72: Return to Vanyamar

Long before the storm blew itself out Glorfindel was ready to scream. Only the fact that he was still recovering from his beating prevented him from running out of the cave to brave the blizzard, that and the fact that Yáravinyon had calmly taken away his robe and the fur rugs that made up his bed when Glorfindel tried to leave anyway late on the second day.

"When you are ready to see reason and not act like a petulant elfling, I will return these to you," the older elf said to the ellon raging before him, his face burning with humiliation at how easily Yáravinyon had stripped him of his robe.

Yáravinyon left Glorfindel to himself for a time. At first the younger ellon stood screaming his frustration, pounding his fists on the rock face of the chamber, but finally he wore himself out and collapsed in a huddle upon the cold floor. Thus, it was, when Yáravinyon returned some hours later with a tray of hot food he found Glorfindel lying in a fetal position rocking himself. The older elf sighed and put the tray down. He removed his own robe then reached down and picked the younger elf up as if he were no more than an elfling of ten summers. Glorfindel did not resist as Yáravinyon carried him to the bathing chamber and stepped into the hot pool, lowering the younger elf into the bubbling water.

The ellon gave an involuntary sigh and closed his eyes. Yáravinyon held him in his arms until he felt the ellon begin to relax and then let him go, keeping a steadying hand on his back so Glorfindel’s head remained above water.

"I know how frustrated you’re feeling, my son," the older elf said quietly, "but you cannot go out in the storm. You would be lost and I suspect that Lord Námo would be less than pleased to see your sorry fëa once more in his care."

Glorfindel opened his eyes at that and gave Yáravinyon a tremulous smile that soon turned into tears. "I’m sorry... I’m sorry."

The older elf took him into his embrace and rocked him gently. "I know you are, child. I’m not angry. If anything, you’ve been rather amusing. I’d forgotten how amusing elflings were."

"N-not an elfling," Glorfindel protested with a slight hiccup.

"No? Well you could have fooled me, my young elf," Yáravinyon said with a smile and Glorfindel found himself returning the smile with one of his own.

Yáravinyon released the younger ellon from his embrace. "When you are ready, I will have your robe waiting for you along with your dinner." Then he stepped out of the pool and, without bothering to dry himself off, walked out of the bathing chamber, leaving Glorfindel alone.

Glorfindel remained in the pool for some time reveling in the warmth of the water and the sense of serenity it evoked within him. Eventually, though, he did get out, hunger driving him. He returned to the sleeping chamber to find that the fur rugs had been returned along with his robe, which he donned gratefully, feeling somewhat shy now that his tantrum was over. Yáravinyon said nothing but handed him the tray with his dinner on it and with a soft ‘thank you’ Glorfindel sat down on the bed shelf and ate.

"I suspect the storm will be over by tomorrow night," the older elf said in the ensuing silence. "We can leave the next morning."

Glorfindel just nodded, now content to stay where he was. Yáravinyon smiled knowingly and when Glorfindel finished his meal, took the tray from him and wished him a good night. In minutes Glorfindel was fast asleep.

****

"If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this storm exists for the sole purpose of keeping me here with you," Glorfindel said sourly to Yáravinyon sometime during the following morning as he stared out of the cave entrance into a wall of white.

Yáravinyon only chuckled, watching the younger elf with amusement. "Rather full of yourself aren’t you?"

"What do you mean?" Glorfindel turned from the entrance to face the older elf. "I know this storm isn’t for my benefit, at least I hope it isn’t."

"Why?"

"Because it would mean that I’ve been manipulated all along," Glorfindel grimaced at the thought. "This prohibition against climbing Taniquetil, for instance. Everyone knew about it, including my enemies, it seems. I can only imagine that I was dumped on the Valar’s doorstep for the sole purpose of invoking their ire."

"If that was their intent, they have failed miserably, of that you may be assured," Yáravinyon said firmly.

"How can you be so sure of that, meldonya?" Glorfindel asked, looking perplexed. "I am sure of nothing anymore."

Yáravinyon came and placed his hands on the younger elf’s shoulders. "I am sure," he said quietly but with such authority that Glorfindel had no choice but to believe him.

"Who are you Yáravinyon?" Glorfindel finally asked, stepping back out of Yáravinyon’s hold. "Why do you haunt these caves?"

