111: Tea With Balrogs... er... Sugar

They were putting Glorfindel to bed after Manwen and Laurendil saw to his hurts when Lady Estë appeared, much to everyone’s surprise. She gave them a beatific smile as she passed her hand over Glorfindel’s supine body.

“We don’t want him to appear before Ingwë’s Court looking like this,” she said, indicating the purpling bruises and cut lips. Laurendil and Manwen watched while Vorondil stood beside the Valië as she healed Glorfindel, shyly asking questions. The others decided to leave the healers to it and went back to their wine, speculating as to what might have happened with Glorfindel, but came to no ready conclusions.

When he awoke late the next morning, Glorfindel was surprised to find that he was no longer in pain and, looking in a mirror, he saw that the bruises were nearly gone and his face looked almost normal.

“Lady Estë assured us that you will be completely healed before tonight’s ceremony,” Finrod told him as he watched the ellon get dressed.

Glorfindel nodded but did not offer any other comment nor would he speak of what had happened the day before. Instead, he insisted on getting in some practice with sword and bow, for the tournament would be starting in two days. A preliminary list showed that he was fighting against one of the Vanyar during the first round of the double elimination duels. Glorfindel was not concerned about the outcome of the match, but he refused to be complacent about his own abilities. Finrod agreed and with Alassiel and Vorondil in tow the two ellyn made their way to the lists that were set up in a field that lay between the tent city and Vanyamar. Workers were putting the finishing touches to the royal viewing gallery while heralds ran about looking slightly bemused. Others who were competing were also there, having the same idea as Glorfindel and Finrod. The two ellyn were greeted joyfully by the other elves and soon they were all busy sparring.

By mutual consent, Finrod and Glorfindel declined to spar against each other, much to everyone else’s disappointment. Instead, Finrod ended up sparring with Vëantur while Glorfindel took on Aldarion. Even Alassiel was encouraged to spar when Finrod explained her status as his squire. No one looked askance at the revelation for there were some ellith competing and Alassiel was paired with one of them. Vorondil sat on the sidelines looking wistful, then, after a while, bored. Finrod noticed and smiled fondly at the ellon.

“Vorondil,” he said, “go to the healer’s tent and tell them I wish for you to bring a full kit to the list. We’ll let you practice tending to injuries after we’ve finished sparring.”

Vorondil’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Master,” he said with a grin and ran off as fast as he could to do Finrod’s bidding. Finrod gave the others a wicked look. “So, who’s volunteering to have a broken leg?”

They all snorted at that but did not protest, taking turns ‘volunteering’ one another for one kind of injury or another in a good-natured way even as they continued to spar. By the time Vorondil appeared again, dragging a medical kit and Manwen with him, the fighters had all agreed as to what injuries they would suffer so Vorondil could practice on them.

****

Finrod was sitting under a nearby tree with some of the other fighters, patiently letting Vorondil splint his “broken” shield arm while nibbling on some cheese and fruit and talking quietly to Glorfindel and Manwen. The apprentice Estendurien had been working in the healers’ tent when Vorondil had run in all excited. It had taken her a few minutes to calm him down long enough to figure out what he was babbling about. Once she understood what he wanted, though, she helped him to gather the necessary supplies and even offered to come and act as his assistant.

Thus, it was that when a small group of riders came up from the south towards Vanyamar, they found several half armored ellyn and ellith lying about with various kinds of bandages on them. None of them looked particularly upset by their injuries, though, and one or two were even comparing “injuries” and checking their splints with a clinical eye. Vorondil was actually humming to himself as he wrapped the bandages around Finrod’s arm, much to his master’s amusement.

When one of the riders recognized Finrod, though, she became quite upset. Leaping from her horse, Amarië ran to her betrothed. The other riders followed more sedately.

“Findaráto!” she shouted, surprising everyone there. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Finrod looked up to see Amarië running towards him and started to stand, but Vorondil pushed him down, frowning, and actually pointed a finger at him. “Don’t move, Master, I’m not finished.”

Glorfindel, who was sitting nearby sporting a wrapped head, laughed out loud and others joined him at the imperious “healer’s” look the elfling had given the King of Nargothrond.

