110: Putting Glorfindel in the Mood

Ingwion arrived the next afternoon. He went first to greet his atar and amillë and then made his way to the encampment to find Finrod. When he entered the compound, he also found Glorfindel there. Technically, Glorfindel would not be released from Martandur’s service for another day, but the jewel-smith had declared that he no longer needed Glorfindel’s help and had given him his permission to visit with Finrod and continue his training. Glorfindel had thus removed his belongings to Finrod’s tent, sharing the sleeping quarters with his two brothers.

Ingwion, who had been apprised by his atar of all that had happened concerning Glorfindel during his absence, was therefore not surprised to see him sitting with Finrod and Sador by the fire sipping on a yellow wine. Nor was he surprised to see Vorondil quietly going about the task of putting together the evening meal. He was surprised to see his cousin Alassiel sitting nearby polishing armor, for Ingwë had not told him about her being Finrod’s squire. It was a situation of which the High King did not entirely approve, but would not gainsay.

"What is this, Cousin?" Ingwion exclaimed as he entered the encampment. "Polishing armor instead of your nails?"

"Ingwion!"

Everyone but Vorondil jumped up at once and tried to hug Ingwion at the same time. The firstborn son of the High King laughed and gave each of them a warm hug. "I see that there is more than one tale to tell," he said as Finrod led him to the fire, ordering Vorondil to bring another goblet of wine. "So what is this all about?" he asked, nodding towards the armor and the cleaning rag still in Alassiel’s hand.

"A long tale, Cousin," Finrod said with a smile. "We will explain later, but first, you must tell us how you fare." He gave Ingwion a shrewd look.

Ingwion merely shook his head. "I fare well, Findaráto, never fear," he answered, "though I am glad to be back in Vanyamar. I’ve missed you all, especially you, Glorfindel." Ingwion paused and gave Glorfindel a sympathetic look. "Atar told me what has happened with you. I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer so."

Glorfindel did not answer, staring into the fire. Finrod smiled sadly at his brother and placed a comforting hand on the ellon’s arm, though Glorfindel did not acknowledge it. Ingwion raised an enquiring eyebrow at Finrod who returned the gesture with a slight shake of his head, his smile fading into a worried frown. Sador, Ingwion noticed, looked equally worried though he had not said anything.

"Glorfindel," Ingwion said quietly but with authority and there was something in his tone that made Finrod’s eyebrows go up.

Glorfindel gave a small gasp, as if coming back to himself from somewhere else, and looked up at Ingwion, his eyes full of confusion and tears. Without saying anything more, Ingwion stood up and pulled Glorfindel into his embrace. Only then did Glorfindel allow himself to let go and begin weeping quietly. Finrod and Sador both stood in alarm but Ingwion waved them off. Alassiel and Vorondil, he noticed, were looking equally concerned. He gave them both an encouraging smile over Glorfindel’s shoulder even as he continued to hold the ellon and rock him gently.

"Hush now, best beloved," he whispered, though all there heard him. Finrod and Sador exchanged looks and smiles at the epithet Ingwion used but otherwise did not interfere. Glorfindel merely clung to the elven prince all the more. "I know it’s been hard for you, pretending that all is well and it mattered not what you were doing or why. But you don’t have to pretend with me... or with anyone else who knows you."

"You need to talk about it, háno," Finrod said, placing a comforting hand on Glorfindel’s back. "If not to me or anyone here, then to someone. Do not let this fester inside you."

"Findaráto is correct, child."

They all turned to see both Arafinwë and Olwë standing at the entrance, their expressions sober. Glorfindel attempted to wipe the tears from his eyes as he pulled himself out of Ingwion’s embrace. Ingwion let him go.

"You need to talk about this," Arafinwë said as he walked into the compound. "Do not let the bitterness I sense in you fester. It will do no one good, least of all you."

"T-to whom should I speak?" Glorfindel asked hesitantly, not really sure he wanted to talk to anyone about his feelings anyway.

Arafinwë shook his head. "That is for you to decide, child. Everyone here is willing to listen, but we are not the only choices. I think, though, that you need to resolve this before the ceremonies for the New Year. You know Ingwë plans to reinstate you into his court then."

Glorfindel flinched at those words and shook his head, suddenly looking angry. "I don’t want...."

Arafinwë shook his head. "No, child. That’s not the way to act. Refusing Ingwë would not be an intelligent move right now. I know you’re feeling hurt and betrayed, but frankly, you only brought it on yourself. You know you were in the wrong."

