101: Alassiel and Vorondil

The next several weeks before the New Year were busy ones for all concerned. Glorfindel continued living and working with Martandur and Míriel, as well as joining in the practices for the upcoming tournament. He was often consulted about logistics but otherwise had no active duties in organizing the tournament itself. That was left to others. Outwardly, he was still seen as being out of the High King’s favor (the fact that he was still not permitted to return to the palace even after the failed attempt on his life proved this in the eyes of many). In reality, however, Ingwë saw and spoke with Glorfindel whenever the ellon came to the training salles, for the High King would come and watch, with Valandur by his side, whenever Glorfindel was scheduled to be there. Only those who accompanied Glorfindel to the salles realized that things had changed between High King and Balrog-slayer, but they did not speak of it to any. What went on inside the training salles remained there.

True to Námo’s word, Manwë sent Ingwë a list of names which the High King then shared with Arafinwë and Olwë. On orders from Ingwë, a quiet surveillance of the people named began. Unbeknown to the three kings, the same list was sent to Finrod, who showed it to no one, not even Laurendil. He memorized the names, burned the list, then went in search of Irmo. What the two spoke about, though, no one learned.

Vorondil returned from Nienna’s all excited about what he had learned and kept wishing someone would suffer a broken leg or something so he could practice on them. "I really want to try the comfrey poultice Lady Nienna taught me to make," he said to Finrod and Laurendil with a mournful sigh. Finrod smiled at the elfling’s enthusiasm.

"Well the New Year tournament that the High King is organizing is coming up. I’m sure you’ll have any number of opportunities to make such a poultice then."

It took Vorondil several seconds to grasp what his master was saying. "You... you mean I’m going to see a real tournament?" he asked with no little awe.

Finrod nodded. "Your atar has asked my permission to enter and I’ve given him my consent."

The sudden image of his atar fighting in the tourney and possibly getting hurt sobered the younger ellon and his expression became more thoughtful. Finrod divined the ellon’s thoughts and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Your atar fought and survived the War of Wrath, Vorondil," he said quietly. "I’m sure he’ll do just fine in the lists. Just think how you can show off your new skills to your atar as you are helping to treat his opponents after he’s finished with them."

Vorondil’s eyes brightened at the prospect. Finrod, Laurendil and Manwen were hard-pressed not to laugh at the ellon’s obvious glee. Just then, Melian came to them and gestured to Vorondil, who went to her gladly.

"Did you enjoy your stay at Lady Nienna’s, child?" the once Queen of Doriath asked. Vorondil nodded, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. Melian smiled warmly at him. "Then why don’t you come and show me everything you learned while you were there." She gently guided the ellon away, and such was her will that the ellon did not seek Finrod’s permission to depart. Melian gave Finrod a brief smile and he nodded in acquiescence, knowing that Lord Irmo was closely monitoring Vorondil’s spiritual state since his Judgment, hence the trip to Nienna’s and now Melian’s involvement.

When his charge was safely away, Finrod turned to Manwen with a smile. "I trust he wasn’t too much to handle?"

"Not at all, my lord," the elleth said with an answering smile. "He was quite well behaved... well, as behaved as any ellon his age can be." They all chuckled at that, Finrod and Laurendil even blushing somewhat, remembering how they were when Vorondil’s age. "Lady Nienna’s Maiar practically adopted him. It was quite amusing to see him following them around like a love-struck puppy, hanging on their every word."

Finrod laughed. "I’m glad to hear it," he said. "How was my cousin Ingwion?"

"Actually, we never saw him the whole time we were there," Manwen said, eliciting a surprised look from Finrod. "I did ask after him, but Lady Nienna would only say that he was well and adjusting to his new status, but what she meant by that she would not say and I knew not to press."

"Hmm," was Finrod’s only comment as he gazed at nothing in particular, thinking. Then, he recollected himself and gave Manwen and Laurendil a warm smile. "Go, my children, and make merry. I know how much you don’t want to be standing here talking to me." He ushered them out of his pavilion.

Laurendil and Manwen both blushed at the implications of Finrod’s words, but they did not try to argue with him. They gave their liege proper bows, then Laurendil reached out his hand and Manwen shyly took it as they walked away, their steps dignified, knowing that Finrod was watching them. However, as soon as they were out of Finrod’s sight they gave each other wicked grins and then they were chasing each other back to their own grove, Manwen’s delighted shriek of laughter echoing along the way. Finrod, re-entering his pavilion, heard it and smiled to himself.

