99: End-game

When Glorfindel returned to the jewel-smith’s, he found both his Master and Mistress waiting for him as he came inside. He stood somewhat hesitantly, wondering what kind of reception he was in for.

"Are you all right, Glorfindel?" Míriel asked worriedly.

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, Mistress. I am well. Forgive me, Master, for running out like that."

"What happened to you?" Martandur asked, pointing to the torn tunic and the bruise and cut lip. "Surely you did not get into a fight?"

"Actually, Master, I did," Glorfindel said with a smile. "I went to the archery salle and there met the Lady Vairë who then had Manveru and Erunáro... er... play with me. We were wrestling."

"Ah, yes, that would explain it," the jewel-smith said dryly. "So you went to the training salle."

"Yes, Master," Glorfindel said with a nod. "I decided to take your advice and begin training for the upcoming tournament. That is, if you still..."

Martandur raised a hand. "I think it’s an excellent idea. Perhaps that young ellon who was here earlier can come by tomorrow and we can work out a schedule. You are still technically my thrall so we should keep up the appearance of it to some extent."

Míriel stepped in then. "Why don’t you go clean up, dear. Give me the tunic and I will repair it for you. I also have some salve that you can put on that bruise and your lip. They must hurt."

"A little," Glorfindel conceded with a smile, "though I’ve received worse in my time."

Martandur nodded. "Yes, go and clean up. It’s almost time for dinner."

"Yes, Master," Glorfindel said with a bow and he went to find a clean tunic.

****

Glorfindel sent word for Aldarion to meet him at Martandur’s workshop the next day and the ellon was quick to comply with the request. The two sat together with Martandur and hashed out a schedule that would allow Glorfindel to join in some of the practice sessions for both sword and bow, but still leave time for his other duties.

"I’m afraid I have no choice but to punish you for yesterday," Martandur said at one point.

Glorfindel nodded. "I know, Master."

Aldarion eyed the two and grimaced. "This shouldn’t be happening in the first place. Ingwë had no right..."

"He had every right, meldonya," Glorfindel said serenely. "What’s done is done. Let us not speak of it again." He turned his attention to Martandur. "Have you decided what my punishment should be, Master?"

The jewel-smith nodded. "You went missing for four hours yesterday and neither I nor my wife knew what had happened to you, so for the next four days you will not only perform your usual duties but you will help Míriel with carding wool." He gave the ellon a wry look. "I understand she’s got quite a supply of wool ready to be carded."

Glorfindel grimaced but did not offer any protest. "Yes, Master."

Aldarion just stared at him in horror. "Why do you just take it so meekly? You’re a warrior, but you practically slink around like a whipped hound."

Glorfindel’s eyes blazed. "There’s a difference between subservience and obedience, Aldarion. I am obedient to both Ingwë’s will in this, and to the will of my Master and Mistress. I fully expected to be punished for what I did yesterday and do not shirk the responsibility for my actions. If my Master wishes to punish me that is his right."

"But..."

"Peace, Aldarion." Glorfindel raised his hand to still the ellon’s protest. "If I can accept it, you should do no less."

"You actually enjoy this?" Aldarion asked disbelievingly, looking between Glorfindel and Martandur. The jewel-smith raised an eyebrow but did not otherwise contribute to the conversation.

Glorfindel smiled thinly. "I said nothing about enjoying anything, child. I said I accept the situation. There’s a difference." Then he stood up and grabbed a besom from the corner. "Now, why don’t you tell me all the news from the palace while I sweep the floor."

Aldarion hesitated, not really willing to let the topic go, but Glorfindel asked again for news as he began sweeping, and he reluctantly complied. Soon though he forgot his reticence and was happily regaling the other two ellyn with the latest palace gossip, even as he found himself holding the dustpan for Glorfindel.

Martandur nodded to himself as he sat watching the two friends, pleased that things were finally going well for his thrall.

