the thought even to himself. Dior’s sons had not died easily nor quickly and their fëar had come to him in such pain and horror that he had wept to see them. It was especially terrible that these were children who had died without any comprehension of what was happening to them or why.

Their Maiar attendants had done their best but the twins proved unresponsive, refusing to be loved, refusing to play with the other children, refusing to be comforted, and refusing to be parted from one another. They had died hand-in-hand; they weren’t about to let death separate them even for a second.

Glorfindel had "adopted" them immediately, sensing their need without understanding its source. He had matured himself in the intervening years since his own death, though he did not realize it. His fëa glowed now with the memory of the Light of the Two Trees, though he had ceased to remember that time while dwelling in these Halls. He was often the first to greet newcomers, much as his friend Finrod had, and was quick to intervene when some of the ellyn and ellith became "overly excited" as Olórin had once put it with a twinkle in his eyes, for while these were adult elves, they had had their innocence restored and were learning again how to be children, and children were often selfish. One of the tasks of the Maiar was to lead these innocent ones on the path to true maturity. Only when they had achieved it were they then ready to be Reborn.

"Findaráto pines for his friend," Manwë said casually, "and chafes at the seeming delay."

"Many of the Children chafe at the seeming delay of the release of their loved ones," Námo commented with a lift of an eyebrow. "Why has Finrod’s impatience drawn the interest of the Elder King?"

"Not just my beloved’s interest, but mine as well."

The two Valar turned to see Varda standing there, smiling at them, the light of the living stars wreathed above her head undimmed by the glow of the Sun. Námo noticed the looks that passed between the other two Valar as Varda joined them on the balcony though he was not privy to their silent communication. It was rare that any of the other Valar, even Manwë, ever questioned or interfered with his decisions as to who would be released and when. He wondered what made this situation different.

"Would either of you care to explain?" he said with an ironic smile.

Manwë turned to the Lord of Mandos with his own smile. "Events are happening in the outside world that require our attention. Both Finrod and Glorfindel are destined to play pivotal roles in the affairs of Arda, though only one will return to Middle-earth. You know this. We have all seen it."

Námo nodded. "Yes, but the time is not yet right. Release Glorfindel too soon and it will all be for naught."

"Arafinwë is concerned," Varda said with a slight sigh. "His son does not attend to his duties as he should, pining for his friend. Every time the Andondi Entulessëo are opened, he is there looking vainly for one he loves as a brother."

Námo sighed, then nodded. "Send Finrod to me."

****

Finrod stood nervously before the silent Vala, his heart in his throat. The summons by Námo, Lord of Mandos, had frightened him and he had feared he was being sent back to be Unhoused again for some reason. His atar had assured him that this was not the case, but looking at the grave expression on the Vala’s face, Finrod was not so sure.

As if divining the ellon’s thoughts, Námo’s visage lightened somewhat. "There is nothing to fear, my son. Come and sit by me."

Námo motioned towards a bench and sat. The ellon hesitated for a moment before complying, sitting stiffly beside the Vala. They were in one of the gardens of Lórien where Námo’s brother Irmo ruled. The scent of honeysuckle and roses mingled heavily in the air. Butterflies flitted about in lazy patterns and birds sang quietly as if reluctant to disturb the peace of the place overmuch.

Námo placed a hand on Finrod’s back and began to unobtrusively rub it in an attempt to calm him. Slowly the peace of the gardens and Námo’s ministrations brought Finrod to a more relaxed state and he visibly sighed as tension left his body.

"That’s better," Námo said with a smile and Finrod returned it with a sheepish smile of his own.

"You are concerned for your friend, aren’t you?" Námo asked gently.

Finrod looked at the Vala in surprise, then nodded, not trusting himself to speak, too overwhelmed by emotions he only half understood. He remembered his time in the Halls of Renewal very clearly, though he never spoke of them to anyone, not even to his atar and amillë, too embarrassed at the memory of how like an elfling he had acted, playing silly games and falling suddenly asleep as babies were wont to do. He also remembered his friendship with Glorfindel and wished they could be reunited in Life.

"You must not fear for Glorfindel," Námo said. "He is well and happy. He misses you, too, but he has made new friends and has begun to take on new responsibilities. As must you, son of Arafinwë. It is why you were released from my care. Do not make me regret that decision by your neglect of those duties."

This last was said somewhat sternly and Finrod quailed inside and gulped. "I’m sorry," he whispered, feeling very much the elfling, tears beginning to roll down his face. He had noticed since his return to Aman how much he still reacted as if he were only thirty. His amillë had assured him that that was just a consequence of being Reborn and that, as he became used to being re-embodied, he would gain greater control over his emotions.

It had not happened yet, and he feared it never would.

Námo smiled sympathetically and wiped the tears from Finrod’s face with a gentle finger. "Now, no tears, child. You will see your friend soon. You and he will have many years together, just like before."

"Pr-promise?" he blurted out unthinkingly and then flushed in mortification. He was the one-time King of Nargothrond and son of the King of the Noldor and here he was sounding like an elfling again. He felt himself plunging into a state of despair.

Námo merely laughed, gathered this beloved Child in his arms and kissed him on the brow. "Promise."

