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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

14: Adjustments

They arrived at the palace in Tirion in the early evening where a cold repast awaited them. Arafinwë noticed that Finrod was more relaxed and open than he had been since passing through the Gates of Return to be reunited with his parents. He laughed and joked with Glorfindel, smoothly including Sador in their banter until all three ellyn were teasing each other. Arafinwë and Eärwen found themselves grinning as well, the joy of the three Reborn infectious. Amarië also found herself smiling in amusement.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, having this Laur... no, this Glorfindel, around might not be a bad idea. Certainly, she realized, Findaráto’s attitude had changed remarkably now that he was reunited with his friend. Perhaps she could exploit that to her advantage.

As they ate and talked it became apparent that Glorfindel knew certain members of the King’s family yet Arafinwë was sure he had never set eyes on the ellon before this.

"I am a couple of decades younger than your daughter, my lord," Glorfindel explained. "I remember playing with her as an elfling, tagging along after Turucáno. Findaráto was already an adult by then, so I had nothing to do with him. Then, during the Crossing," and here both he and Finrod looked grim and Arafinwë wondered at that. He knew what the elf meant by the word, but he had never been able to learn the details of that journey. "I was in Turucáno’s retinue, but I often saw Galad... er... Artanis with Itarildë after Elenwë...."

Glorfindel could not go on and the others respected him by not pressing, though Amarië looked as if she wanted to ask further after Elenwë. Finrod sent her a quelling glance and she thought better of it.

Once the meal was over, Glorfindel admitted to feeling fatigued and Sador nodded in agreement. Finrod stood up. "I felt the same way when I first returned. I think I slept for days. I will show you your rooms. Everything has been prepared."

With that, Glorfindel and Sador bade the others good-night and with a bow to the King and his Queen followed Finrod out. He led them to a suite of rooms which were in the same wing as his own. "My rooms are actually just down the hall on your left."

After pointing out the necessary features of their suite, Finrod bade his friends good-night, leaving Glorfindel and Sador standing there looking at one another.

Sometime later, Arafinwë glanced inside the suite he had assigned to Glorfindel and Sador to find their beds were empty. Concerned, he moved down the hall to his son’s room and peeking in, after receiving no answer to his knock, he found Finrod and Glorfindel sleeping hand-in-hand while Sador sat beside them on the wide bed, stroking their hair and humming softly. He looked up when Arafinwë came in and smiled.

"They couldn’t sleep," he whispered in explanation, then slid down to lie next to Glorfindel, his arm around his friend protectively and fell asleep himself. Arafinwë stood there for a moment in surprise at the three slumbering ellyn, reminding him of puppies sleeping in a huddle. He chuckled at the image and pulled a blanket out of the press and wrapped it around the sleeping forms, kissing each softly on the forehead. None stirred, but Finrod smiled in his sleep. Then he sat in a chair, content to spend the night watching over his son.

No... sons. It seemed that Lord Námo could not give him back all his other children yet, so instead he had given him two orphans who needed his love and support. In retrospect he decided it was an equitable trade.

****

The three ellyn woke almost simultaneously. Glorfindel shared a smile with Finrod in greeting then started when he sat up and saw Arafinwë sitting in a chair watching them with an amused look on his face. Sador gave a small yelp and tried to hide under the covers, having quite forgotten seeing the King enter the bedroom the night before. Finrod, for his part, merely yawned and stretched.

"Good morning, Atar."

"Good morning, yonya. I trust you and your friends slept well?"

Finrod merely grinned as he climbed out of the bed and reached for a robe.

"Have you been sitting here all night, sir?" Glorfindel asked while simultaneously pulling the covers off Sador and pushing him out of the bed. Sador gave a half-muttered curse as he landed on the floor that raised more than one eyebrow in the room.

"Does your amillë know you talk like that?" Finrod asked with a grin and the others laughed while Sador climbed to his feet and tried to apologize.

Arafinwë waved a hand in dismissal and stood. "Breakfast is in half an hour. Don’t be late." With that the King left to attend to his own needs. Glorfindel and Sador made their way back to their own suite where they proceeded to make themselves presentable.

Finrod escorted them to the family’s private dining hall where Eärwen greeted them with a smile. Amarië smiled as well and gave them a courteous greeting, asking if they had all slept well, though she didn’t really bother to wait for an answer, going to the sideboard to fix a plate for herself. Glorfindel gave Finrod an appraising look and grinned when his friend grimaced and shrugged.

The meal was informal and relaxed. Glorfindel found himself remembering such meals with Turgon when the king would call his councillors to join him for breakfast and they would discuss affairs of state in an informal setting. It was strangely familiar and he found he was enjoying himself more than he expected. He glanced at Sador, who was looking somewhat ill at ease and gave him an encouraging smile.

"I have decided to suspend your normal duties for the next few days, Findaráto," Arafinwë said at one point. "You should take the time to show Glorfindel and Sador around and introduce them to some of your friends."

