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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

102: Alassiel and Finrod

The days that followed her abortive attempt to leave Lórien were unpleasant ones for Alassiel. First there was the absolute mortification she felt whenever she thought how she had been thwarted in her desire to leave, especially by a Sinda of all people. Then there was the pain from her broken arm and gashed head. When Vorondil came with the poultice for her head they had to tie her down again to keep her in one place long enough for him to minister to her. In the end, one of the masters was sent for to calm her down, singing to her so that she was falling asleep before she realized what was happening. When she woke up it was to find Finrod sitting by her bed, softly strumming his harp.

He gave her a wintry smile. "You’re making this harder on yourself than is really necessary, Cousin," he said without preamble. "Why do you persist in this intransigence?"

"Where’s my amillë?" she asked, not wishing to answer Finrod’s question.

"She’s on her way back to Vanyamar."

Alassiel sat up, disbelief in her expression. "She’s what?"

Finrod nodded. "I suggested that she might want to return to Vanyamar and she agreed."

Alassiel glared at him. "Suggested or ordered?"

Finrod shrugged. "Does it really matter, Alassiel? The result is the same. She’s not here."

She wanted to scream at him and let him know just what she thought of him at that moment but she was suffering too much pain and found herself lying back on her bed, trying not to think too much. She flinched slightly when she felt a hand on her forehead and opened her eyes to see Finrod leaning over her, a look of compassion in his eyes.

"Let me ease some of the pain, child," he said gently and Alassiel nodded mutely. Finrod started singing, caressing her hair and it was as if the pain were flowing out of her. There was such a sense of relief that she sighed, nestled further into the covers and fell asleep almost at once.

****

When she woke again it was to find Vorondil there, but he wasn’t alone. One of the Maiar was with him, giving the ellon instructions.

"... and you must make sure the poultice is not too hot when you apply it or it will burn the skin and cause more pain," the Maia said as he helped Vorondil remove the bandages on Alassiel’s head. She flinched automatically when Vorondil reached for her but the Maia held her head steady and she was forced to endure his touch, though she had to admit the fresh poultice did provide relief almost immediately. She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling herself drifting.

"I think she’s feeling better already, Ingil," she heard Vorondil say. "That gash looks ugly. Will she need stitching?"

"Possibly," Ingil responded, "We’ll let Lady Manwen take a look in a few days. It may heal on its own."

Then someone entered the pavilion. "How’s our patient?" she heard Finrod ask and cringed slightly, refusing to open her eyes.

"We just replaced the poultice, Master," Vorondil stated. "Ingil had to hold her still, though. I don’t think she likes me too much."

"Having your patients like you is not a requisite for healing them, Vorondil," Finrod said with a chuckle, "though it does help."

Alassiel felt Finrod lean over her, looking at Vorondil’s handiwork. "Very good, Vorondil," he said approvingly. "You are a very apt pupil."

"Thank you, Master." Alassiel could almost see the ellon glowing with pride from Finrod’s praise even with her eyes closed.

"Well, when the splints come off we’ll have to discuss suitable punishment," Finrod then said somewhat off-handedly and Alassiel opened her eyes in spite of herself and stared at her cousin with some trepidation. Finrod, however, was not paying any attention to her, his eyes fixed on Vorondil instead.

"You mean she gets to be punished for stealing Rocco?" Vorondil asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

Finrod gave the elfling a deliberate look. "What would you consider suitable punishment?"

The ellon thought for a moment and then nodded to himself. "Well... since she’s obviously so fond of Rocco..." he gave Finrod a sly look, "she should muck out his stall." Then he flashed his master a wide grin. Finrod threw back his head and laughed, ruffling Vorondil’s hair as he did.

Alassiel scowled. "I fail to see the humor in that, Findaráto."

Finrod gave her a cool look. "I think, my dear, that for the foreseeable future you had best address me as ‘my lord’."

There was something in his tone just then that sent a frisson of fear through her spine and she looked away.

"Your arm should be healed within a week I imagine," Finrod continued. "In the meantime, I’ve asked Lord Irmo to have one of his Maiar tend to you. With Lirulin gone, you’ll need help with getting dressed and such."

Alassiel turned back to Finrod and then gave Ingil a dubious look which the Maia returned with a faint smile. "Don’t worry child," he said. "I think Lady Melian has volunteered to help you."

That, however, did not reassure her, but she obviously had no say in any of this. She sighed and closed her eyes again, wishing everyone would go away and leave her alone. It became quiet after that and she was unaware that Finrod had motioned Vorondil to leave with Ingil so that only he remained. He sat beside her as she drifted towards sleep again. She would have been surprised to see the fond look he gave her as he watched over her.

****

Melian was there when she woke again, feeling hungry. The Maia queen greeted her quietly and offered to help her dress. "I’ve had something sent," she said to Alassiel as she helped her with her shift. "I don’t think you will want to leave the grove any time soon, at least until your arm is fully healed."

Alassiel grimaced at that since she knew what was really being said, but otherwise offered no other protest, resigning herself to the situation for the moment. Once the splints were off though...

