73: Reunion

Glorfindel found his friends easily enough and they greeted him with much enthusiasm and relief. Alassiel, especially, was pleased to see him and gave him a kiss that was more passionate than propriety would normally allow, but no one minded, least of all Glorfindel. It took some time for everyone to tell their stories. The others grimaced when Glorfindel told them about the attack and Vorondil’s role in it.

"I find it hard to believe that he would be a party to something like this," Elessairon said, "but I can’t say I’m surprised. He has ever considered the Reborn as beneath the rest of us."

When Glorfindel told them about the Elder King they looked at him in awe.

"That Lord Manwë would humble himself so far..." Alassiel began, but Glorfindel shook his head.

"Nay, it was not an act of humility, at least not in the way you mean, but it was an act of love and I will be forever grateful."

Elessairon told him about the finding of his knife and how Ingwion confronted the Valar. "He practically accused Lord Manwë of kidnapping you," the younger elf said, growing pale at the memory. "I thought for sure Ingwion would be skewered on the spot. It was terrible to behold."

Glorfindel put his arms around the ellon’s shoulders in sympathy. "I’m sorry I’ve been the cause of so much grief for you all."

Elessairon gave a snort of disbelief. "Nonsense, meldonya. You’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and frankly, when all is said and done, so have we."

Everyone laughed at that.

****

Arafinwë’s party returned the following day and the inhabitants of the city were nonplused to see the King of the Noldor riding in without an escort, still dressed as if for battle, as were all but one of his companions. They rejoiced to see their prince riding alongside the Noldóran, and there were many who recognized Finrod and stared at him in wonder, for they knew he had died and was now Reborn. Some muttered darkly, reminded that their own Dead had yet to be released from Mandos. Laurendil and Sador were ignored, much to Laurendil’s amusement and Sador’s relief.

Ingwë and Glorfindel met them before the front gates of the palace. All five elves gathered around the Noldo, Arafinwë reaching him first and giving him a fierce hug. Ingwë merely smiled indulgently, standing to one side while even his son ignored him as Ingwion gave Glorfindel his own hug and the two kissed as brothers. Only when they were all assured that Glorfindel was indeed well did they turn to Ingwë to give him their greetings.

"Forgive us, Uncle, for not greeting you immediately," Arafinwë said with a short bow before accepting Ingwë’s embrace. "I’m afraid all we could think of on our way here was seeing Glorfindel again."

"Frankly, Nephew," Ingwë rejoined with a laugh, "I would have been disappointed in all of you had you done otherwise. I am glad you are all well. Welcome, Findaráto. I rejoice that you have been reunited once again with your atar. Now, why don’t you introduce me to your companions."

Finrod introduced Laurendil and Sador to the High King, who greeted them graciously and warmly. "Glorfindel has told me much about you, Sador," he said when the Sinda was made known to him. "And I see that there is more than one tale here," he added, eyeing Sador’s single braid. "Come. I have ordered a feast for tonight. In the meantime, you should all refresh yourselves and later we will trade stories."

Thus, an hour later the five who had been a part of the Hunt were bathed and dressed (all but Ingwion in borrowed clothes) and sitting comfortably in Ingwë’s study along with Glorfindel and his friends, taking turns telling each other their stories. At one point Ingwion reached into an inner pocket of his outer robe and pulled out Glorfindel’s ring.

"My ring!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "I thought I lost it on the mountain."

Ingwion shook his head with a grimace. "I found this on Vorondil. He was wearing it when we took him prisoner."

Glorfindel stared at Ingwion in shock for a moment, then slowly took the ring and put it on, feeling immeasurably better as soon as he did.

Ingwë shook his head in sorrow. "So we must add thievery to the list of crimes this ellon has committed."

"As well as blasphemy," Finrod added coldly. Everyone except Glorfindel, Laurendil and Sador, gave the Noldorin prince a puzzled look. Finrod shrugged. "Perhaps the Amaneldi will not see it as such but every elf on Tol Eressëa will say the same. When Vorondil dared to give himself warrior braids..." He found he couldn’t finish the thought for the anger it brought forth.

Laurendil offered an explanation when it was obvious Finrod could not continue. "Too many of us paid the ultimate price for these braids," he said as he fingered his own. Sador, everyone noticed, was doing the same with his single braid. "Too many of us still pay for them in ways none of the Amaneldi can imagine. That one such as Vorondil would dare dishonor the warriors who fought and died so he might know only peace and safety..." He shook his head. "Call it what you will; we call it blasphemy."

Glorfindel nodded, looking grim. "And he will pay for it, I promise you. I did not fight one of Morgoth’s balrogs just so he could feel self-important."

