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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

75: A Surprising Turn of Events

Ingwion was the next witness called. As with Glorfindel, his statement was read aloud before questions were put to him. Surprisingly, it was Námo who asked the first question, stepping forward from beside the dais where he had been standing. The question, to many, did not seem to have any relevance to the trial, but no one was foolish enough to point that out to the Ordainer of Fates.

"I’m curious to know, Ingwion," Lord Námo said mildly, "what you meant by accusing us of being responsible for Glorfindel’s disappearance."

Ingwion paled slightly at that and cast a quick glance at his atar, who merely raised an eyebrow in response. Ingwion bowed to the Vala. "I am sorry, my lord, I am afraid I allowed my emotions to overcome my reason. After all that has happened lately..."

"Do you understand now why Lord Manwë initially refused to see you?" Námo asked, his tone still mild.

Ingwion nodded, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Why did he change his mind?"

Námo raised an eyebrow and smiled thinly. "Well, as Varda told Glorfindel, my brother is rather fond of elflings."

Ingwion blushed at that and looked down at his feet.

"Also," Námo continued, "Oromë declared a Hunt just then and told us you would be called to participate along with Findaráto, Laurendil, Sador and the Noldóran."

Arafinwë started at that, for he had assumed his decision to accompany Sador and Laurendil to Valmar had to do with his desire to speak to Ingwë. Námo gave the king a knowing glance. "Incidentally, that is why Sador’s ... escape from his captors was... er... facilitated by one of my brother Oromë’s people. We needed Sador’s presence in Valmar."

Sador paled at the Vala’s words and Laurendil had to put a steadying hand on his back.

"That is what I don’t understand," Lindórië said. "Why the Hunt when Lord Glorfindel went missing but not when Lord... S-sador was kidnapped?" She stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar name.

Námo’s expression darkened. "For that you will have to ask my brother Vala. I do not dictate when or if a Hunt is called."

Valandur gave the Vala a wry smile. "Do we dare hope that Lord Oromë will make an appearance before this court?"

Ingwion quickly stepped to one side, looking alarmed. Glorfindel snickered and many smiled, including the two kings. Námo laughed outright and that laughter was echoed by another’s. Oromë appeared quietly before the thrones, giving Ingwion a grin.

"Come here, my princeling," Oromë said with a gesture and Ingwion complied, standing before the Lord of Forests. Oromë put a hand on the ellon’s shoulder and gazed intently into Ingwion’s eyes. Ingwion paled somewhat but did not look away and some wondered if he was even able to.

"Accusing the Elder King of complicity in Glorfindel’s kidnapping was both brave and foolish," Oromë said softly, almost conversationally. "I almost called off the Hunt, for I was unsure you were ready for it. I am glad I was proved wrong. I think, however, you might benefit from spending a few months with Lord Námo’s sister. She’s rather used to dealing with recalcitrant elflings." Here Oromë gave Arafinwë a brief glance and a smile. Arafinwë chuckled.

Ingwion swayed slightly and grew even paler. Námo took a few steps and stood behind the ellon, supporting him. "Nienna is already expecting you, my son," Námo said gently. "When this trial is over, my people will escort you to her house there by the Ekkaia." He bent down and kissed the top of the Vanya’s head, then released him. Oromë nodded once and bent down and whispered in the ellon’s ear but what he said, none heard. Ingwion, for his part, nodded once, still looking white, and then stumbled to where his friends were standing. Glorfindel caught him and gathered him into his arms.

Oromë, meanwhile, addressed the court. "The Hunt was not called on Sador’s account because as grievous as the assault was, those responsible did not invoke the ire of the Valar."

Sador looked nonplused at that and Oromë turned and gave him a warm smile. "Do not fret, my child. We take a dim view of what happened but leave it to the Noldóran to sort it all out." Then his expression darkened to something that made many who saw it quail. "On the other hand, those responsible for Glorfindel’s kidnapping intentionally flung the Sérë Valaron in our faces when they... dumped Glorfindel on Lord Manwë’s front doorstep, so to speak. It was a deliberate insult and we were not about to ignore it. Thus, I called the Hunt."