****

Vorondil returned some time later with Melian, bubbling with pride at successfully showing the Maia everything Lady Nienna had taught him, even though, in his initial enthusiasm, he had managed to overturn half the mixtures and burn the other half. He was nearly in tears by then but Melian had merely laughed and told him to take a deep breath and start over. Now he was back with Finrod, happily telling him about everything he had done while at Lady Nienna’s, as Melian looked on with an indulgent smile. The three of them were having tea, though Vorondil was mostly talking rather than eating or drinking.

"... and then Tiutalion took me down to the shore during low tide and showed me how to collect seaweed and dig for clams and we had a fire and cooked the seaweed and clams together and I never had clams before and..."

"Whoa, youngster!" Finrod said with a laugh, holding up his hand. "Slow down. I don’t think you’ve taken a breath since you walked in here."

Vorondil blushed and ducked his head. "Sorry, Master."

Finrod leaned over and ruffled the ellon’s still short hair. "I’m glad you had a good time, child, but I’m also happy you’re back." He pointed to some clothes piled on a chair. "Now I can have properly folded clothes for the first time in a week."

Vorondil sighed and muttered something about not having even unpacked yet, but dutifully got up and began folding Finrod’s tunics and breeches under the watchful eyes of his master and Melian.

*Findaráto, since when are you incapable of folding your own clothes?* Melian sent to her nephew, sounding highly amused.

Finrod hid a smile. *I had to come up with something for Vorondil to do, Aunt.* He was rewarded with the sound of Melian’s laughter in his mind. Out loud, he said, "Manwen told me she didn’t see Ingwion the entire time they were there. That seems rather odd to me."

"I saw Prince Ingwion," Vorondil said as he continued folding.

Finrod gave the ellon a surprised look. "Did you, then?"

Vorondil nodded. "He was talking with... with Lord Námo." He faltered somewhat at that and Finrod was quick to go to him and make him sit down, gently removing the tunic the ellon was crushing between his hands. Melian poured out some more tea and bade Vorondil to drink.

"Would you like to tell me?" Finrod asked gently, glad to see that the ellon’s color was returning so quickly.

Vorondil nodded and took another sip or two of the tea, gathering his thoughts. "I was wandering through the house one day. It was raining outside so I couldn’t go to the beach. I was walking along the upper gallery when I came upon a door that was half open and there were low voices coming from the room beyond. One of them sounded familiar but I wasn’t sure. I... I peeked around the door to see who was there and I saw this library and Prince Ingwion was there... along with Lord Námo."

Finrod and Melian remained quiet, allowing the ellon to tell his tale in his own way and in his own time. Vorondil drained his cup and Melian poured some more tea for him, eliciting a smile of thanks from him.

"Prince Ingwion was dressed like one of Lady Nienna’s Maiar in a grey tunic and surcoat. He was standing at a table looking at a map. Lord Námo was standing next to him, pointing something out....

"...and Avallónë looks out upon the Great Sea," Námo said, then without bothering to look up he spoke to Vorondil standing at the door, sounding not unkindly. "In or out, child, make up your mind."

Ingwion looked up at that and realized that his cousin’s thrall was peeking around the door, his eyes wide as saucers. He gave the younger ellon a warm smile and gestured. "Come here, child," he said and was pleased that Vorondil was quick to obey, although he was obviously reluctant to be there, eyeing the Lord of Mandos warily. Ingwion drew Vorondil close to him.

"Tell me what you see," he said, pointing to the map. Vorondil stared at it for a moment.

"Tol Eressëa," he answered.

"Have you ever been there?"

Vorondil shook his head. Ingwion nodded. "Me neither, but it seems that I will see it soon enough."

"Why? There’s nothing interesting there." Vorondil said in genuine confusion, furrowing his brow, trying to figure out why anyone would want to go to Tol Eressëa.

Ingwion stole a glance at Lord Námo and saw that the Vala’s eyes were bright with barely suppressed amusement. "Vorondil," Námo said quietly and Ingwion was in time to see the child go white and grabbed him before he collapsed entirely. He led him to a nearby chair and then found a carafe of water and a cup on the table that hadn’t been there previously. Ingwion poured the water into the cup and gave it to Vorondil to drink. Námo merely stood there, watching impassively.

"Feeling better?" Ingwion asked as he took the now empty cup from Vorondil, who was looking less pale. Vorondil nodded but did not otherwise speak, merely sitting there, waiting.

Námo took a step forward and gently brushed his hand through Vorondil’s shorn locks. Ingwion saw the ellon shiver once and then go still, slowly looking up to gaze into Lord Námo’s eyes. For a long moment there was silence, then Vorondil blinked a couple of times and stifled a yawn. Námo helped him to stand, gently kissing the ellon on the head.