Arafinwë’s voice had gone somewhat cold at that point and Finrod at least recognized the tone as one that had been directed towards him a time or two when he had been an elfling and had done something he shouldn’t have. He smiled sympathetically at Glorfindel who now stood there looking unsure.

"Atar is correct, hannonya," he said, putting on his best "older brother" look, "though I know you think differently. What’s done is done and you need to deal with it or you will suffer for it. Do not come to the New Year ceremonies with anger in your heart. It will only destroy you in the end."

Glorfindel grimaced but did not contradict him. Arafinwë brushed a hand through the ellon’s hair. "You’re feeling hurt and confused now, but you don’t have to do this alone, child. There are too many who care for you to allow you that bit of luxury." He reached over and took Glorfindel into his arms and gave him a brief hug and a kiss on the brow before letting him go. "Now, let us move on to other things." He nodded to Olwë who sat down beside the fire. Everyone followed suit, though Glorfindel did so reluctantly.

"Ingwë has asked us to help oversee the tournament," Olwë said without preamble. "We are determining who will be competing and in what categories so the heralds will be able to draw up a preliminary list... unless there are challenges."

"Has anyone declared a challenge, Anatar?" Finrod asked curiously.

"One," Olwë said, giving Glorfindel a significant look.

Everyone looked at Glorfindel in surprise, but Glorfindel refused to look anyone in the eye.

"Whom have you challenged, Glorfindel?" Finrod demanded, his voice and mien going cold.

Glorfindel did not answer, though he looked up briefly at Ingwion. Now Finrod’s eyes narrowed. "Are you mad, brother?" he demanded. "Challenging Ingwë will not work. He will not fight you anyway. You will have to fight whomever he chooses as his champion."

"And that would be me," Ingwion said baldly. "Is that what you want, otornya?"

Glorfindel flinched slightly at Ingwion’s tone and shook his head but still would not answer. Arafinwë and Olwë exchanged looks and something passed between them that the others did not catch. Arafinwë turned back to Glorfindel.

"If you continue with this challenge, Glorfindel, there will be no point in any reconciliation between you and Ingwë... and you will not be welcomed back to Tirion, or even Alqualondë."

Glorfindel looked up then, his expression one of shock. Arafinwë nodded, his own expression stony and Olwë looked equally grim.

"Whatever the outcome, you will not be welcomed in our courts, though it grieves me to say it. You will be permitted to remove yourself to Tol Eressëa but you will not be permitted back in Aman if you go there unless the Valar summon you. Is that what you truly want, child, exile from your brothers and from me?"

Glorfindel went white then, his eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. He suddenly stood up and ran out of the compound.

"Glorfindel!" Sador yelled, jumping up as well, but Arafinwë reached over and grabbed the ellon before he was able to run after his brother.

"No, hinya," the Noldóran said, pulling Sador down so he was sitting on the ground between him and Olwë. The King of Alqualondë brushed a comforting hand through the ellon’s hair as Arafinwë continued speaking. "He needs to deal with this on his own. Let him go."

Sador reluctantly nodded and collapsed onto the ground, allowing the two kings to comfort him. Satisfied that his ward would not run off, Arafinwë turned to Ingwion with a wide grin. "So what’s this I hear about you becoming Lord Námo’s apprentice, Cousin? How did that come about?"

Ingwion gave Arafinwë a sour look but a nearly imperceptible nod of approval told a different story and he was willing to be the object of interest so that Sador and the others would be distracted from their worries about Glorfindel. "Well, as to that, Cousin, it seems that Lord Námo lost a bet and..."

He was looking at the fire as he spoke and so did not notice several eyebrows going up in surprise at his words.

****

Glorfindel ran, ignoring the stares from those whom he passed, until he was outside the encampment and found himself some distance away where there were trees. If he noticed the Sinda and Nando sitting in one of the trees keeping watch, he gave no sign, nor did the guards bother to greet him. He stood there for several minutes staring at nothing and then he began to strip off his tunic and boots.

"Manveru, Erunáro," he said without raising his voice and the two elves in the tree almost fell out of it in shock when the two Maiar suddenly appeared. Manveru gave Glorfindel a shrewd look.

"Do you want to talk, sword-brother?" he asked quietly.

Glorfindel shook his head. "No, I do not," he replied and then without warning launched himself at Erunáro, who deftly grabbed him and held him off with a single hand.

"Now, now, sword-brother," the Maia said conversationally, "is that anyway to act?" Then, without taking his eyes off the straining ellon, he called out, "Eönwë!"