Ingwë looked troubled at their expressions and sighed. "I will postpone judgment until I have heard all parties in this matter. Even more disturbing than young Vorondil’s role is my brother’s in helping with your kidnapping, Glorfindel, for which I apologize."

Glorfindel nodded in acknowledgment of the High King’s apology but did not otherwise speak. Ingwë then turned to Ingwion, "But tell me, my son, where have you been? The Maiar came with the prisoners some days ago and I looked for your coming soon after, but you did not follow."

It was Arafinwë who answered. "Lord Oromë took us to Formenos, Uncle. There was a task that needed doing."

Ingwë looked at Arafinwë in surprise. "Formenos! You went to Formenos? But why?"

"I have decided it will be inhabited again for a time and Lord Oromë has approved my plan in the name of the other Valar."

Ingwë sat in silence for a time and none dared interrupt his musings. Finally, he sighed and, with a nod, said, "You will have to tell me your thoughts on this later, Nephew. I had hoped never to see that drear and haunted place inhabited again."

"So did I, Uncle," Arafinwë replied, sorrow etched on his fair face.

The uneasy silence that followed was broken when Glorfindel suddenly stood up and reached over and pulled hard on Sador’s braid, eliciting a surprised shriek from the Sinda. "New fashion trend indeed! I think it just looks ridiculous." He stuck his tongue out and then deftly moved out of Sador’s reach as the Sinda stood up and ran after him out into the garden.

The others all started laughing as they watched the two ellyn chasing each other with Glorfindel taunting Sador and Sador shouting imprecations in a mixture of Sindarin and Quenya. Finrod and Laurendil, especially, were laughing hysterically, with Finrod translating the Sindarin for the benefit of the others.

It was some time before they were able to get themselves under control and by then everyone’s mood had brightened and all thoughts of a darker nature had flown.

****

In spite of the fact that his clothes were borrowed, as was the circlet of gold upon his head, Arafinwë looked every inch the Noldóran when he joined the others for the feast.

"I packed very lightly for this trip," he quipped to Ingwë and the High King laughed.

Finrod, Laurendil and Sador were also suitably attired in borrowed finery and many remarked over the ellyn’s braids, for not everyone understood their significance and wondered why the firstborn son of the Noldóran would sport such a barbaric look in the High King’s presence.

Glorfindel found that the bags he had left behind in Valmar had been returned to him in his absence so he was able to don the formal robes that he had worn to his meeting with Manwë, including the chaplet of leaves that Ingwion and Indil had given him as their Begetting Day gift. When Arafinwë saw it his eyes widened in surprise.

"I wondered what had happened to it," he said. "I did not think to look for it here in Vanyamar. I simply assumed Amillë took it with her when she fled to Lórien after Atar’s death."

"She may have, but I cannot say for sure," Ingwë replied. "At any rate, my son and daughter gifted it to Glorfindel on his Begetting Day. I have no objections."

"Nor do I," Arafinwë said, casting a smile at Glorfindel.

The feast began on a joyous note but was marred by an unexpected intrusion when Vorondil’s parents arrived in Vanyamar, having been apprised of their son’s arrest by a messenger sent by Ingwë. Aldundil refused to wait until morning to request an audience with the High King and strode into the feasting hall, full of wrath. Vorondil’s mother, Calalindalë, followed behind her husband, clearly embarrassed and fearful.

"What have you done with my son, Ingwë?" Aldundil demanded. "Why have you imprisoned him who is still a child?"

"A child who plays a dangerous game, Aldundil," Arafinwë answered before Ingwë could speak, his voice cold and unbending. "And I suggest you show proper respect to the High King in his own hall."

Aldundil scowled, his features dark with fury. Calalindalë looked as if she would start weeping at any moment. "I want to see my son," Aldundil said.

Ingwë shook his head. "No, Aldundil. Not before the trial."

Calalindalë went absolutely white and Findis ran to her and led her away to compose herself, murmuring softly in the other elleth’s ear. Aldundil never noticed.

"Of what is he accused? Surely he is too young to have caused that much trouble?"

"This is neither the time nor the place..." Ingwë began but Aldundil interrupted him.

"Make it the time and the place, Ingwë," he shouted heedlessly in his anger. "This is my son you are talking about and I want to know what he has done."

Laurendil suddenly stood up. "Peace Aldundil. All will be explained at the proper time. Go to your wife and give her what comfort she will allow you to give."

Everyone stared at the Noldo with the strange braids and Aldundil started, for he had not paid attention to anyone but Ingwë. He recognized the voice, though it had been in another time and place when last he had heard it. He stared at the ellon who had addressed him and slowly recognition came.

"Glorendil?"

Laurendil nodded. "It is good to see you again, mellon nîn. I was not aware that Vorondil was your son. I am sorry that we must meet again under these circumstances."

