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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

100: Míriel and the High King

Mistress Míriel was indeed surprised when Glorfindel burst into the house and announced that the High King himself was on his way. She had been unaware of the attack for she had been in the kitchen cooking.

"And does he expect me to feed him as well?" she muttered crossly as she put the kettle on the fire. Glorfindel just grinned and went to set out some cups for tea.

Shortly thereafter Martandur entered, ushering Ingwë and Valandur into the kitchen. Martandur looked decidedly embarrassed. Míriel gave the High King a curtsey but did not look too pleased by his presence, nor was she overawed. Ingwë raised an eyebrow and stole a quick glance at Valandur, who merely shrugged. Glorfindel still had a grin on his face and his eyes twinkled with barely suppressed merriment.

"Please be seated my lords," Martandur said softly, gesturing towards a couple of chairs, which Ingwë and Valandur gracefully took. Míriel sniffed and went back to the stove to check on the soup she was making and Glorfindel poured the tea, handing cups all around. There was an uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

"I think I owe you all an explanation," Ingwë finally said, after taking a sip of tea.

Míriel turned back from the stove, scowling. "You owe us much more than that, my lord king. You needlessly humiliated Lord Glorfindel before all of Vanyamar, compounding your folly by putting my husband and me in the untenable position of having to abet you with this charade of being the owners of a thrall. You should be ashamed of yourself. Glorfindel deserved better from you. You don’t owe us an explanation, Ingwë, you owe us all an apology."

Ingwë went white, his expression turning grim, but Míriel would not back down and she gave him stare for stare. Finally, the High King sighed, closed his eyes and nodded. "You are, of course, correct my dear," he said, admitting defeat. "I do indeed owe you all an apology. Glorfindel has already accepted it from me."

"So he’ll be returning to the palace," Míriel said with a nod, looking more satisfied than she had been.

Both Ingwë and Glorfindel shook their heads. "No, Mistress," Glorfindel answered. "The terms of my indenture remain. I will continue being your thrall for another month."

Míriel exploded then, throwing the ladle she happened to have in her hand over the heads of the High King and his loremaster, both of whom ducked with great alacrity.

"Pui-en-orch!" she screamed, borrowing one of Glorfindel’s favorite curses. "I won’t have it! If you want Glorfindel to remain a thrall, he’s your thrall, not ours. Take him and take yourself..."

What she said after that caused all four ellyn to laugh in shocked surprise. Such language coming from this proper elleth was just too funny in spite of the seriousness of the situation. Martandur went and wrapped his arms around his still fuming wife, rocking her and kissing her until she calmed down. Glorfindel retrieved the ladle while Ingwë and Valandur attempted to get themselves under control.

"Oh my," Ingwë said between gasps of laughter, wiping the tears from his eyes. "My dear, I should chuck my entire privy council and just come to you whenever I need advice. I wish all my subjects were as shockingly honest in their opinion of me as you. Not even Lord Manwë has ever deigned to speak to me in such terms."

"You should have heard what my Mistress called you the night I first came here, my lord," Glorfindel said with a wicked smile. "It was not nearly as polite as what she just said now."

That set Ingwë laughing again. Míriel was not amused. "It was not meant to be funny, my lord," she said with an affronted tone. "I am serious. Glorfindel will not stay here another night. You want him to be a thrall, you can take him yourself or find someone else who is willing to play out this charade of yours, for I am not, nor is my husband."

"Na quildë sinomë, melissenya," Martandur whispered, though all heard. "Let us hear what the High King has to say before we start making any rash statements we will all regret later."

Ingwë gestured to the bench by the door. "Please, child, sit and let me explain. I will not force you to do anything you are not willing to do."

Míriel hesitated for a moment, then, accepting the ladle from Glorfindel, gave the soup a good stir before settling on the bench. Her expression was closed and Glorfindel feared she was not going to listen to what the High King had to say with anything like an open mind and sighed inwardly as he sat down himself. Ingwë must have felt the same way for he spoke, not to the smith and his wife, but to Glorfindel.

"When did you suspect that things were not as they seemed?"

Glorfindel gave the High King a deprecating look. "When Lady Vairë showed up at the archery salle and had Manveru and Erunáro beat me to a pulp. Something about all that made me... suspicious, though I cannot really tell you why."