"Why don’t you lie down for a while, child?" the Lord of Mandos said quietly. "I think you’ll feel better with a nap."

Ingwion saw the ellon nod and then without another word walk out of the library, presumably to find his bed....

"Then I woke up some hours later," Vorondil concluded. "I went in search of the library, but couldn’t find it again. When I asked Lady Nienna, she just smiled and said the library would be there when I most needed it." He gave Finrod and Melian a puzzled look. "Why do They... always speak in riddles?"

Finrod raised an eyebrow and Melian smiled. "It’s part of their mystique," Finrod answered. "Now, if you’re feeling better, why don’t you finish up folding the clothes and then you are free from any other duties for the rest of the day."

"Yes, Master," Vorondil said and dutifully returned to folding the clothes while Finrod motioned Melian to follow him out of the pavilion.

"You did not ask him what passed between him and Lord Námo," Melian said as they walked towards the grove’s entrance.

"I know better than to ask, Aunt," Finrod replied somewhat shortly.

Melian nodded, not taking offense at her Nephew’s tone. "So where are you going?"

"To see my cousin and let her know Vorondil’s back."

"She’s been very quiet these last few days," Melian observed, giving Finrod an amused look. "I understand that when Lirulin heard what happened, she took her daughter to task."

"As well she should," Finrod said with a satisfied nod. "Lirulin seems to be thriving now that Ingoldo and Tinwetariel are no longer in her life. I have a feeling they helped contribute to her desire to fade."

Melian frowned. "If that is true, they are guilty of more than conspiring against the Sérë Valaron."

"I, of course, have no proof either way," Finrod admitted, "but certainly Tinwetariel’s poison can be seen effecting Alassiel at times. My cousin’s behavior towards Vorondil is proof enough for me in that regard."

"Well, hopefully, the child will be able to rid herself of her grandmother’s influence. Intarion should not have to return to Life to face a half-faded wife and a bitter-hearted and arrogant daughter."

Finrod nodded, giving her a bow and a kinsman’s kiss before heading to the grove where Alassiel and her amillë were lodged.

****

Alassiel was sitting outside her pavilion embroidering, or trying to. Lirulin was doing the same. Her amillë had effectively forbidden her to leave the grove for the duration of their stay unless summoned by Lord Irmo or Prince Findaráto.

"I will have your meals sent," Lirulin had said, disappointment heavy in her voice. "Honestly, Alassiel, I expect better from any daughter of mine. Attacking a defenseless child that way, frightening him for no good reason. What were you thinking? Were you thinking?"

Alassiel had not even attempted to defend herself. The shame she had felt at how her cousin had treated her still rankled and she felt herself getting angry all over again at the thought.

"He had no right to slap me," she said crossly, viciously stabbing the needle through the cloth.

"He had every right, daughter," Lirulin rejoined. "And even if he didn’t it’s no more than you deserved. If your atar were here..."

"But he’s not, is he?" Alassiel cried out, standing to face her amillë. "He’s languishing in Mandos while my exalted cousin, who defied the Valar, is prancing around, acting like he’s the High King."

"Hardly prancing, Cousin."

Alassiel turned to see Findaráto standing at the grove’s entrance with an amused look on his face. She felt her face redden with embarrassment and throwing down her embroidery, fled into the pavilion. Lirulin shook her head and sighed, standing gracefully to offer Findaráto a respectful curtsey.

"Your Highness," she said correctly, but Finrod went to her and raised her up, giving her a light kiss.

"None of that, Lirulin," Finrod said. "After all, I used to pull your hair when we were elflings and you used to bite me."

"I never did," Lirulin said with a laugh. "That was my evil twin sister, Niluril."

"Oh, so that’s who it was," Finrod joined her in laughter. "And here I’ve been all set to wreak my revenge on you. Evil twin sister, heh? No chance of meeting up with her again, is there?"

Lirulin shook her head. "She disappeared a long time ago, Finda," she said almost wistfully, using the pet-name she had called him so long ago. "I grew up, and she... well, let’s just say I no longer needed her."

Finrod nodded. "I’m glad to know that you’ve decided not to fade, Lirulin," he said quietly, changing the subject. "It grieved me when Glorfindel told me about it."

Lirulin paled somewhat. "In that, I had no choice, you see. Lord Námo..."

Finrod raised a finger to her lips. "Say no more, my dear. I’m well aware of how Lord Námo’s little talks affect people."

Lirulin gave Finrod a steady look. "Are you happy to be back in Aman, Findaráto?"