****

For the next couple of weeks life around Glorfindel seemed to settle into a routine. Most days he performed such duties as either Martandur or Míriel required of him. Twice a week, for two hours in the afternoon, he was at the training salles, alternating between practicing with the sword and practicing with the bow. Martandur insisted that Aldarion always come to the shop and escort Glorfindel to and from the salles.

"This way it can be seen that Glorfindel is not wandering freely through the city, since everyone knows that he’s my thrall," Martandur explained.

Aldarion sighed, shaking his head, but Glorfindel merely nodded and accepted the situation with equanimity. Ingwë studiously avoided the salles when he knew Glorfindel would be there, though he asked Valandur to go every now and then to see how the ellon was faring. The loremaster would slip into the salle before Glorfindel arrived and sit alone in a dark corner of the gallery, unseen but seeing everything. By the High King’s command, no visitors were permitted during those times when Glorfindel was there.

"He doesn’t need people staring at him out of morbid curiosity," he told Valandur. "Find out his schedule from Aldarion and see to it that only those actually there for practice are allowed in."

So, Valandur would have the gallery to himself, which suited him just fine. He would sit there and watch, taking note of Glorfindel’s mien and attitude. The ellon was more subdued than he had been before, less likely to joke or laugh, but he did not seem unduly dispirited nor did he seem to exhibit the level of anger that Ingwë had described witnessing.

One day he was surprised to see Martandur standing before the salle door speaking to the guard who was there because Glorfindel would be there.

"Master Martandur," the loremaster said, "I am Lord Valandur. Is something amiss?"

The master jeweler gave Valandur a bow. "No, my lord. I decided to come and watch Glorfindel practice today, but the guard won’t let me in."

"Ah, yes, well he’s only following orders." Valandur said, motioning for the guard to step aside. "Come, you may sit with me."

"Does Glorfindel know you are here, lord?" Martandur asked as they entered the salle and made their way to the gallery.

"No, and he is not to know," Valandur said shortly. Martandur gave the loremaster an appraising look then nodded. "Does your thrall know you are here?" Valandur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, my lord," Martandur said with a chuckle, "and he is not to know."

Valandur snorted at that and then gave the smith a rueful smile as they found their seats. A few minutes later Glorfindel and his friends entered the salle from the changing room and began warming up for their training session. Today was sword-fighting and Martandur watched with interest as Glorfindel took turns sparring with the other ellyn and ellith. He felt his mouth drop open when Glorfindel attacked his partner with such controlled intensity yet never in anger. He nodded approvingly when Glorfindel would take the time to explain a move or to correct his partner’s technique. The others all watched and listened respectfully, recognizing Glorfindel’s superior skill and knowledge in this.

When the session was over, Martandur waited at the entrance of the gardens for Glorfindel to appear. Valandur had continued on into the palace proper in search of Ingwë. When Glorfindel came to the gate, he was thus surprised to see the smith. Aldarion and some of the other ellyn and ellith were with him.

"Master! What are you doing here?" Glorfindel exclaimed.

Martandur smiled. "I thought I would save Aldarion the trip and escort you myself. I need to see my cousin, who is also a jewel-smith. She has some gemstones for me that I need for a piece I’m working on and I thought you would like to meet her as she’s the one who made that pendant you were wearing at court when Ingwë made you my thrall."

"Truly?" Glorfindel’s eyes lit up with interest.

Martandur nodded, noting the looks that the others gave each other, and pulled out a couple of coppers, handing them to Glorfindel. "Here. I know you’re always hungry after one of these training sessions. Why don’t you run over to that bakery that’s across the square from the Bowman’s Rest," — naming a popular tavern near the palace — "and buy some sticky buns. You can get me one as well. I’ll meet you at the corner where Lómelindë Mallë comes into the square."

Glorfindel gave the smith a bow as he took the money. "Thank you, Master," he said, gave his friends a cheery wave and left.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" one of the ellon accused Martandur once Glorfindel was out of sight and hearing.