Ingwë nodded. "Well you may blame Arafinwë and Findaráto for this as well as me. We decided at the trial that if the opportunity presented itself, we would take advantage of setting you up as bait once again. I was never satisfied that Ingoldo was the only one involved in all this. We decided that if people thought you had somehow lost my friendship and protection you would be a likely target of some people’s hatred and need for revenge. I’m sorry I had to do this without your consent, child, but I needed your honest reaction to my decree."

Glorfindel nodded. "I suspected as much once I...got over my anger towards you and thought things through." He ducked his head in embarrassment.

Ingwë sighed. "And for that I truly do apologize, hinya. You will never know how terrified I was for you when you went missing that night, especially when Master Martandur’s horse returned without you. My heart nearly failed me at that moment."

"And I am sorry for that as well," Glorfindel said contritely. "I never meant to cause so much trouble. I... I just needed..." He shrugged, not really sure how to explain what he had felt that night of all nights.

Ingwë seemed to understand his reluctance and leaned over to pat him on the knee in sympathy. Míriel was not impressed. "Hmph. Well, I’m sure we’re all sorry for many things, but it doesn’t change the fact that I will not have Lord Glorfindel under my roof as a thrall for even one more night. This farce has gone on for too long and I, for one, have had enough."

She stood up to tend to the soup, muttering about the intransigency of neri as she gave it a vicious stir. Martandur reddened in embarrassment and the other ellyn looked a bit nonplused. Ingwë sighed and stood up, putting his hands on Míriel’s shoulders and turning her around to look at him.

"Daughter, I understand how you feel, truly, I do," he said gently, leading her back to the bench where she reluctantly resumed her seat. "I would like nothing better than to welcome Glorfindel back where he belongs, but if I rescind the order now.... Those who have set out to disturb the peace of our lands need to see that I will not hesitate to chastise even one whom I love, never mind those who deserve nothing but my wrath for what they have done. Do you understand, child?"

Glorfindel then spoke. "Please, Míriel. I do not mind, truly. In fact, I’ve been enjoying myself more than I thought I could. Martandur has been teaching me his craft and, while I could never be a jewel-smith, I have learned much about creating and appreciating beauty, and in doing so, I’ve learned much about myself, as well."

"You know I’ve been treating Glorfindel more like an apprentice than a thrall anyway, dear," Martandur said soothingly. "He’s actually been quite helpful around the workshop and I’m finding I enjoy teaching my craft to another. You know I’ve hesitated taking another apprentice after the last one, but now I think I would like to again."

Míriel stared at her husband in surprise. "You vowed never to take another apprentice after Amandil ran off with Fëanáro." She paused and her expression went distant. "I wonder whatever happened to him?"

Martandur shrugged. "Neither here nor there, my love. At any rate, I am considering taking on an apprentice after Glorfindel leaves."

Míriel gave the four ellyn a measured look. "Neri!" she said in disgust. "I don’t know why we nissi even bother." She sighed and rose to tend to the soup. "Well, if you’re going to continue living here, Glorfindel, you can set the table for five."

Ingwë and Valandur both raised their eyebrows at that but Glorfindel merely smiled knowingly. "Yes, Mistress. Should I bring out the best dishes?"

Míriel snorted. "Do you think this lot deserves the best dishes?" she asked, but she was smiling when she said it and gave the High King a wink.

Ingwë laughed and offered to help Glorfindel set the table, much to Martandur and Míriel’s shock, Valandur’s amusement and Glorfindel’s delight.

It was quite late before Ingwë and Valandur made their good-byes and returned to the palace, leaving behind three contented elves, one of whom was now a "temporary apprentice", rather than a thrall.

****

Pui-en-orch: (Sindarin) "Orcspit", assuming that a noun derived from the verb puia- would take this shape in Sindarin.

Na quildë sinomë, melissenya: (Quenya) "Be quiet now, my lover [melissë "lover (f.)" + -nya (first person singular possessive adjective)]. The masculine equivalent would be melindonya.

Neri: (Quenya) Plural of nér: adult male of any species.

Nissi: (Quenya) Plural of nís: adult female of any species.





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