As if divining the tenor of her thoughts Melian shook her head. "Don’t even think of it, child. Lord Irmo has alerted all his people. You will not be able to leave Lórien until Findaráto says you may."

"So I’m a prisoner," Alassiel said sourly, sitting hard upon her bed, half-dressed but no longer caring.

"You came here of your own free will, child," Melian said in mild rebuke. "If you are a prisoner, you have no one to blame but yourself. Your actions to date have been less than sterling. I don’t think Ingwë would approve."

Alassiel shuddered at that. Her Great-uncle had always been kind and indulgent towards her, especially after her atar’s death, but she knew that he expected certain behavior from his family and her recent behavior would not have been tolerated in Ingwë’s court.

"So what now?" she asked deflatedly.

Melian shook her head. "Now, I think you should finish getting dressed and have something to eat. Time enough for the rest later."

****

Lady Manwen came two days later with Vorondil in tow to check on her head wound, giving the ellon a running lecture on proper suturing techniques that left Alassiel feeling ill and Vorondil’s eyes glowing with anticipation.

"However," Manwen concluded with a sympathetic smile for Alassiel, "I don’t think it will be necessary in this case. The wound is closing nicely. We’ll keep the poultice on it for a day longer and then remove the bandages. Now, let’s take a look at the arm."

The examination was brief but thorough and Manwen declared that the splints could be removed in two days. Alassiel found she wasn’t looking forward to the prospect as the two Lóriennildi left. It didn’t help that during the week she saw no sign of Findaráto. Whenever she thought about him, though, her level of anxiety rose, wondering what he planned to do to her.

****

The day the splints were removed, only Melian and Finrod were present, much to Alassiel’s relief.

"I’m not a healer by any means," Finrod said as he began unwrapping the splints, "but I’m capable of removing splints. The Valar know I had plenty of practice while in Endórë. Now, let’s see how your arm works."

He had her do a series of exercises to determine how well the bones had healed and she was pleased that there was no residual pain and she had full range of motion.

Finrod nodded. "Mucking out Rocco’s stall should help strengthen the muscles more."

Alassiel stared at him in disbelief. "You’re not serious? I thought you were just humoring the... the elfling."

The former King of Nargothrond gave her a penetrating look. "Very serious, Alassiel, and that’s not all you’ll be doing while you’re here, either."

"What do you mean?" she asked with some trepidation.

"After you’ve broken your fast each morning you will report to the stables for two hours to muck out Rocco’s stall and curry him and then do any other chores the stablemaster requires of you. After that, you’ll report to the kitchens where you will help out with luncheon preparations, including the cleaning up afterwards. When you’re finished with that you’ll have a couple of hours free to do as you please, though you will be confined to this grove."

"Well, thank you for that, at least," she said sourly, giving him her best scowl.

Finrod merely smiled. "After you have rested, you will spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening with me."

"Doing what exactly?" she asked suspiciously.

"Whatever I tell you, daughter," Finrod replied coldly, no longer smiling. Alassiel felt herself shivering and the blood fled from her face as fear smote her. Finrod shook his head, his expression less forbidding. "Fear not, child. I will never command from you anything shameful or against your deepest will and... we will be properly chaperoned."

Alassiel raised an eyebrow. "Chaperoned?" she asked, casting a glance at Melian who had remained quiet and in the background during their conversation. The Maia queen merely smiled and nodded her head.

Now Finrod smiled again and nodded. "There will always be at least one other elleth or Maia present for the sake of propriety. Your... integrity is safe with me."

Alassiel wasn’t sure just how to take that, so she remained quiet. Finrod continued speaking. "I realize you did not bring appropriate clothes for mucking out stalls and such, so I’ve asked Melian and Manwen to provide you with whatever is necessary. When you are with me, however, you may wear the gowns you are accustomed to wearing."

"How kind," Alassiel said with a sniff.

"Kindness has nothing to do with it, Alassiel," Finrod answered. "You will find that I’m not kind at all. Just ask Vorondil or Laurendil."

She gave him a puzzled look, for as far as she could tell her cousin treated his thrall with great tenderness and Laurendil with great respect. His words confused her.

Finrod stood up then. "You should rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day for you." He gave her a brief bow and left. Melian remained behind.

****

By the time she finished wiping and putting away the last dish, Alassiel was ready to drop. She couldn’t believe how much work it was to muck out stalls, curry horses and the myriad other things the stablemaster had her do, and then to spend the next several hours peeling vegetables, serving tables and then washing up afterwards. The fact that she was expected to serve the tables mortified her, but no one seemed to recognize or even pay any attention to her. As she made her way to her pavilion she felt sweaty and filthy and her left arm ached. She was practically reeling and feared she would not make it to the grove. Luckily, Melian was there to guide and support her.

"It’s just a little further, dear," the Maia said quietly. "There’s a hot bath waiting for you and then you can rest for a while before joining Findaráto."

