11: Artelemnar and Sador

In some ways Lórien proved a disappointment to Glorfindel. Not that he wasn’t happy. The gardens of Irmo were havens of peace and the groves were beautiful beyond description. Nevertheless, he did not find it easy to live there.

For one thing, he was forced to share a pavilion with two other ellyn, also recently Reborn. Learning to live with others, after having been alone for so long, proved harder than he had thought. He did not know either of them. One was a Noldo named Artelemnar. He told Glorfindel that he had been a warrior under Celegorm and had died in his lord’s service. Glorfindel assumed he had died fighting in one of the battles against Morgoth. The other was a Sinda named Sador who had died when Maedhros and Maglor had attacked the elves at the Havens of Sirion. Sador had been quite young at the time, only sixty-eight years old. He told Glorfindel he did not know if any of his family had survived. Glorfindel felt sorry for the young ellon, bereft of parents and a younger sister.

Artelemnar refused to speak Sindarin to either Glorfindel or Sador now that he was back in Aman and no longer under Elu Thingol’s ban and insisted on calling them both by their Quenya names, Laurefindil and Voronwë, which they both hated. Glorfindel, in retaliation, would sometimes tease Artelemnar by calling him Celepharn instead. Sador, for his part, struggled to speak the High-Elven tongue but found it difficult and when he made a mistake Artelemnar wasn’t above laughing at him.

For that alone, Glorfindel disliked him and took Sador’s side, speaking Sindarin to him but encouraging him with gentle smiles to speak Quenya as often as possible, patiently correcting him without making the Sinda feel stupid, as Artelemnar was wont to do.

Glorfindel also still did not know what was expected of him once he left the confines of Lórien. Where was he to go, and what was he to do? He had been too young when he had left Aman to have had any real life to which he might return. He had no skills that anyone in Aman would appreciate or need.

"You can play the harp," Sador pointed out to him one day and it was true.

When Irmo and Estë had led him to his pavilion he had found a harp lying on his cot. It was beautifully wrought and Glorfindel had picked it up almost reverently. He had tried to play a simple melody but his fingers had forgotten too much and the best he could do was awkwardly pluck at the strings. Irmo had assured him that with practice he would regain his former mastery and arranged for one of the Lóriennildi to tutor him.

Still, it wasn’t enough, or so Glorfindel thought.

"I was a warrior," he explained to Sador one evening as the two sat under a tree outside their pavilion and watched the stars come out. "It’s all I’ve been since leaving Aman. It’s all I know."

Sador was quiet for a while, and when he spoke, he spoke almost in a whisper. "You know friendship and loyalty and... and love. You know what it feels like to die and to be reborn and have to learn all over again how to move your fingers. You know lots of things besides being a warrior."

Glorfindel stared at his friend for a long moment, amazed at the wisdom from this unassuming Sinda. "Perhaps," he finally conceded, "but none of these will find me work or a purpose."

"Are you so sure of that, son of Gondolin?"

Glorfindel looked up in surprise. "Olórin!" He leaped up and practically fell into the Maia’s waiting embrace, laughing with delight to see his friend.

Olórin laughed in turn as he hugged the ellon. "Ai, Glorfindel, you are a sight for sore eyes. Now come, introduce me to your friend."

Glorfindel complied and Sador shyly tried to greet the Maia in Quenya, though he feared he did not do it successfully. "Elen híla... lú...lúmenna... omentiemmo," he said slowly, almost cringing as he waited for some criticism about his dismal attempt at Quenya to fall from the Maia’s lips.

Olórin, however, smiled warmly and, clasping the Sinda by the shoulder, kissed him gently on the brow and said, "No in elenath híluvar am râd gîn." Sador smiled hugely and Glorfindel grinned, pleased that his new friend had at least tried his best.

Artelemnar, who had come out of the pavilion at Glorfindel’s cry and had heard Sador’s attempt at Quenya, sneered at the Sinda. "Can’t even get a simple greeting correct, can you?"

Sador looked at Glorfindel in dismay, and turned away, not wanting to embarrass his friend in front of the Maia, but Olórin took him gently by the shoulder and held him close. He ignored Artelemnar and spoke to Sador instead, stroking the ellon’s hair. "I think you did very well and better than most I know. Do not let Artelemnar’s words wound you. You are coming along just fine. Lord Irmo is very pleased with your progress."

Sador looked up at the Maia in surprise. "H-he is?"

"Oh yes," Olórin answered with a smile and kissed the young elf on the brow again before releasing him. Then he turned to Artelemnar, his expression darkening and the ellon took an uncertain step back. Olórin said nothing at first, merely holding the ellon in his gaze and the weight of the Maia’s authority fell upon Artelemnar and he blanched.