“I think you’ve created a monster, brother,” Glorfindel said even as Amarië reached them, looking both alarmed and confused. The riders came up right behind her and Finrod’s expression brightened at the sight of his amillë and anamillë dismounting to join Amarië. Eärwen and Lirillë smiled fondly at him and cast amused looks at Vorondil happily wrapping the splint on Finrod’s arm. Everyone else in the meantime had risen to give the Noldotári and the Queen of the Teleri their obeisance, which they acknowledged with gracious nods of their heads.

Finrod turned his attention to Amarië and gave her a brilliant smile. “Peace, meldanya,” he said, gesturing with his other hand for her to join him under the tree. “I am well. We all are. We’re just letting Vorondil practice his... er... bedside manners.” He glanced at his thrall and gave him a look that Laurendil, had he been there, would have recognized as his “the-king-is-not-happy” look. Vorondil merely stuck his tongue out and went back to work. Finrod threw back his head and laughed.

Amarië looked about in bemusement, noticing the amused expressions on the others’ faces and felt her mouth quirk into a small smile. “I see. Well, in that case, I suppose I should leave you all to suffer your injuries in peace.” Several elves snickered at that. “When you are finished playing... um.... healer’s victim, beloved, perhaps you will join me and Amillë Eärwen in the city for tea.”

Finrod looked up at Eärwen standing there serenely and nodded. Amarië leaned over and gave Finrod a chaste kiss which he returned. “I will join you as soon as I am free,” Finrod said with a wink.

“My lady,” Vorondil suddenly said with an exasperated sigh, “please move. You’re blocking my light!”

There were chuckles all around as Amarië gave the elfling a disbelieving look. Manwen simply rolled her eyes. Eärwen leaned over and kissed the top of Finrod’s head, brushing his locks and whispering something in her son’s ear, before stepping away. Finrod gave his amillë a wicked grin and a wink. Suddenly he grabbed Vorondil, ignoring the splint on his arm, and began tickling him, eliciting shrieks of laughter from the ellon. Glorfindel then joined him in tickling the elfling and there were amused grins all around. When they eventually calmed down, Finrod declared that the “break time” was over. Immediately, everyone began unwrapping their bandages, much to Vorondil’s disappointment and disgust.

“But I wanted to show Laurendil,” he complained as Finrod and the others began handing him back neatly wrapped bindings. Finrod gave him a warm smile.

“I’m sure Manwen will let him know how well you did. Now, I need you to go with Alassiel and see to dinner arrangements. We’re entertaining the High King and Queen this evening before the ceremonies and I want the dinner to be extra special. Think you can manage that?”

Vorondil suddenly looked concerned. “Th-the High King?” he squeaked. “Wh-what does a high king eat?”

Glorfindel smirked as he joined Finrod and gave Vorondil a grin. “I have it on the best authority that Ingwë will eat anything that isn’t nailed down, so don’t worry about it. He’ll eat whatever we give him, just ask Alassiel.”

Vorondil glanced at Alassiel who was sporting her own bandages, though these were for real. She had accidently tripped during a sparring match and sprained her left wrist when she fell on her shield. Manwen had handled that case as Alassiel had been too hysterical with shame and anger to let anyone else tend to her injuries. Finrod and Glorfindel had had to hold her down, the two of them softly singing Lord Námo’s lullaby to calm her.

Eventually she had quieted down enough to start apologizing to Finrod for ruining everything, but Finrod had just laughed, giving her a kiss on the brow and telling her about the time he managed to trip during a sortie against some orcs, breaking his leg, and how he had had to hop on one foot all the way back to where his men were defending the treeline. He had everyone laughing hysterically by the time he finished describing his mad dash to safety, fighting off orcs on one foot.

“You made that up!” Alassiel had gasped between bouts of laughter, but Finrod had merely shook his head.

“Just ask Laurendil,” he had said with a teasing smile. “He was there.”