"Why us?" Arafinwë asked.

Oromë gave the King of the Noldor a smile. "You, Pityahuan, and Findaráto because Glorfindel is a member of your family. Laurendil, because he will not willingly leave Findaráto’s side for all that he has foresworn the taking of arms. Ingwion for his insolence." Ingwion blushed at that and his atar gave him a sympathetic smile. "And Sador..." Oromë paused and gave the young Sinda a warm smile. "Well, let’s just say I had my reasons for including him." Sador blanched at that and Finrod put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"And so you called a Hunt," Ingwë said, "and the result was these." He looked pointedly at the prisoners, especially Ingoldo. "Does anyone have any more questions for my son?"

"There is the question of the ring, sire," Valandur said. "Where was the ring found and under what circumstances?"

Glorfindel stepped forth then and explained how the ring had been given to him by the Valar as a Begetting Day gift. Ingwion then related how he had found the ring on Vorondil’s finger when he entered the hunting lodge.

"You recognized the ring right away," Valandur said. It was not a question, though Ingwion took it as such, for he nodded.

"Yes. I was there when Lord Manwë gifted it to Glorfindel. It is a rather unique ring made by Lord Aulë at Lord Manwë’s behest for Glorfindel alone, or so I was told."

Valandur looked at the two Valar standing near him for confirmation and both nodded but otherwise did not comment.

"How did Vorondil’s hair get so ragged looking?" Valandur then asked.

Before Ingwion could answer, Finrod stepped forward with a bow. "I’m the one best able to answer that question, Uncle."

"Speak then, Findaráto," Ingwë said with a nod.

Finrod took a deep breath and kept his eyes on Oromë. "When Ingwion and I entered the hunting lodge, I noticed immediately that Vorondil was sporting warrior braids that he had not earned. His blasphemy was more than I could endure so I cut them off and threw them into the fire."

"Blasphemy?" Lindórië asked. "In what way could anyone commit blasphemy by wearing what to me are rather ridiculous looking front braids?"

Before anyone could respond, there was a stir among the crowd and Aldundil stepped forward, white-faced and in shock, as he stared first at his son, who sat there in mute misery though no longer gagged, and then at Finrod.

"Is it true?" he asked in a strangled whisper. "Did my son actually...." but he could not continue and when both Finrod and Laurendil nodded, he started to sway, then caught himself with a stifled sob and in two strides reached one of the armed guards standing near the prisoners and, expertly grabbing the unsuspecting guard so he would not be able to resist, pulled the ellon’s sword out of its sheath and then advanced on Finrod. There was instant pandemonium that was stilled only when Námo stepped forth and with a single gesture plunged the room into near darkness, save for a single shining crystal globe that cast an eerie glow upon the scene.

"Á PUSTA!" the Vala shouted and all movement ceased except for Aldundil who never stopped, oblivious to all but Finrod. Slowly the lights returned.

All watched as the elf advanced upon the Noldorin prince, who never moved, though Laurendil and Glorfindel quietly flanked him, with Sador on the other side of Laurendil and Ingwion on the other side of Glorfindel. Finrod kept his eyes on Aldundil who went to his knees before his prince and presented the sword to him.

"A-aran veleg lîn," he whispered, speaking in Sindarin to everyone’s amazement, "thou hast my life, in trade for the life of my son, for he has sinned against thee."

Laurendil’s eyes widened and Sador gasped. Glorfindel’s expression became instantly unreadable. Arafinwë rose in shock and consternation, understanding enough to know what Aldundil had just done. There were shocked murmurs all around, for some of the Vanyar understood what the Noldo had said, having learned something of Sindarin during their sojourn in Beleriand while fighting in the War of Wrath. They quietly translated Aldundil’s words for those who did not know the language. Ingwë demanded a translation which Arafinwë gave in a whisper and the High King stared at the still kneeling Noldo in wonder.