That simple gesture gave Finrod great pleasure and he sighed contentedly as he allowed himself to be held in the Vala’s arms. Memories of another time and place flooded him and he found himself falling asleep with the sound of Námo singing a well-known lullaby.

When he awoke, it was to find himself back in his own bed in his atar’s house, his favorite stuffed animal from when he truly had been an elfling snuggled in his arms.

****

Glorfindel was resting in his sleeping chamber, his mind beginning to drift. It was the first time in a long time that he had felt the need for sleep, but in truth the twins wore him out. He chuckled at the thought. Not that he minded. They were adorable elflings and he felt fiercely protective of them. They had been so scared when they had come to the Halls and Glorfindel and the others had taken great pains to ease them of their fears. Being so young, the twins still slept often and their playtime was generally shorter in comparison to the adults’. Glorfindel had decided to take advantage of this and was resting himself.

His eyes were nearly glazing over as he slipped onto the Path of Dreams, for he no longer slept involuntarily, when Vanimeldë, one of his Maiar attendants, appeared and shook him gently.

"Wake up Glorfindel."

Glorfindel started, his eyes focusing. "What’s wrong?"

"Come. You are needed," was all the Maia would say and Glorfindel found himself being gently but firmly pulled from his bed. He followed the Maia out into the Hall where she led him to another door which opened silently before they reached it.

Glorfindel stopped, suddenly feeling afraid and uncertain. It seemed to be an unwritten rule, never questioned, that none entered another’s sleeping chamber. In all the time Glorfindel had dwelt in Mandos he had never known any but the Maiar to enter his own chamber and now he was being led to the sleeping chamber of another and he did not know why.

Vanimeldë took his arm and made him come with her. "Fear not, my elfling. All is well. Lord Námo requires your assistance."

Glorfindel looked at the Maia in wonder and allowed himself to be led into the chamber without further protest. Inside he immediately noticed an over-large sleeping couch where Elurín and Eluréd lay together. Two other Maiar — one of them Calimo, the other, Olórin — were there as was Námo himself. The Lord of Mandos was sitting on the edge of the couch attempting to calm the two writhing figures lying there, their hands entwined, their eyes closed and their mouths open. They were obviously screaming, though only strained whimpers could be heard. Nothing the Lord of Mandos did could bring them out of the nightmare that held them enthralled.

Námo saw Glorfindel standing hesitantly at the doorway and motioned with his hand. "Come, child. You are needed."

"What’s wrong, sir? Why do they not waken?" Glorfindel asked as he approached the bed.

"I do not know, but I think you may be able to help me bring them out of their nightmare."

"How?"

Námo smiled warmly. "That is for you to decide, my son. Do as you think best."

For a long moment Glorfindel stood there staring at the pathetic scene before him. The twins were obviously in pain as the terror of the nightmare they seemed to be sharing held them. Pity swept through his fëa and he felt himself weeping at the sight. Unaware of what he was doing, he crawled onto the bed, practically climbing over Námo to do so, much to the Vala’s amusement. He tried to lie down between the twins but their interlocked hands would not allow him to. So, instead, he knelt between their legs, laid a hand on each of their chests and began to rub them gently as he sang a lullaby.

Námo sat perfectly still and the Maiar standing around them did not move. Slowly, the twins ceased their writhing and their mouths closed. Glorfindel did not stop his ministrations, nor his song, but continued both, singing the words of the lullaby over and over again for what seemed like years to him. He felt his arms grow heavy but he did not stop. At last, with a sigh, both twins fell into real sleep, their faces peaceful once again.

Glorfindel slowed his rubbing and sang the final verses of the lullaby in a whisper. He leaned over and gently kissed each twin on the forehead. "I love you," he whispered to each. "I always will."

He did not think they actually heard him in their sleep and he was about to climb out of the bed when he heard a small gasp from one of the Maiar and turned back to see the hands that had always been entwined slowly open up. He glanced at Námo in wonder and with a question in his eyes. The Lord of Mandos nodded slightly, smiling, and Glorfindel found himself smiling back. Then he moved the twins’ arms enough to settle himself between them. Instinctively, the twins, who never woke, rolled towards him until they lay nestled in his arms, fingers now entwined in Glorfindel’s golden locks.

Glorfindel was never aware of the Maiar leaving them, so enthralled was he by the emotions that swept over him as "his elflings" snuggled against him in complete trust. He looked up with tears shining in his eyes to see the Lord of Mandos smiling down at him.

Námo leaned down and kissed Glorfindel’s brow, stroking his head. "I think you’ll do," he whispered, his heart full of gladness at the knowledge that these three Children in his keeping were making great progress towards healing.

****

Words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Mardi Envinyato: Halls of Renewal/Healing.

Mae govannen, pennith: (Sindarin) Well met, younglings.

Mardi Winiron: Halls of Babes; literally, "Halls of Children not yet fully grown".

Andondi Entulessëo: The Great Gates of Return in Lórien, where those released from Mandos are greeted by their loved ones.

Amillë: Mother.

Historical Note: Eluréd and Elurín, twin sons of Dior and Nimloth of Doriath, were born in 500 and died in 507 when Doriath was sacked, thus they would have been the equivalent of 4 years old in human terms.