Now, however, Alassiel, still feeling somewhat subdued over her accident, smiled gamely at Vorondil and nodded. “Yes, my uncle will eat whatever is placed before him. Come, I cannot help with the preparations with my wrist in a sling but I can help you select the dishes.”

Vorondil looked mollified at that and with a nod and a bow to Finrod, the two of them made their way back to the encampment, leaving Amarië looking thoughtfully at the other elleth’s retreating figure. She then returned her attention to Finrod, giving him an enquiring look.

Finrod merely smiled. “It’s a long story, beloved,” he said. “My cousin and I have a certain... arrangement at the moment. I will explain it all over tea.”

Amarië frowned slightly, not too pleased with Finrod’s explanation but knew it was neither the time nor the place to pursue the subject. She nodded and went to her horse. “Tea, then,” she said. “Don’t be late...and bring your brothers.”

Finrod merely smiled and went to kiss his amillë and anamillë. Eärwen smiled at her firstborn before nodding to the rest of the riders and then Finrod helped the two queens to horse. Soon, the warriors were alone again. Finrod and Glorfindel bade the others farewell and made their way back to their tent where they washed up and changed into fresh tunics. Sador, who had been speaking with the heralds while his brothers sparred now joined them and soon the three of them were making their way to the city.

****

The three ellyn followed a page through the corridors of the palace. Finrod was surprised when they had been informed that the tea would not be held in the Noldóran’s apartments, but in the apartments of Lady Amarië’s parents who were high officials in Ingwë’s government. Lord Castamir worked on the Judiciary and Lady Almáriel was a member of the High King’s Privy Council. Finrod remembered that he liked Lord Castamir, who was easy-going and more interested in reading and writing poetry than in politics, while his feelings towards Amarië’s amillë were more ambivalent. Lady Almáriel, as he recalled, was rather strong-willed and opinionated and no doubt had been saving up her thoughts about him deserting her daughter during the long centuries of separation. He suddenly was not looking forward to the tea.

Glorfindel gave Finrod a shrewd look when he noticed he was grimacing as they walked behind the page. “It can’t be that bad... can it?” he asked, feeling a bit unsure.

Finrod gave him a wicked grin. “Lady Almáriel is... very forthright.”

Sador chuckled. “I think Finrod means that he’s not looking forward to being told off for leaving Amarië behind.”

Finrod sighed dramatically. “That too.”

“You’re afraid of her, aren’t you?” Glorfindel asked, suddenly divining Finrod’s reluctance. A look of glee at his brother’s expense spread across Glorfindel’s face and Sador snickered.

Before Finrod could do more than glower at the other two they were there. The page knocked on the doors to the apartment and then opened them at the command from the other side. She gave a bow as she announced them.

“Prince Findaráto, and Lords Glorfindel and Sador, my lady,” the elleth said, then she moved aside to allow the ellyn entrance before stepping back to close the doors behind them.

If they were expecting to be greeted by an irate matron, they were disappointed (or relieved). Amarië stood there, looking radiant in a gown of summer green figured silk, her eyes dancing with joy... and something else that Finrod could not quite put a name to, until she began speaking.

“It’s so good of you to come, my lords,” she said, sounding somewhat breathless. “Amillë will be out presently.” She cast a look in the direction of the inner apartments and her eyes darkened with desperation.

Finrod smiled in understanding and took his betrothed into his embrace, giving her a kiss and whispering in her ear as he did so. “Fear not, my love! I am here now.” He felt the elleth sag with relief. Then he stepped back and said more loudly, “Thank you, my lady, for your gracious invitation. Will my amillë be joining us?”

“Oh, yes,” Amarië replied, her voice brittle with forced cheerfulness as she allowed Glorfindel and Sador to greet her with kisses on the cheek. “Eärwen is helping my amillë at the moment. They won’t be long.”

The expression on her face told them that it wouldn’t be long enough. Glorfindel and Sador exchanged bemused glances; Finrod merely shrugged resignedly. His smile never faltered but his eyes darkened somewhat and had Laurendil been there he would have recognized the look:

Finrod, erstwhile King of Nargothrond, was about to go into battle.