The bath would be welcome, she decided, but she was not looking forward to being in her cousin’s presence. In that, of course, she had no choice and two hours later she found herself entering Findaráto’s pavilion. Vorondil was not there. Finrod was seated at a portable writing desk pouring over some papers. He glanced up and gave her an expectant look and Alassiel realized belatedly that he was waiting for her to curtsey, which she did with some reluctance, her expression set.

"You may sit over here, Alassiel," Finrod said, pointing to a chair that faced the desk. She gave Melian a glance. The Maia merely nodded and moved to stand in a corner, content to simply be a witness to whatever her nephew had in mind. Alassiel sighed and sat where she was bidden. Finrod turned back to his papers and apparently ceased to remember she was there. She sat there for some time, waiting, trying not to fidget. Nearly fifteen minutes went by before Finrod stopped what he was doing, sat back and gave Alassiel a measured look. She tried not to show any emotion but inside she was seething.

"The first thing we need to do," Finrod said as he stood up and walked over to a sideboard to pour some wine into a couple of goblets, "is to cure you of your arrogance."

She started at that. "My what?"

"You’ve been too heavily influenced by your grandparents, Alassiel," Finrod continued, handing one of the goblets to Melian and taking a sip from the other. He did not bother to offer Alassiel any wine. "It’s time to put a stop to that influence before you end up sharing their exile."

Alassiel found herself shivering at that.

"What do you propose, Nephew?" Melian asked curiously.

Finrod sat down again and gave Alassiel a brief smile that did nothing to reassure her. She suddenly was reminded of Ingwë when he was acting as High King, rather than as an indulgent uncle, and realized that she had been underestimating her cousin, thinking of him as she did Glorfindel — an amusing adolescent ellon. But, she now recognized that such thoughts were erroneous. Findaráto was not an adolescent, had not been for some time now. Certainly his demeanor during her grandfather’s trial proved that. She found herself blushing for no particular reason and could not meet his gaze.

"Working in the stables for two hours, followed by a stint in the kitchens, would be enough to curb most people’s arrogance," Finrod finally said, taking a sip of wine, "but in your case, my dear...."

Alassiel shrugged, still not willing to look at her cousin. "I’d forgotten what hard work it is to muck out a stall, but atto made me do that and more before he allowed me to have a horse of my own."

"Intarion was very wise, as I recall," Finrod said with a nod. "He did, after all, marry your amillë."

Alassiel looked up in surprise at the unexpected compliment and found herself smiling in spite of herself, though it did not last long. "He should never have gone to war," she said quietly. "He promised he would come back to me, but he didn’t. He died because of you and all the others who defied the Valar. I don’t think I can ever forgive you Noldor for that."

"Ah, now we are getting to it," Finrod said. "Yet, your feelings towards the Noldor in no way excuse your actions to date, especially against Vorondil. He’s suffered enough without you compounding the problem."

"He’s suffered?" she asked disbelievingly. "That brat was responsible for what happened to Glorfindel...."

Finrod shook his head. "Only in part. The greater blame can be laid at your grandparents’ feet, and you know this. At any rate, Vorondil is being suitably punished for his crimes, which brings us back to you."

"I’ve committed no crime," Alassiel protested.

"Abusing a child... causing both physical and emotional anguish... stealing a horse... not to mention disobeying a Vala," Finrod ticked off each transgression with a finger. "Do you want to rethink that statement, Cousin?"

Alassiel found herself blushing and looking away.

"Well, crimes or not," Finrod continued, "your actions to date warrant some sort of intervention on our part." He paused for a moment and sighed. "Believe me, Cousin, I do not like this any more than you, but if something is not done... Do you truly wish to follow in your grandparents’ footsteps?" He gave her a moment to think about that before continuing. "Do you know what Lord Oromë called you?"

She looked up in surprise at the unexpected question and shook her head.

"He called you a fierce warrior-maid," Finrod said with a chuckle.

"He did?" she asked. "But, I’m not a warrior. I’ve never even picked up a sword. Why would he call me that?"

Finrod shrugged. "I’m sure he has his reasons. In the meantime, though, I think it will be fun to see if we can’t make his statement true."

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked with some trepidation, not sure she liked the way he was looking at her.

"I’ve decided to enter the tournament Ingwë is holding at the New Year," Finrod replied with a smile. "Laurendil is busy with his apprenticeship and Vorondil is too young, so I’ve decided to make you my temporary squire. I’m going to teach you how to wield a sword and you are going to learn how to act as my squire."

"Are you serious?" she asked in disbelief. She was unaware of Melian, standing behind her, smiling widely.

"Very serious, Alassiel," and there was no light of amusement in his eyes now. "Believe me when I tell you that in a very short while you will come to hate me with every breath you breathe as I do my level best to beat that arrogance of yours out of you."

Alassiel could only stare at him in shock as the ramifications of her cousin’s words finally made their way into her soul. She suddenly realized just what Lord Irmo had meant about her eventually wishing Lord Námo were chastising her instead.

Finrod gave her a cold smile. "Like I said before, child, I tend not to take any prisoners."





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