"You know one another?" Finrod asked in surprise.

Laurendil smiled at his liege lord. "Yes, aranya. We met during the War of Wrath."

"Ah, I believe I was still in Mandos at the time trying to convince Glorfindel that calling Lord Námo a... a ninny wasn’t the smartest thing an ellon could do."

"You called the Lord of Mandos a ninny?" Sador asked, laughing.

Glorfindel shrugged. "I was mad and he wouldn’t let me climb the fountain."

Everyone looked at the golden-haired Balrog-slayer with varying degrees of wonder and surprise. Arafinwë rolled his eyes and Ingwion grinned. "No wonder Lord Námo kicked you out of Mandos when he did," the Vanyarin prince said. "He probably did it out of self-preservation."

Glorfindel smirked and many of the elves laughed. Aldundil, however, was not amused and glowered at them all, but addressed himself to Laurendil. "I was not aware that you had returned to Aman, Lord Glorendil."

"Yes, I returned only recently. I am now an apprentice to Lord Irmo and hope to someday be accepted among the Lóriennildi."

Aldundil looked at Laurendil in surprise. "A healer! You were ever the consummate warrior. I cannot imagine you giving up your sword."

"I gave up my sword the day I failed my king, Aldundil, though I continued to fight against Morgoth’s minions until the end."

Aldundil glanced at Finrod sitting at the high table, then back at Laurendil. "And did you foreswear that oath you told me about?"

"No," Laurendil said flatly. "Findaráto still has my life and always will."

Ingwë looked puzzled at Laurendil’s words. "Whatever does that mean? I’ve never heard such an expression."

Laurendil stared at Finrod. "Aranya?"

Finrod gave the barest of nods and then in a single motion that was swifter than most eyes could follow he was up and standing behind Laurendil with a knife at the ellon’s throat. Laurendil never flinched. Nearly everyone gasped and most of those at the high table stood up in shock. Even Aldundil paled at the sight.

"Findaráto! What is the meaning of this?" Ingwë demanded, shock and anger warring in his expression. He waved away the guards who had advanced on the high table with swords drawn. Laurendil stared placidly at the High King.

"It means, my lord, that Findaráto has my life and may do with it as he pleases."

Finrod glanced at Ingwë with a sad smile on his face. "You see, Uncle, in Endórë life was... different than here in Aman. A ritual developed among the rulers of Beleriand in which we accepted the lives of our subjects into our keeping and they in turn gave us their absolute trust."

"But... why?" Ingwë asked. "Such an oath is too dangerous..."

Finrod nodded. "Yes, much too dangerous. I only accepted the oath from a handful of my people and some I did not accept at all. Laurendil was one of the first to take the oath and has ever been faithful to me."

"No, aranya," Laurendil said sadly. "Not always."

Finrod took the knife away from Laurendil’s neck but did not release him from his embrace. Instead, he leaned over and planted a kiss on the ellon’s cheek. "Yes, my son, always," he said softly. Laurendil closed his eyes as he leaned into Finrod’s embrace. "Do you not understand? I knew you would not follow me to death. I knew you had another destiny. Do not regret your decision. I would have refused you had you asked to come."

Laurendil gave a stifled sob and Finrod brushed his hand over the ellon’s hair. "Hush now, best beloved. All is well. Remember, I have your life still in my keeping and that is all that matters between us."

Laurendil nodded and Finrod finally released him, returning to his seat as calmly as if nothing untoward had happened. Laurendil collapsed into his chair and wept quietly while Sador leaned over and put a comforting arm around the Noldo’s shoulders. Ingwë slowly retook his own seat and everyone else did the same. For a long moment, the only sound was Laurendil’s quiet sobs, then Ingwë glanced at Aldundil still standing defiantly before him and sighed.

"Tomorrow, Aldundil, I will let you see your son for a brief time. Go now, and see to your wife."

It was a dismissal that Aldundil did not dare ignore. With a stiff bow he turned and walked away. Laurendil suddenly stood up, no longer weeping. "Aldundil, what did you tell your son about the War?"

Aldundil stopped and turned to stare at Laurendil. "Little enough and much of it was severely curtailed in detail. Why?"

Laurendil nodded. "It is as I thought. I’m afraid Vorondil has romanticized your stories, wishing to be as great a warrior as you. What you say explains much about his behavior."

"And does that knowledge help mitigate his actions?" Aldundil asked hopefully.

Laurendil shook his head. "No, mellon nîn. It only makes it worse for your son. I’m sorry."

Aldundil stared at Laurendil for a moment before shifting his attention to Ingwë. "When is the trial?"

"In two days’ time."

Aldundil nodded, gave the High King another stiff bow and left. No one was in the mood to continue the festivities after that.