Finrod never moved and he never took his eyes off of Aldundil. When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper but everyone could hear his words. "Your son’s offense was not against me, Aldundil, but against Glorfindel. It is before him you should kneel."

"No, Finrod," Glorfindel replied flatly, "you are the highest ranking warrior among us. To you belongs the right of execution."

Murmurs all around at the elf’s words threatened to explode into shouts of denial but one look at the faces of the two Valar convinced everyone to remain silent. Vorondil looked ready to faint again.

Finrod glanced at Glorfindel and Laurendil, and both nodded. Then he looked again at Aldundil. "Your son is still an elfling, else I might well have demanded his death. Yet, if I send you to Mandos in his place, what good will that do?" He looked up at Námo who merely stood there, placidly waiting for whatever would come. The Vala would not interfere with Finrod’s decision.

Ingwë had no such compunction. Standing, he addressed his great-nephew coldly. "I will not permit you to execute anyone, Findaráto. I do not recognize your authority to do so."

Finrod looked at his uncle for a brief moment and then back down at Aldundil. Suddenly, and more quickly than even elvish eyes could follow, the sword was in his hand and the cold blade was lying against Aldundil’s neck. The Noldo never flinched, though he closed his eyes in anticipation of his death.

Arafinwë put a hand on Ingwë’s arm to still the High King’s protest, shaking his head. Ingwë stared at his nephew in surprise but finally acquiesced and remained silent. Finrod was no longer looking at Aldundil but at Vorondil.

"Do you understand, child, what is at stake here?" he asked quietly, yet all looking upon him shivered at his implacable expression and the fell light that seemed to surround him. "Do you comprehend the gravity of what you have done and what the price of your folly might be? Your atar kneels before me in your place, willing to give up his life for yours. He is a true warrior, where you but merely play-act as any elfling would."

Then he handed the sword to Glorfindel who took it, holding it by the hilt with the point planted on the floor. Finrod, meanwhile, knelt before Aldundil and placed his hands on either side of the ellon’s face. Aldundil opened his eyes in confusion when he sensed the pressure of the blade no longer on his neck and felt something like fear course through him as he tried to move out of Finrod’s hold. Finrod shook his head.

"No, my son, do not resist." Then Finrod leaned forward and their foreheads met. Aldundil stiffened suddenly and then collapsed into Finrod’s embrace with a sob. Laurendil, meanwhile whispered into Sador’s ear, who nodded and stepped away to speak softly to one of the younger pages of the court. The elleth ran off, her eyes wide with fear and wonder. Then the Sinda walked over to one of the guards standing nearby and removed the ellon’s knife from its sheath without a word before returning to stand beside Laurendil. The guard made to stop the Sinda but a look from Oromë quelled him.

There was no sound, save for Aldundil’s quiet sobs which became soft moans as the intimacy of the contact between him and Finrod deepened. Finally, Finrod moved and without a word Laurendil helped him to his feet, while Sador gave Aldundil a hand. The Noldo’s expression was blank and unseeing and he swayed slightly in Sador’s hold. The page returned just then with several strips of cloth. Finrod reached for the knife in Sador’s hold. He grabbed Aldundil’s hand and sliced the palm before doing the same to himself. Then he grasped the other’s bleeding hand, handing the knife to Laurendil, who calmly wiped the blade with one of the cloths that the page was holding. Meanwhile, Sador quietly spoke into Aldundil’s ears the words of the oath and Aldundil repeated them in a toneless manner, still in shock.

"By our blood mingled, our minds now one, I give thee my oath, aranya, that thou mayest have my life into thy keeping, tenn’ Ambar-metta. Valar valuvar."

Finrod spoke then and his words were implacable and irrevocable.

"By our blood mingled, our minds now one, I accept your oath, Aldundil, and take your life into my keeping, tenn’ Ambar-metta. Valar valuvar."

Then he released his hold on Aldundil and took one of the strips of linen, tying it around the elf’s hand before wrapping the last strip around his own. Aldundil simply stood there, never taking his eyes off Finrod. The former King of Nargothrond then took Aldundil fully into his embrace and kissed him on the forehead. "Your life is now in my keeping and I do not choose to take it from you."