"We had hoped that you at least would have learned simple courtesy during your time in Mandos, my son, if nothing else," Olórin said quietly, though there was a sternness in his voice that Glorfindel had never heard before. "You are allowing your previous arrogance to rule you. It led to you committing the most heinous acts upon your fellow Elves when you joined in the Kinslayings at Alqualondë and Doriath. It led eventually to your own ignoble death. Take care it does not lead you to something even worse."

Both Glorfindel and Sador stared at Artelemnar in surprise. They knew something of each other’s history, of course, but no details. Glorfindel, for instance, had only told them he had died when Gondolin fell. Artelemnar was already dead by then and Sador had been an elfling of forty, living with his family in the Havens of Sirion after having fled Doriath. He had felt no need to give them any further details. It was not that he was ashamed or anything, but simply because it no longer mattered to him. Artelemnar’s history however shed a new light on the elf’s antipathy towards the Sinda.

"Y...you were at Doriath?" Sador asked in a strangled voice that was barely recognizable even to him.

"And if I was?" Artelemnar answered defiantly. "You Sindar rats deserved what you had coming to you for denying my lord Celegorm the Silmaril."

"Celepharn! You forget yourself," Glorfindel yelled, furious for his friend’s sake, if not his own.

Sador, on the other hand, could only stare at Artelemnar in white-faced shock. The memories of the horror and terror he had felt as an elfling fleeing before the wrath of the Noldor and their Dwarven allies and the newer memories of being skewered by an enraged Noldo as he tried to protect his little sister began to overwhelm him and Sador ran towards a stand of holly bushes where he became violently ill.

He felt Glorfindel kneeling beside him, holding him in the throes of his misery as he continued being sick. "I’m sorry... I’m sorry..." was all he could say as the last wave of nausea passed and he began crying.

"Hush, mellon nîn," Glorfindel said gently. "There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come, let’s get you cleaned up." He helped Sador rise and kept a firm grip on the younger elf who was still feeling weak. They made their way to the pavilion. There was no sign of either Olórin or Artelemnar. Glorfindel helped Sador out of his sick-stained clothes and into a nightshirt before ordering the ellon into bed. As early as it was, Sador did not complain and in truth a great weariness enfolded him and he wished nothing more than to sleep and forget.

Glorfindel took up his harp and sat by Sador’s cot, tuning the instrument to "Silmë ar Aldu", an ancient mode from before the Darkening of Valinor. He softly played the lullaby he had heard so many times in Mandos. It was the first piece of music he had learned to play here in Lórien and was his favorite. Sador’s body relaxed under the spell of Glorfindel’s playing and soon sleep took him.

Glorfindel played for a while longer and then set the harp gently down before making his way outside and stopped in surprise. He found himself face-to-face with the Lord of Lórien. Glorfindel bowed low and Irmo nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Asleep?" the Vala asked.

Glorfindel nodded. "Artelemnar?"

Irmo shook his head. "He’s being seen to."

The Vala’s tone shook Glorfindel and he felt himself shuddering. Irmo took him into his arms and began rubbing his back to calm him. "Fear not, my Balrog-slayer. No harm will come to him. Artelemnar needs further lessoning before he can continue towards maturity."

"W-will he be Un-unhoused?" Glorfindel didn’t like Artelemnar all that much, but he didn’t want him to be punished that severely.

The Vala stepped back in surprise. "Good gracious, no, child. Even if we had such power, we certainly don’t have the authority. No, Artelemnar is safe from that fate, I assure you." Irmo smiled. "That isn’t to say, though, that he won’t wish he were Unhoused instead. Some lessons are harsher than others, I fear."

Glorfindel still felt troubled and it must have shown on his face, for Irmo sighed. "I promise you, Glorfindel, no harm will befall Artelemnar. Do you think someone like Olórin would ever be anything but kind, even to the most recalcitrant soul? You are Eru’s Children and we can do naught but love you and wish you only joy."

Irmo’s words reassured Glorfindel and the ellon nodded his understanding. "What will happen to him, sir?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing much," the Vala shrugged. "We have a place here in Lórien for those who may need some time alone for reflection. Artelemnar will be given that time, as long as he needs. When he is ready to rejoin the rest of you, he will. Now, let us not concern ourselves with what is not any of our business in the first place, shall we?" He gave the elf a piercing look and Glorfindel was suitably chastened.

"Forgive me..."

"Tush, child. Your concern even for someone for whom you do not care does you great credit and I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t expressed such feelings towards another. But the matter is out of your hands now."

Glorfindel nodded, taking a deep breath. "That’s better," Irmo said with a smile. "Now, go bring your harp out and let me hear what you can do."

Glorfindel bowed briefly and did as the Vala bade and soon he was sitting on a stool that Irmo had conveniently conjured for him. He suddenly felt shy and was unsure what would be considered suitable music to play before one of the Powers. He did not know many songs yet, and most were rather simple tunes like the lullaby he had played for Sador.