"Peace, meldonya," Aldarion said before Martandur could respond. "No one said anything about enjoying anything. Master Martandur is merely treating Glorfindel as he would any apprentice. When you come right down to it, apprentices are little better than thralls anyway, except they get paid for their services and Glorfindel isn’t."

Martandur hid a smile at Aldarion’s defending him and merely nodded. "My wife and I have endeavored to make Glorfindel’s indenture as painless as possible. I’ve even been teaching him something of my craft as he has some experience in jewel-smithing. Now, if you young lords and ladies will excuse me, I had best find Glorfindel before he devours all the sticky buns."

The younger elves all snickered at that. "I will come by in two day’s time to escort Glorfindel to archery practice," Aldarion said with a bow and Martandur nodded.

When the jewel-smith met up with Glorfindel it was to find the ellon staring wistfully at the last sticky bun in the bag. Martandur smiled knowingly and gave him another copper, much to the ellon’s delight, and Glorfindel ran back into the bakery for more sticky buns before they continued on their way. Martandur’s cousin was an elleth named Sorondilmë. She greeted Martandur warmly and Glorfindel with interest.

"So you’re the ellon for whom the High King ordered that rather unusual pendant made," she said, giving Glorfindel an appraising look. "Did you like the gift?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Thank you, yes, though I only had a chance to wear it that one time." He shrugged somewhat ruefully.

"Perhaps you’ll wear it at the New Year," Martandur said encouragingly.

"Perhaps," Glorfindel replied but his tone was noncommital and Martandur wondered if the ellon was still feeling resentful over what had happened.

Sorondilmë then motioned them over to a worktable. "Here are the gems, Cousin. Hopefully, one of them will suit your purposes."

For the next hour Martandur and Sorondilmë discussed business while Glorfindel wandered idly about, admiring the shop, and occasionally contributing to the conversation. Eventually, however, business was concluded and Martandur and Glorfindel made their farewells. They were coming onto the street where Martandur’s house and workshop were located when Glorfindel suddenly stopped and looked warily around.

"Martandur," he said barely above a whisper but with much authority, "keep walking and don’t stop until you reach the house."

The jewel-smith was just surprised enough at Glorfindel’s tone that he obeyed without thinking and it was several minutes before he realized Glorfindel wasn’t with him. He turned around in time to see three cloaked and hooded figures fall upon Glorfindel, forcing him to the pavement. Martandur yelled and started to run back to help when someone grabbed him from behind and he found himself being held in Erunáro’s arms. The Maia whispered in his ear, "Do not interfere, child."

Martandur watched in fascinated horror as Glorfindel grappled with one of the figures while the other two attempted to hold him down. Glorfindel threw off the one attacker and managed to regain his feet just as the other two came after him. Martandur saw Glorfindel smile and it was both feral and arrogant and the smith felt a frisson of fear bordering on awe as he remembered that this was an elf who had fought and defeated a valarauco. Even unarmed, Glorfindel was extremely dangerous, perhaps even more so.

"Why do you not go to his aid?" he whispered to the Maia who still held him in his grip. "Three against one... why do you not help him?"

"My sword-brother is quite capable of protecting himself, child, never fear," Erunáro whispered back, "and who says we’re not helping?"

The last was spoken in a rather wry tone, and Martandur wondered at that. Before he could enquire further, though, he began to have a dim idea what the Maia meant. The third attacker whom Glorfindel had thrown off started to enter the fray again but Martandur watched in amazement as the ellon suddenly tripped over nothing and landed on his face, eliciting a yell of pain from the hapless elf. When the ellon attempted to rise, it was almost as if something or someone pushed him back down, but in such a way that the ellon crashed into one of his fellows so that they both went down, leaving only one attacker still facing Glorfindel. That ellon spared a surprised look at the two elves tangled up in each other’s arms, cursing one another as they tried to extricate themselves, before turning his attention back to the third attacker, who suddenly pulled out a rather long and wicked looking knife with a white-bone handle.