Finrod grimaced. "If I had any, I would."

"Perhaps if you made an effort, dear," Eärwen said quietly. There was no recrimination in her voice, merely motherly concern.

"They don’t want anything to do with me, Amillë, unless they think they can get something out of Atar through me."

Arafinwë shook his head. "An occupational hazard, yonya. Being King of the Noldor does have its downside. But not all of the younger members of this court are sycophants. You just haven’t given them a chance."

Finrod sighed, unconsciously shredding a piece of toast. Glorfindel reached over and slapped him gently on the hand. "Stop that, meldonya. Didn’t your amillë teach you not to play with your food?"

Finrod looked up at Glorfindel in surprise, the retort dying on his lips when he saw the twinkle of amusement in his friend’s eyes and laughed somewhat ruefully as he dropped what was left of the toast onto his plate. "Sorry, I didn’t realize..."

Glorfindel nodded. "You will take us on a tour and you will introduce us to whomever we meet with all the grace of a prince. Let’s worry about the rest later, shall we?"

Arafinwë raised an eyebrow at Glorfindel’s tone, but did not intervene. Here was one, he suspected, who would not let Findaráto get away with anything, including self-pity. Yes, this Glorfindel was definitely good for his son.

For his part, Finrod merely looked at his friend with an air of pretended insult. "Who died and left you in charge of my life?"

Glorfindel laughed and the sound of it was so joyous as to leave its hearers breathless with wonder. "I can’t believe Lord Námo let you out without a keeper. Whatever was he thinking? He should at least have sent me along to keep you in line."

Finrod sputtered. "As I recall, you were lying in Lord Námo’s arms weeping like an elfling when I left."

The golden-haired elf sniffed disdainfully. "A minor detail. I’m sure if Lord Námo had been thinking straight he would have waited until I was ready to leave with you before sending you from Mandos to plague Aman with your presence."

Now Finrod laughed. "I’m sure he’ll be delighted to listen to your critique of his handling of his charges. He might even thank you for it... just before he kills you and sends you back to Mandos for good."

Sador snorted at that. "Lord Námo probably threw a party for the other Valar the day he finally got rid of Glorfindel. I don’t think he’ll appreciate having to put up with Glorfindel’s whining again for the rest of Arda’s existence."

"I never whine!" the former Balrog slayer exclaimed, then all three were laughing uproariously.

Arafinwë exchanged a bemused look with Eärwen, not sure how to react to the easy manner in which these three spoke of Lord Námo or their time in the Halls of Mandos. Even joking about being sent back. He remembered the way some of his people had acted in the presence of his son when he first had returned to them. They had been, not frightened, but definitely uneasy around him and perhaps Findaráto still resented them for it.

Now, looking at his firstborn laughing as he threw a piece of toast at Glorfindel, who deftly caught it before stuffing it into his mouth, he realized that his son had not been pining for his friend so much as he had been trying to find acceptance from others. He had been suffering from loneliness and even shyness, his emotions too raw and near the surface as he attempted to reintegrate himself back into the life he had left so many centuries before. They all — and Arafinwë ruefully included himself — had treated Findaráto as an oddity for having died and been reborn when what his son had really needed was to feel normal. Though frankly there was nothing normal about the whole situation to begin with.

Arafinwë shook his head as if to clear it of such thoughts and smiled instead, deciding to enjoy the banter between the three ellyn and rejoice that his firstborn had been returned to him.

"Why were you crying in Lord Námo’s arms?" Amarië asked Glorfindel, but it was not simple curiosity that drove her to ask the question. Her tone suggested a hint of contempt.

"Hush, dear," Eärwen admonished. "That sort of thing is never spoken of."

Glorfindel was disinclined to answer, but surprisingly Finrod addressed his betrothed. "We’ve all ended up weeping in Lord Námo’s arms at least once during our time in Mandos, Amarië. Our fëar were like children and children often need comforting from the adults around them."

"Even you?" Amarië asked incredulously.

Finrod smiled. "Oh, yes, even I, and more than once that I recall. Lord Námo often calmed me by singing a lullaby."

He then began singing softly an ancient lullaby, his eyes going distant with memory. Glorfindel and Sador grinned at each other and by the second verse had joined in. Arafinwë sat there listening, trying to imagine the forbidding Lord of Mandos singing such a song to the fëar under his care. Somehow, that image comforted him as nothing else had and for the first time he truly believed that his other two sons were safe and happy in Mandos and that the Valar loved them as deeply as he, if not more so.

He never noticed the tears running down his face until Eärwen leaned over with a handkerchief and gently wiped them away.

****

Over the next few days Arafinwë noticed a change in attitude from several of his courtiers. Where they had been stiffly proper in their treatment of Findaráto, now they seemed to be more relaxed whenever his son was in their presence. He suspected that Glorfindel had much to do with it. The golden-haired elf held himself with an air of easy grace. He was not arrogant or prideful, but neither was he subservient. He was courteous to all, but he did not suffer fools gladly and he treated the lowest member of the King’s household with the same respect as he treated the King himself.