For a long moment the older elf merely stared at him and Glorfindel began to squirm under his regard. Then Yáravinyon smiled. "As to that, best beloved, I do not, as you say, haunt these caves."

Glorfindel gasped at the ellon’s words and started trembling, fear and awe warring within him as Yáravinyon slowly began to change. The dark hair lightened to a rich brown and the beard disappeared altogether. The rough robe turned into an ankle-length tunic of midnight blue velvet cinched at the waist by a belt of red-gold chain. A circlet of red-gold with a single large garnet graced his brow. Glorfindel found himself facing the Elder King of Arda.

Manwë reached him before he fell senseless to the floor.

****

Glorfindel woke to silence and thought he had somehow gone deaf, but then realized that he was no longer hearing the storm raging outside. He sat up, finding himself lying on his bed of furs. Manwë was sitting on a chair that had not been there before, gazing placidly at him. Glorfindel involuntarily shrank against the rock wall, unsure of what was happening.

Manwë raised a hand. "Peace, child, you are safe and all is well."

"I’m on the mountain," Glorfindel said flatly.

Manwë nodded. "Yes, you are, and I’ve enjoyed our time alone together... tantrums and all."

Glorfindel blushed at that and cast his eyes down in embarrassment. "So what now, lord?" he muttered without looking up.

Manwë stood up and gazed down at the ellon with great tenderness. "Now, you return to Vanyamar as I promised, but not until the morrow. Do I make myself clear?" This last was spoken with a ring of authority that caused Glorfindel to look up and nod with great sincerity.

"Yes, lord. I will not depart from here until you give me leave."

"That is well, my son. Rest now. In the morning your clothes will be returned to you and one of my people will escort you off the mountain. We will speak again soon." With that, Manwë bent down and took Glorfindel by the shoulders and gave him a kiss on the brow, then released him. Glorfindel found himself feeling inexplicably drowsy all of a sudden and was falling into a deep and dreamless sleep before Manwë disappeared, leaving the chair behind.

****

Morning came with brilliant blue skies and Anar rising merrily from the sea. Glorfindel woke to find himself feeling more refreshed than he had since his awakening in the garden of the Reborn. A tray of food sat next to his bed and across the chair were his clothes, freshly cleaned and neatly mended.

"Probably had Lady Vairë do the mending," the elf muttered, allowing himself a chuckle at the Elder King’s expense, then looked guiltily around in case he’d been overheard. When nothing untoward happened he rose from his bed and went in search of the privy and his bath before returning to don his clothes and break his fast. Only then did he make his way to the entrance to look out onto a field of white and sighed, wondering when he would be allowed to leave.

"You may leave at any time, youngling."

Glorfindel turned to see Olórin standing there smiling, his arms outstretched to receive the ellon, giving him a fierce hug.

"Oh, Olórin! Everything is so confusing. Lord Manwë pretending to be a... a... I’m not sure what he was supposed to be... and I was with him for all that time and never knew... and I’m on the mountain where I’m not supposed to be, but no one’s angry and I just don’t understand."

He was practically wailing at the last and Olórin simply laughed, hugging the ellon closer to him and giving him comfort.

"Now, tush, my elfling. It’s not as bad as all that. You should feel honored that Lord Manwë looked after you himself instead of having one of us do it. And you must not read too much into the prohibition against being on the mountain. That is for your own sake. You are not ready for what will be demanded of you when at last you are permitted to come before the Elder King on Taniquetil. Be patient, child. There is much for you to do here in Aman. Now, if you’re ready, let us leave this place and return to Vanyamar. Many are worried for you and will be glad to see you safe and sound."

Glorfindel nodded and without another word elf and Maia left the cave, walking easily upon the pristine snow. Glorfindel had no idea where they were in relation to Vanyamar but Olórin knew the way and the elf was content to follow his friend. An hour later saw them reaching the north gate of the city and the guards there gave glad cries to see the ellon returning safely. One of the guards ran towards the palace to give the news.

"This is where I leave you," Olórin said, giving Glorfindel a hug. "I have other duties and you are back where you belong."

"Thank you," Glorfindel said simply and then he was alone with the guards. Giving himself a shake he set off for the palace and before he was even halfway there Ingwë came running down the street to greet the younger elf, throwing his arms around Glorfindel.

"Yonya, you are alive," Ingwë said with great feeling.