Now the Herald of Manwë appeared, looking amused. Erunáro gave his fellow Maia a grin. "Our sword-brother isn’t in the mood for talking. Would you like to help us put him in the mood?"

Eönwë raised an eyebrow and gave them a short bow. "I am honored," he said with all sincerity, then glanced up into the tree and smiled at the two elves sitting there with their mouths hanging open. "But let us remove ourselves to a more private venue."

With that, Manveru reached over and took Glorfindel in his arms. All three Maiar disappeared with Glorfindel in hand, leaving two very confused and befuddled wood elves clinging to the tree in shock, both of them wondering if it really had been a good idea to have forsaken Ennorath for the Blessed Realm after all.

****

Glorfindel was only dimly aware of the fact that they were no longer in the plains before the city of Vanyamar. Instead, they seemed to be high in the mountains. He was furious and kept trying to get out of Manveru’s embrace, but to no avail. Then, the Maia simply dumped him on the ground and he landed in snow. That brought him up short and he stopped ranting long enough to see where he was. He glanced at the three Maiar standing around him looking at him with faint amusement on their faces.

"Where are we?" he asked with some trepidation.

"In the mountains, of course," Eönwë answered, "though not on Taniquetil," he hastened to add when he saw Glorfindel go absolutely white. "We will not push it that far, son of Gondolin. Now, I understand you’re not in the mood to talk?"

Glorfindel stood up slowly and shook his head, looking wary. Eönwë grinned. "Good, because neither am I." With that the Maia deftly picked Glorfindel up and threw him to the ground again, landing on top of the elf and wrestling with him. Glorfindel gave an inarticulate cry and started fighting back, uttering an oath as he did so.

Eönwë glanced up at Manveru with a wicked smile. "Remind me to record that in the Book of Oaths when I get a chance."

Manveru grinned back and nodded, then he and Erunáro joined the fray and the three Maiar happily began beating Glorfindel to a pulp. Glorfindel did not give up, not even when the Maiar offered to stop.

"Do you want to talk now?" Manveru asked him at one point and Glorfindel merely snarled a vicious oath at him. At that point, Eönwë called out a name.

"Maranwë!"

Glorfindel then saw another Maia appear, one he recognized as belonging to Lord Námo’s People, giving his fellow Maiar an enquiring look.

"Glorfindel doesn’t want to talk," Eönwë stated. "We’re trying to convince him that talking would be good for his health."

"Not to mention his looks," Erunáro quipped and Maranwë had to suppress a smile at the sight of Glorfindel’s physical state with his two black eyes, a bloody lip and bruises all over as he stood there reeling.

"Care to join us?" Manveru asked diffidently, though he had a wide grin on his face.

"Thought you’d never ask," Maranwë answered and before Glorfindel could respond he found himself wrestling with four Maiar, none of whom gave him any quarter, nor did he ask for it....

****

Ingwion was finishing describing the oath-taking ceremony with Námo when a rumbling sound and flashes of lightning crossing the sky to the north interrupted him. They all looked up in surprise, for the late afternoon sky was clear and the clouds were high and thin. They stood to get a better view of the lightning flashing in the far distance over the Pelóri Mountains. Finrod turned to his atar with a grin.

"Do you think that has anything to do with Glorfindel?"

Arafinwë gave a short laugh. "Of that, hinya, I have no doubt," he said.

Finrod nodded then turned to Alassiel and Vorondil. "Alassiel, Vorondil, stop what you’re doing and come join us by the fire. Vorondil, bring out another bottle of the Lórien White."

His squire and thrall did as they were bid, though Alassiel was somewhat reluctant. Vorondil, on the other hand, was happy enough to be able to join the adults. Finrod had them sit on either side of him. When they were all seated and sipping on the yellow wine, Finrod turned to Ingwion with a smile. "So let me tell you about how Alassiel and Vorondil came to be such good friends...."

They all did their best to ignore the lightning in the distance as they listened to Finrod speaking, but every once in a while one or the other of them found their attention straying from the narrative to watch as the lightning continued and wondered what it might have to do with Glorfindel.

****

"So, are you ready to talk now?" Maranwë asked for the fourth time, staring dispassionately down at the nearly unconscious Glorfindel who simply lay there in the churned up snow trying to catch his breath.

Glorfindel could only nod and the four Maiar then sat down a few feet away on a rock shelf that was clear of snow and waited. Manveru called forth his sword and began polishing it while his brother and Maranwë spoke quietly about the latest rumors out of Endórë. Eönwë sat with the Book of Oaths open upon his knees calmly recording every oath Glorfindel had uttered during their little free-for-all.