Sador, they safely ignored, and while the young elf did not seem to mind, both Finrod and Glorfindel were angered by the lack of respect the Sinda was receiving.

"I’m a potter and the son of a potter," Sador said after Finrod complained on his behalf to his atar during dinner one night. "I’m no hero and no Elf-lord to command respect. I am grateful for your friendship, Lord Finrod, but I do know my place."

"Your place?" Finrod retorted. "Your place should be beside your family, living in peace. Instead you died trying to protect your sister and spent the next several centuries in Mandos. Your place is where I say it is and I say it is beside me as my friend and if the rest of the court doesn’t like it they can go hang."

The Noldorin prince stormed out of the room, leaving everyone there nonplused, unable to look at each other. Finally, Arafinwë cleared his throat and spoke to Sador, who was downcast and feeling guilty for being the cause of so much trouble.

"Sador, look at me." The young ellon looked up into the face of the King, who smiled kindly at him. "My son, precipitous though he is, is correct. You have nothing for which you need be ashamed. You have lived a life and have died a death none of my people have ever experienced, nor will they. Son of a potter or no, you have my deepest respect."

And to the amazement of all, Sador not the least, the King of the Noldor stood and bowed to the young ellon. Glorfindel watched with a smile on his face.

****

Glorfindel went to find Finrod after that, telling Sador that perhaps he should look for the prince by himself.

"He might not like an audience," Glorfindel had said and Sador agreed, saying he would return to their suite and await him.

Glorfindel eventually found Finrod sitting in an oak tree out by one of the gardens surrounding the palace.

"Now, I would have thrown all my clothes off before climbing the tree," the golden-haired elf said as he ascended the tree to sit on the branch just below the one Finrod was on.

Finrod just snorted. "The last time I did that, Atar gave me a lecture that would have had Lord Námo on his knees quaking."

Glorfindel laughed lightly. "I’ll remember that the next time the urge takes me, then."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to be sure you were well, meldonya."

Finrod sighed. "I am well, but I am troubled."

"Tell me."

Finrod looked down at his friend, their eyes meeting. "What did we do to deserve so much contempt?"

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at that. "You mean the Noldor who fled Aman? Well, that’s easy..."

"No, I mean all of us. You, me, Sador..."

"Ah, now I see," Glorfindel said and shrugged. "Died?"

"Why would that..."

"Finrod," Glorfindel interrupted somewhat sharply. "Death is not a natural condition of the Firstborn as it is with the Secondborn. You and I and Sador and all the other Reborn are an embarrassment, a stain on the perfection that is Aman and the Once-born cannot handle it."

"Is that what you call them?" Finrod said with an amused snigger.

"Why? What do you call them?" Glorfindel asked, hiding a smile.

Finrod snorted. "Nothing good and my amillë would skin me alive if she ever heard the words I use to describe them."

"Huh. Well, in that case, you’re free to borrow mine if it keeps you safe from your amillë."

For a few moments the two friends sat in companionable silence.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Finrod finally asked.

"We? Where do you get the idea that 'we' will do anything?"

"What, the famous Balrog-slayer not up to the challenge?"

"Fine. ‘We’ then, but I’m including Sador in that ‘we’."

"I wouldn’t have it any other way." Finrod bent down and reached out a hand which Glorfindel took and pulled his friend up to his branch. "Just don’t whine about it, all right?"

"I never whine!" Glorfindel practically screamed and the tree rustled its branches in sleepy disapproval while the two friends laughed.

When Arafinwë’s guards finally tracked the two ellyn down after the King had sent his people out to look for them, they were amazed to find the two ellyn sitting in the oak, their arms wrapped around each other, fast asleep. When Arafinwë was summoned he gave a weary sigh and shook his head, but quietly dismissed the guards as he sat under the tree to watch over the two younger elves himself.

Some adjustments are going to be harder than others, Arafinwë thought sourly as he listened to the gentle breathing of the two above him and then smiled. Perhaps, he admitted to himself, but the alternative didn’t bear thinking about. He leaned against the oak trying to get comfortable. He didn’t really need to sit out here all night standing guard. This was, after all, Tirion, not some wild wood of Endórë where unknown dangers lurked. But he had decided he did not wish to leave the watching of his son to another. He had lost Findaráto once, he would not lose him again.

When Eärwen came out some time later to check on her menfolk it was to find the King of the Noldor fast asleep beneath the oak while high above her son and her son’s friend shared a tree branch for their own bed. Shaking her head in weary amusement, she nestled next to her husband and slipped into the Path of Dreams with a smile on her face.

The next morning when the chief gardener came at dawn to check on her plants she found the royal family asleep either beneath the old oak or in it and slipped quietly away to warn the guards who normally patrolled the area to keep everyone away from the gardens.

****

Turucáno: The Quenya form of the Sindarin Turgon.

Itarildë: The Quenya form of the Sindarin Idril.





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