He looked over Aldundil’s shoulder. "Come here, Vorondil," and the strength of his command was such that Vorondil involuntarily rose, though he was still bound to the chair. Ingwë nodded to the guard and the ropes were cut. Vorondil stumbled towards Finrod and his atar, his features white with fear. Finrod looked at him with dispassion as Laurendil came around and forced the ellon to his knees.

"I know you do not understand what has happened here, child," he said softly. "But I promise you that some day you will. Your atar has traded his life for yours and it is now in my keeping. You may both regret it before very long, but it cannot be helped. Know this, child. You are mine because your atar is mine and when I return to Lórien to complete my apprenticeship with Lord Irmo, you and your atar will accompany me."

Ingwë spoke up then, looking less than amused. "He has not even been tried yet, Findaráto. Don’t you think we should at least try him before passing sentence?"

Finrod shook his head. "No, Uncle. In this you have no say. Vorondil is mine. I claim him and will not be denied."

Ingwë started to protest when Námo stepped forward. "Nay, Ingwë," the Vala said solemnly. "Manwë decrees it so. Therefore this doom is now made: Vorondil will go with Findaráto as his bondsman and perform such service as Findaráto demands."

"For how long?" Ingwë asked.

Finrod shrugged and looked at Námo. "How many blows did Glorfindel receive?"

Oromë was the one who spoke. "My brother Tulkas says that between the two ellyn, thirty blows were administered, more than half after Glorfindel had already lapsed into unconsciousness."

All gasped at the viciousness of the attack and none disputed Oromë’s accounting. Finrod stole a glance at Glorfindel who stood stock still, his face etched with remembered pain, and nodded. "Then for thirty years you shall remain in Lórien, Vorondil, as a servant to the Reborn you so despise. Perhaps during your indenture you will learn something to your benefit."

Námo nodded. "For thirty years, then. In that time take counsel with thyself, child of Aldundil and Calalindalë, and remember who and what thou art. But after that time this matter shall be set in peace and held redressed, if Findaráto will release thee."

"As to that, we will see." Finrod replied with a nod. "Remember, child, I have your atar’s life in my keeping, to do with as I will." Vorondil’s eyes widened and Finrod smiled, though it was not a pleasant smile to see. "You think you fear me, child, but I promise you that before we are through with each other I will teach you the true meaning of the word."

He let his words sink in for a moment. Vorondil was now sobbing and Aldundil looked ready to collapse. Calalindalë had in the meantime come to stand by her husband and son, looking confused and bereft. Finrod took pity on her and spoke softly a few words of comfort to her before turning the the High King.

"I think, Uncle, these three are not necessary for the rest of this trial. Perhaps they may retire to their apartments for the nonce."

Ingwë nodded. "Let it be so." Within a short time Aldundil was leaving the throne room with his wife and son, his expression still blank with shock. At Finrod’s suggestion, Laurendil went with them.

Ingwë gave Arafinwë a glance, then shook his head. "I think we need another recess." He stood up and strode out of the room. "Findaráto, with me," he ordered without looking at his great-nephew. Finrod gave his friends a wry look before following the High King out, walking side-by-side with Arafinwë.

Those left behind noticed that the two Valar exchanged satisfied grins, and shuddered.

****

Aran veleg lîn: (Sindarin) Your Majesty, based on the Quenya construction with the same literal meaning of "king your mighty". For the curious, Aldundil’s words to Finrod in Sindarin were: Geril guil nîn, am mbangad cuil nîn ’nin guil en-ion nîn, dan agor úgarth dallen: literally, "Thou hast my life, for the purpose of trading my life for the life of my son, for he did wrongdoing against thee".

Note: Some of the wording of Námo’s doom against Vorondil is borrowed from the doom uttered against Fëanor when he was sent from Tirion into exile. See The Silmarillion, "Of the Silmarils".





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