"Is ‘May the Valar drop dead and the Maiar, too’ one oath or two, do you think?" Eönwë asked at one point. The other three Maiar looked up and gave him shrugs. Eönwë nodded and went back to writing, cheerfully humming as he did so.

Glorfindel, meanwhile, began to stir and the Maiar went still, watching to see what he would do. The ellon was a sight, looking worse than when Tulcaner and his fellows had set upon him. The four Maiar kept their expressions neutral, but their eyes betrayed their amusement and admiration for the stubborn Elda. Glorfindel started crawling towards them, too dizzy to stand. He practically had to climb the shelf and collapsed nearly into Maranwë’s lap. Námo’s chief Maia brought forth a flask of water and helped the ellon drink, then cleaned the cuts with the remaining water, soothing some of the pain. Glorfindel fell asleep for a time as his hröa and fëa rested but after about twenty minutes he came awake again and attempted to sit up, though he found he had to lean against Maranwë, for his head kept spinning otherwise.

"Wh-why is everything so... confusing?" he finally whispered. "I don’t remember it being so confusing... before."

Maranwë smiled gently and brushed a hand through Glorfindel’s hair. "It’s no less confusing than before, child," he answered. "The difference is you spent centuries maturing into adulthood under the Light of the Trees. You knew nothing of strife or sorrow or disappointment, except in very minor circumstances. Now, however, you know what such things truly mean for you have experienced them in full bitterness."

"You’ve been trying to grow up faster than you should, sword-brother," Manveru added. "I’ve seen you try to catch up with Findaráto in that respect."

"I want to have a purpose," Glorfindel stated bleakly. "Finrod is Lord Irmo and Lord Námo’s apprentice. Sador is Netilmirë’s apprentice. Why can’t I be an apprentice, too?"

Maranwë gave Glorfindel a hug and kissed him on the top of his head. "What makes you think you’re not?"

Glorfindel looked up at the Maia in surprise, but then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean? No one’s asked me to be their apprentice. No one’s said anything..."

"Hush now, child," Manveru admonished him gently. "Can you not be content to simply be... Glorfindel? Not the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, not the Balrog-slayer, not even this person or that person’s apprentice, but simply be yourself? Take time to be yourself, child, and all else will flow from that."

"But Finrod and Sador..."

"Glorfindel," Maranwë interrupted him. "Finrod was released from Mandos a century or so before you. He has had decades to mature to the point where the Fëanturi were willing to offer him an apprenticeship. You’ve been re-embodied for less than four years. Give it time. And Sador’s case is somewhat different," he added, "though I will not discuss it with you."

Glorfindel’s expression darkened into a scowl of dissatisfaction.

Erunáro gave him a diffident look. "I don’t know what you’re complaining about, sword-brother. You’ve been the jewel-smith’s apprentice these last few weeks. What more do you want?"

Glorfindel stared at the Maia with an appalled look that swiftly turned to anger. He jumped up, snarling an oath, and started walking away... or rather limping. The Maiar let him go. Eönwë sighed and opened the Book of Oaths again and started writing in it.

Glorfindel did not get too far. His body ached and he still felt dizzy. He went no more than twenty or so paces before he collapsed in the snow. Maranwë gave his fellow Maiar a glance before stepping off the rock shelf and going to the elf. He crouched down next to the ellon who merely stared out into the distance, his expression bleak. The Maia brushed a hand through Glorfindel’s hair. "Do you want to talk about it now?" he asked gently.

For a moment Glorfindel did not move, then he sighed and gave the Maia a nod. Without preamble he began to speak... and the Maiar listened.

****

Laurendil and Manwen were sitting around the dining room table in Finrod’s pavilion with the others enjoying a glass of wine when Glorfindel showed up. Alassiel and Vorondil had served them all dinner earlier and were still busy cleaning up the dishes. Laurendil and Manwen had spent the better part of the day organizing the healers for the tournament and were now filling everyone in on what had been accomplished. They all gasped when Glorfindel stumbled into the pavilion wearing only his breeches and shirt, his face a mass of bruises.

"Valar!" Finrod cried as he rushed to his brother. "What did they do to you?"

Manwen and Laurendil were right beside him, looking concerned. Glorfindel ignored them, pushing past them to stand before Arafinwë and Olwë, their expressions unreadable to the others. For a moment Glorfindel simply stood there reeling slightly, saying nothing, then, he swallowed visibly before speaking.

"I ... I withdraw m-my challenge," he whispered.

Olwë caught him before he reached the ground.