Finrod gave her another kiss. "Yes, Lirulin. I am happy to be back where I belong. Have no fear for me in that regard. Now, I came to tell Alassiel that Vorondil has returned. I will arrange a meeting between them so she can apologize to him."

Lirulin nodded and sighed. "I apologize as well, your Highness. If I hadn’t been so foolish as to allow myself not to care..."

"Hush now, my dear," Finrod said soothingly. "Alassiel is no longer an elfling. She was fully cognizant of what she was doing. The fault lies solely with her. You are not to blame."

Lirulin gave Finrod a brief, sad smile. "Thank you for that, at least. I will tell her. She’s been told not to go outside this grove save by either Lord Irmo’s leave or yours."

"I will let you know when the meeting will take place. I do not intend to leave Vorondil alone with her, so she will have to endure my presence while she gives her apology to him."

He took his leave then, and Lirulin went inside to inform her daughter of what Finrod had said, but when she entered, there was no sign of Alassiel.

****

Alassiel ran. She wasn’t sure she could get away with it, but it was worth the try. She had no intention of apologizing to either Findaráto or his stupid thrall. Vorondil should have told her the truth. She paused to make sure there was no pursuit. She could still hear her amillë and Findaráto talking, and grimaced when she heard them laughing. No doubt they were laughing about her.

Her cousin had been right about one thing, she ruefully admitted to herself as she made for the trees. She should have stayed in Vanyamar. She wondered briefly what was happening there and how poor Glorfindel fared. Honestly, what was Uncle thinking, banishing him like that? She shook her head and concentrated on finding a way through. The trees comprising the grove stood close together to provide privacy, but not so close that a determined elleth could not make her way between them, though she feared her gown was ruined beyond all hope.

At last, she found herself outside. Brushing herself down as best she could, she looked around. No one was in sight. Now that she was outside, she was at a momentary loss as to what to do. Find her horse. That would be a start. Then she could perhaps sneak some provisions and be on her way. Findaráto wanted her in Vanyamar, well that’s where she would go.

She got her bearings and strode purposefully, but not too quickly, down the sward to where the stables were located, unaware that at least three Maiar and a Sinda who was sitting in a nearby tree watched her go. She never heard the wood elf silently follow her from the trees.

****

Vorondil finished his chores and changed out of his tabard. With the rest of the day before him he was wondering what he should do, then decided to wander down by the stables and visit with his horse, snagging a couple of apples from the dining pavilion along the way. He was happily munching on one of the apples as he approached the stables when he was nearly run over by someone rushing out on a horse. It took a surprised moment for him to recognize the horse, if not the rider.

"Rocco!" he screamed. "Someone’s stealing Rocco!" Vorondil started to run after the thief when he was grabbed from behind and found himself in the arms of a Maia. He was nearly in tears watching his precious horse being stolen.

"Easy, child," the Maia said. "No one is stealing your horse."

At that moment Vorondil saw an ellon drop from a tree and give a strange whistle. Almost at once Rocco came to a stop, throwing his rider, who fell hard on her left arm with a screech. Rocco came prancing back and when the Maia released him, Vorondil ran to him, making sure his horse had come to no harm.

Meantime, the Maia and the strange elf were tending to the fallen rider. Finrod showed up then, looking grim. He had been alerted by both a flustered Lirulin and Lord Irmo’s people. He went first to Vorondil, who told him what had happened.

"Why don’t you take Rocco back to the stables and see him settled, then return here," Finrod ordered the younger ellon. Vorondil nodded, leading Rocco back to the stables.

Finrod then went to see to Alassiel. He gave the Maia an appraising look. "Rather coincidental that she just happened to steal Vorondil’s horse instead of taking her own."

The Maia merely grinned. "If you believe in coincidences."

Finrod snorted, then greeted the Sinda. "My thanks, Mithlas, for your timely intervention. Vorondil loves that horse more than anything."

Mithlas grinned. "Well, when a highborn elleth comes through the trees where she shouldn’t have, I was curious." He nodded towards where Vorondil was entering the stable. "That child is your... thrall?"

"Technically, for the next thirty years," Finrod answered, "but for all intents and purposes, he’s an apprentice healer under Lord Irmo’s protection and we are careful to treat him as such."

"I understand, aran nîn," Mithlas said.

"So, how are you faring, mellon nîn?" Finrod asked even as he was cursorily giving Alassiel an examination to ascertain the extent of her injuries. The elleth had gashed her head when she hit a rock in her fall and was only just coming around. Besides the gash, her left arm was broken in two places, though luckily they were clean snaps.