"Play what’s in your heart, child," Irmo said, divining his thoughts. "All music, however simple, is a reflection of the Great Song that brought everything into existence. The simplest melody sung or played from the heart is no less an acceptable tribute to that Song than the most complex piece ever composed."

Glorfindel nodded and after a brief hesitation decided to play the lullaby, seeing as how the harp was already tuned for it. As he played he found himself humming along and then he began singing the words, words he had heard only within his fëa as it lay at rest in the Halls of Mandos. He lost himself in the song, remembering the sense of security and love that tune always evoked within him and was unaware that tears fell from his face until a gentle hand wiped them away. He looked up into the face of the Lady Estë, who was smiling down at him. Irmo stood nearby, his expression inscrutable.

"That was beautiful, Glorfindel," Estë said, her smile deepening. "I had no idea you had such a lovely singing voice."

"Thank you, my lady," Glorfindel said, his voice hoarse with tears, feeling somewhat embarrassed. He was not sure why he was crying. It was just a stupid little lullaby after all. Not one of those great lays he had heard some of the Lóriennildi sing in the evening.

"You weep, child, because you must," came the unexpected reply from Irmo. "You weep for Sador who lies within dreaming of his little sister whom he tried to protect from Maedhros’ madness. You weep for a young life cut brutally short. You even weep for Artelemnar, for all the pain of guilt that consumes him, and I think you weep for yourself."

The Vala paused and stepped forward, standing next to his spouse, and took the harp out of the ellon’s hands. "Not all tears are an evil, Glorfindel. Weep and be renewed."

With that, the Vala began to play and Glorfindel cried out, the music piercing him to the very core of his fëa, the song a terrible beauty from which he cringed yet yearned to embrace. He never afterwards could recall the melodies the Vala brought forth from the harp, but he remembered the feelings they evoked, feelings of joy and sorrow and deep longing, but for what, he could not say. He remembered throwing off his clothes and dancing in the glade under the stars, alone or with Another, he wasn’t sure, only that he felt he could dance forever. In the end he found himself huddled in Estë’s lap, still naked, and weeping as if he would never stop. The Valië held him and rocked him as the music played on. Finally, his weeping stilled as Irmo brought the music to a close, all tears spent, and a great calm filled him, set him floating in a world of uncaring for himself, content to simply be.

He felt himself being lifted up into Irmo’s arms and then he was being lowered into his bed, the covers pulled up. He opened his eyes, though it was a struggle to do so, and saw both Valar standing above him, looking at him with such love that he wanted to weep again. Irmo placed a finger to the ellon’s lips and shook his head.

"No tears, now. Sleep and be comforted."

Glorfindel gave a great sigh and fell gratefully asleep, never knowing that the Lord of Lórien and his beloved spouse stayed the rest of that night in the pavilion, watching over the two ellyn who slept there under their care.

****

Lóriennildi: (Quenya) "Followers of Lórien" [Lórien + -hildi]. Elves of Aman in the service to Lord Irmo whose task it is to act as counselors to the Reborn and see to their needs, both physical and spiritual. The name is modeled after Yavannildi, the name given to the female elves who knew and kept the secret of the making of coimas (lembas). The Lóriennildi, however, could be of either gender: Lóriennildo (males) and Lóriennildë (females).

No in elenath híluvar am râd gîn: (Sindarin) "May all the stars shine upon your path" [literally, "May it be all the stars in the night sky will shine upon your path"].

Sador’s greeting to Olórin is incorrect on three counts: 1) he mutates síla, since in Sindarin verbs are mutated if they follow the subject, as is the case in Olórin’s greeting; 2) he does not elide the last vowel of lúmenna into the initial vowel of the next word, a normal practice in Quenya but rare in Sindarin; and, 3) he confuses the first person plural exclusive pronoun with the first person plural dual, a common mistake as Sindarin differentiates between exclusive and inclusive 'we' but not the dual 'we'. As everyone knows, the correct greeting is: Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo. Olórin, of course, ignores all this, awarding effort with courtesy by speaking his greeting in Sindarin.

Mellon nîn: (Sindarin) My friend.

Silmë ar Aldu: (Quenya) Starlight and the Two Trees.

Note on names: Sador means "Faithful One". The Quenya equivalent would be Voronwë. Sador was the name of Túrin’s faithful servant. Artelemnar means "Royal Silver-flame", a reference, of course to Telperion. When the Noldor came to Beleriand and adopted Sindarin names, Artelemnar changed his name to Celepharn, which means "Royal Silver". Celepharn is also the name of one of the kings of Arthedain. Glorfindel’s name would be rendered Laurefindil in Quenya.

Historical note: Sador was born in 470 in Doriath, a year before the Dagor Nirnaeth Arnediad, the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. Doriath fell in 507 and so he was only 37 (15 in human years) when he and his family fled to the Havens with Elwing and the silmaril. When he died thirty-one years later, he was only 28 in human terms.