It was only upon seeing that knife that Martandur’s brain finally registered the fact that two of the ellyn were not Vanyar, but Noldor. That confused him because he was sure that the attack was related to Lord Ingoldo’s downfall. Why were Noldor attacking one of their own?

"Ingoldo has many sympathizers," Erunáro said, apparently picking up Martandur’s thought, "even among the Noldor who also resent the Rebels who have been reborn before those who remained faithful to the Valar."

All this time the attack had occurred in virtual silence. Now Glorfindel spoke. "Come now," he said sneeringly, pointing to the knife in the other elf’s hand. "You can do better than that."

The other two ellyn, meanwhile, finally extricated themselves from their tangle and each pulled out their own knives. One of them then launched himself at Glorfindel’s back. Martandur nearly screamed and struggled against Erunáro’s grip. Glorfindel never took his eyes off the ellon facing him. As the one elf launched himself at Glorfindel, the Balrog-slayer stepped back with his left foot, twisting his back slightly, grabbing the attacker by the arm and throwing him over his shoulder, right into the other ellon facing him. Someone screamed and Martandur watched in horror as the elf whom Glorfindel had thrown was inadvertently stabbed by his fellow.

Blood suddenly appeared and that completely unnerved the two remaining attackers as their fellow slumped either unconscious or dead upon the pavement. His partners stared in stunned horror at the fallen ellon for a moment before turning to run, but it was as if they both slammed into a wall, for they stumbled over nothing that Martandur could see and fell senseless to the ground.

By now the street was beginning to fill with people and Martandur suddenly realized that all this time there had been no other witnesses to the fight and wondered at that. He also realized that he was no longer being held, that, in fact, Erunáro was no longer there, or at least not visibly so. He ran to Glorfindel.

"Are you all right?" he called out and Glorfindel gave him a shrug.

"Well enough, Master, but my attackers seem a little worse for wear. Either they are the most hapless elves in history or I had some help." He paused and looked up, staring into thin air. "Not that I actually needed it, mind you," he said speaking somewhat loudly, "I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much."

"You’re welcome, sword-brother," came the disembodied voice that Martandur recognized as Manveru’s and Glorfindel gave a snort of amusement. Then he went over to the ellon who had been stabbed, kneeling to check his pulse, and grimaced when he saw that the elf was dead.

"That wasn’t supposed to happen," he muttered in disgust as he removed his cloak and covered the dead elf’s face.

"Many things are not suppose to happen, but they do."

Martandur looked around and felt the blood drain from his face. He dimly noticed that everyone else there was looking equally pale, everyone but Glorfindel, that is. Standing there in charonic splendour was the Lord of Mandos. He wore a black surcoat over a dark grey robe. The surcoat was embroidered with Námo’s emblem of the Sun-in-eclipse. A black velvet mantle covered his shoulders, sweeping to the ground. His blue-black hair was braided as usual and crowned with a wreath of morihelinyetilli and nieninqui entwined.

Námo stared about dispassionately. Only Glorfindel seemed unaffected by the Vala’s presence, giving him a brief wintry smile. "It took them long enough," the ellon said.

Martandur gave Glorfindel a strange look. "You were expecting this?"

"Not specifically," Glorfindel responded with a shake of his head, "but yes, we figured there would be an attempt on my life if certain people thought I was out of favor with the High King."

"Then... your being my thrall was just a... a ruse?" the smith asked in confusion, not really sure what was going on. The others congregating on the street listened with unabashed interest to their conversation, all the while, studiously not looking at Lord Námo standing so near.

"No, that part was real enough, though I only figured out the rest after Lady Vairë came to the shop. This will not change anything." Glorfindel gave Martandur a wry smile, shaking his head ruefully as he pointed to the dead elf and his companions who were only just then regaining consciousness. "I am still your thrall and you are still my Master, at least until the New Year."

"But why would Ingwë not tell you... or me, for that matter?" Martandur asked.