"Well enough," Mithlas said. "Lord Irmo says that I can return to Tol Eressëa whenever I wish. I’ve just been lingering long enough to say farewell to the trees here. That’s what I was doing when this lady came through the grove."

"I’m glad you finally found healing, mellon nîn," Finrod said. He glanced up at the Maia. "I’m going to need splints and a stretcher, Ingil."

"I can find splints," Mithlas said as he leapt up and ran towards the trees.

Ingil smiled. "I’ve already alerted Lord Irmo and a stretcher is on its way."

Finrod nodded and placed a hand on the elleth’s head as she came back to consciousness. "How are you feeling, Cousin?" he asked solicitously.

"He named his horse ‘Rocco’?" was all she could say, disbelievingly.

Finrod found himself smiling. "It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?"

"But Rocco?" she insisted, trying to ignore the pain in her head and in her left arm.

Finrod shrugged. "I think it’s a rather sensible name and easy to remember."

"What’s wrong with ‘Rocco’? It’s a good name."

Finrod looked up to see Vorondil standing there looking hurt. "My cousin apparently doesn’t think it’s suitable."

Vorondil gave Alassiel a glare. "Why does she hate me so much, Master?" he asked.

Finrod shook his head. "She doesn’t know you well enough to hate you, child. Now, Mithlas is looking for some splints for Lady Alassiel’s arm. Why don’t you go find some comfrey? It looks as if you get to practice what you’ve learned sooner than expected. This gash on the head needs tending to as well."

"You’re going to let him practice on me?" Alassiel nearly screamed. "I won’t have it!"

Finrod’s expression darkened. "What you want or don’t want at this point is immaterial, daughter. Now lie still and be quiet." He glanced up at the younger ellon, who stood there looking uncertain, and smiled encouragingly. "Ingil will show you where the best comfrey can be found, won’t you, Ingil?"

"I would be honored," the Maia said with a smile. "Come, Vorondil, I know just where to look."

Together the Maia and Vorondil went in search of comfrey. Mithlas came back with suitable flat pieces for a splint just as several Lóriennildi and Estenduri arrived with a stretcher and other medical equipment. Finrod stepped aside and let them at it, cautioning them not to tend to the head wound save to clean it.

"I promised Vorondil he could make a comfrey poultice for the gash. He’s off with Ingil looking for some."

"Poetic justice, if there ever was any."

Finrod turned to see Lord Irmo standing there, smiling, and returned it with one of his own. "Vorondil’s been dying to try out what he’s learned on someone. Alassiel has volunteered."

At that Alassiel, who had remained silent all this time, gave a screech as one of the elves reset the bones in her arm. She turned absolutely white, then green, and Finrod was just in time to help raise her up so she could be sick without choking on her own vomit. Afterwards they moved her away from the spot, one of the Lóriennildi wiping her face with a wet cloth and giving her some water with which to rinse her mouth. Finrod then knelt in front of her and placed her head in his lap, laying a soothing hand on her forehead and gently stroking it.

Lord Irmo stood looking on impassively, though his eyes were dark with emotion. "I should turn you over to my brother, my dear," he said in a mild voice that nevertheless sent shivers down the spines of the elves there. Even Finrod flinched somewhat at the Vala’s words. Alassiel just moaned and cowered further into Finrod’s lap. "But I think I’ll just let Findaráto deal with your intransigence. In the end, though, I suspect that you will wish Lord Námo had had a hand in your... chastisement instead."

Alassiel glanced up at the Vala in disbelief. Lord Irmo merely nodded. "Yes, child. You may find Findaráto is not as forgiving as my brother Námo."

Alassiel turned her gaze towards her cousin, who smiled coldly at her. "Did I not warn you, daughter, that I tend not to take prisoners when my own are threatened?" He bent down and gently kissed her on her brow.

For some reason she could not fathom, that simple gesture frightened her more than anything ever had and she suddenly began screaming. They had to tie her to the stretcher. No one attempted to still her screams as they carried her away.

As Alassiel’s screams faded in the distance Finrod turned to Irmo. "I had better go see how Vorondil’s doing with the poultice. He’s likely to burn the grove down in his enthusiasm."

Irmo chuckled. "I’m sure Ingil is keeping an eye on him. You and I need to talk."

"About what?" Finrod asked in surprise.

"About your other cousin, Ingwion," Irmo answered. "It’s time to apprise you of certain developments."

Finrod nodded and bowed. "I am at your service, Master."

"Yes, you are," Irmo said somewhat sardonically and Finrod was left wondering about that as he followed the Vala away from the stables.

****

Rocco: (Quenya) Horse.