"Last time I looked," Glorfindel replied with a cheeky grin. "I’m not that easy to get rid of, my lord. It’ll take another Balrog for that."

Ingwë laughed in relief. "Indeed. Come, let us return to the palace and you may tell me all about it."

"Where are Ingwion and the others, lord? Are they all right?"

Ingwë nodded as they made their way back up the wide avenue to the palace. "Yes, all are well. My daughter, Findis and the other ellith as well as Elessairon and Lómion have since returned from Valmar. Ingwion, I understand, is with Findaráto. Lord Oromë declared a Hunt and invited them to it."

"A Hunt?" Glorfindel asked with a confused look on his face. "What does that mean?"

"Ah, yes, of course. You might not remember from before as you were quite young when you left Aman. Lord Oromë will sometimes call a Hunt against the fell creatures left behind by Melkor. Few of the Eldar participate for it holds great danger for those who do. When you went missing Oromë declared a Hunt."

Glorfindel cast a wry glance at the High King. "Well, if so, lord, they failed miserably in finding me."

"Ah, but you weren’t the object of the Hunt, yonya. You were the bait."

Glorfindel stopped and stared at Ingwë in shock. "B-bait? I was the bait?"

Ingwë gave the ellon a solemn nod. "Yes. Come, I will explain it all to you when we are inside. I know it is confusing for you but I assure you that all is well now. Ingwion and Findaráto will return soon, I do not doubt, and they will tell you everything."

Glorfindel allowed the High King to lead him inside and soon they were alone in Ingwë’s study sipping on mulled wine as they sat before a cheery fire. Glorfindel told Ingwë everything that had happened in Valmar and afterwards when he found himself on the mountain. Ingwë did not interrupt but he looked upon the ellon with surprise and wonder, especially when Glorfindel described how Yáravinyon transformed into Lord Manwë.

"You are very fortunate in your friends, child," Ingwë said softly and he stared pensively into the flames of the fire crackling merrily in front of them.

"I was never so shocked in my life," Glorfindel commented with some feeling. "In fact, I actually fainted."

"I don’t wonder," Ingwë replied with a smile. "When my son returns with Findaráto, we will have a feast to celebrate. Meanwhile, why don’t you go look up Alassiel and the others. They are anxious to see you again."

"I’m surprised they were not here to greet me," Glorfindel said.

"My fault, actually," Ingwë admitted. "I thought you might be too overwhelmed if everyone greeted you at once and I wished to hear your story first."

"Thank you, lord," Glorfindel replied with a short bow as he stood up. "I appreciate your concern for my well-being. With your leave, I will seek out my friends and assure them I am well."

Ingwë nodded and Glorfindel left. For a long time afterward, the High King sat before the fire, deep in thought. Then he stood up and walked out into the garden, wandering aimlessly, still thinking. He came upon a particular fountain where he was unsurprised to see the object of his thoughts sitting calmly on its edge. He approached and fell to his knees before the Elder King, who looked upon him with a benign smile.

"Forgive me, Sire," Ingwë said quietly, tears in his eyes. "I’ve been very foolish in my anger towards you."

"My son, it is I who ask for your forgiveness," Manwë replied with great tenderness, placing a hand on Ingwë’s head in benediction. "Nai maruvar sérë ar nilmë imbë met tennoio." Then Manwë reached down and raised the elf to his feet, giving Ingwë the kiss of peace, which the High King returned.

The two of them sat by the fountain and spoke for a long time of many things.

****

Garnet: There are many myths and legends surrounding the garnet. One Biblical legend is that Noah hung this gem on the ark to light his way through the dark and stormy nights of God's wrath. The garnet continues to be the protective gem of journeyers.

Nai maruvar sérë ar nilmë imbë met tennoio: "May peace and friendship abide between us (dual) forever."

Note: Yáravinyon is the Quenya version of the Sindarin Iarwain, which, according to the most recent linguistic studies among Tolkien scholars means "ancient-new" [iar "ancient" + gwain (with zero lenition) "new"]. Think "ever ancient, ever new" and you get the sense of the name’s meaning. An appropriate title for the Elder King of Arda. I do not, however, claim that Tom Bombadil and Manwë are one and the same. I’m sure that the Elder King, in a fit of humor, "borrowed" the name for his own purposes. I am equally sure that when, some several millennia later, Glorfindel actually met Tom Bombadil, that venerable personage enjoyed the joke as much as the elf did.