"Because I needed everyone’s honest reaction to my decree."

All the elves, including Glorfindel, bowed low when they saw the High King approach with Valandur by his side and a contingent of guards at his back. Word had been sent to the palace when the attack had occurred and Ingwë came as soon as possible. He gave the jewel-smith a smile.

"Glorfindel is correct. This changes nothing. My decree still stands, but it does not mean that he, or you and your wife, are not under my protection." He turned to Glorfindel, his smile wistful. "I apologize, child, for what I’ve put you through these last weeks. Arafinwë, Findaráto and I spoke of how we might flush these malcontents out using you as bait once again and when you stole Master Martandur’s horse I saw it as the perfect opportunity. I hope you can forgive me."

Glorfindel suddenly knelt before the High King, taking his right hand and kissing the signet ring that graced it. "My oath I have given to another, but thou hast my forgiveness and my love, Sire, if... if I have thy forgiveness as well."

Ingwë raised Glorfindel up and gave him the kiss of peace. "You have always had that, child, and my love. Nai maruvar sérë ar nilmë imbë met tennoio." He gave the ellon another kiss and then released him, turning to the guards and pointing to the two would-be assassins. "Remove them," he said coldly but Námo stepped forward with a shake of his head.

"Nay, Ingwë. These I claim for myself. You may have them back after I’m finished with them." The Lord of Mandos stared implacably at the now trembling ellyn and then two Maiar wearing black surcoats and looking grim appeared. Ingwë started to protest but thought better of it when he saw the Vala’s expression. Even Glorfindel went pale.

"I promise you, my children," the Lord of Mandos said in sepulchral tones as he addressed the two now in the custody of the Maiar, "before the end you will come to envy your companion who even now enjoys the hospitality of my Halls." Námo nodded to his servants. "Take them to the Elder King."

One of the ellyn tried to escape but was quickly caught and was simply carried away, screaming. The other ellon merely fainted. No one else moved and several looked as if they might faint as well. Ingwë swallowed nervously.

"There... there will be others..."

Námo shook his head. "We know who they are now, Ingwë. Lord Manwë will see that you are given the information you will need to effect a round-up of these malcontents. What you do with them is your affair, but those two are ours."

Ingwë nodded reluctantly. "Valar valuvar," he said faintly and Námo smiled gently.

"Yes, child, exactly." With that he gave Glorfindel a wink, then faded from view.

Ingwë ordered the body removed, dismissing the guards. Indicating that Valandur should remain with him, he turned to Martandur, who had kept silent all this time. "Perhaps we can retire to your home, Master Martandur, and I will explain everything."

Martandur nodded, looking a bit stunned. He turned to Glorfindel. "You had best run ahead and warn Míriel," he said in a strangled voice. "You know how much she hates surprises."

Glorfindel smiled and gave the smith a bow. "Yes, Master, at once." He ran towards the house while Ingwë and Valandur watched him go, smiling with amusement as Martandur gestured for them to follow.

****

Morihelinyetilli: Plural of morihelinyetillë: black pansy (Viola x wittrockiana "Black Prince"). In the language of flowers, it means "think of me", from the French pensée "thought", as well as "heart’s-ease", the meaning Tolkien associates with this flower. In alchemical circles the viola family is associated with the planet Pluto and with transformation, doorways, death and rebirth.

Nieninqui: Plural of nieninquë: snowdrop, literally "white tear"; the Quenya equivalent of the Sindarin niphredil, which actually translates as "little pallor". In the language of flowers, the snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) means "consolation", as well as "hope". In alchemical circles, the snowdrop is associated with the planet Saturn and with time, boundaries and the knowledge thereof, as well as the grave (Earth of Saturn).

Nai maruvar sérë ar nilmë imbë met tennoio: "May peace and friendship abide between us (dual) forever." For those paying attention, these are the words of reconciliation Manwë spoke to Ingwë prior to the trial.