The doors to the inner apartments opened just then, causing Amarië to start slightly. Eärwen and Almáriel came out. Eärwen gave the three ellyn a soft smile of welcome while Almáriel looked upon them with cold disdain. She was tall and imperious as many of the Vanyar seemed to be, her flaxen hair braided and held in a woven net of pearls and emeralds. She was wearing a gown of shimmering green silk shot with rose with close-fitting sleeves. The collar and cuffs were embroidered with vines and leaves in shades of green and gold interspersed with pearls. Over this was a sleeveless robe of dark peacock blue brocaded silk, trimmed with ermine, the sides open to just below the hips.

Eärwen was wearing a gown of muted shades of blue and grey that reminded them of the sea in winter and looked almost dowdy in comparison to Almáriel’s peacock brilliance, yet, to the ellyn standing there, she seemed more beautiful, for a smile lit her face and an inner beauty shone forth that was lacking in Almáriel’s expression.

“I assumed, Findaráto, that you would not be so cowardly as to bring... reinforcements with you,” Almáriel said without preamble as she swept into the room. She barely bowed her head in acknowledgment of his rank and refused to even look at Glorfindel and Sador. “Especially a thrall and... a potter.”

Both Glorfindel and Sador bristled at the elleth’s tone. Sador was angry, but not on his behalf, for in truth he was a potter and proud of it and saw no reason to apologize for the talent which Eru had given him. His anger was for his henair, especially Glorfindel. As far as he was concerned, whatever had happened — and he was still unsure just what that was — it was between Glorfindel and the High King and others had no right to pass judgment.

Glorfindel merely went white and Finrod had to grab his arm to stop him from turning and walking out right then and there. Eärwen and Amarië looked equally affronted but they were wise enough not to interfere. Finrod’s smile never left his face, but his voice was cold, though he remained unfailingly polite.

“They are not reinforcements, Lady Almáriel, they are my brothers. Lord Sador is the Noldóran’s Ward and Lord Glorfindel is, in spite of appearances, still in the High King’s favor... and mine.”

Almáriel merely huffed and offered no apologies. Amarië looked appalled at her amillë’s bad behavior. Eärwen’s expression was unreadable as she came forward and gave all three ellyn a kiss in greeting, lingering the longest with Glorfindel whose own expression was still one of fury. Eärwen stroked the ellon’s unbraided hair and the look of love and acceptance in her eyes helped to bring him back to himself and he smiled somewhat sheepishly at her. Satisfied that he would be well, she turned her attention to Almáriel.

“I think tea would be in order, my dear,” the Noldotári said in a voice that brooked no dissent. That seemed to be the key to breaking the tension that was now palpable between the various parties, for Almáriel nodded and gave the Queen a proper curtsey.

“As you wish, my lady,” she said and gestured for them all to follow her into an enclosed tea garden situated off the main room of the apartments. It was not very large, but it was private. Finrod suddenly realized whose idea it was to have the tea there and raised an enquiring eyebrow at his amillë, who merely smiled beatifically at her firstborn.

Finrod and Amarië sat together around the table that was already laden with the tea. Glorfindel sat on Amarië’s right and Sador on Finrod’s left. Eärwen sat next to Sador with Almáriel flanking her. Glorfindel did not look too pleased to be seated so near the formidable elleth but refused to move even when Amarië whispered the suggestion to him. He shook his head, giving her a feral smile that brought her no comfort.

Almáriel ignored the interplay between her daughter and the Noldo and poured the tea, all the while speaking to Finrod. “I was not pleased to hear you had been released from Mandos, Findaráto, but I certainly expected you to present yourself to Amarië’s atar long before this.”

“For what purpose, lady?” Finrod asked, not bothering to keep either the confusion or the rising annoyance out of his voice.

“Why, to apologize, of course,” Almáriel said in a tone of voice that suggested that Findaráto was being deliberately obtuse. She put the teapot down and picked up the sugar tongs. “One lump or two?”

Finrod raised an eyebrow at the lady’s manner. “None, thank you.”

Sador leaned over to whisper into his brother’s ear even as Almáriel handed Finrod the teacup. “One balrog or two, my lord?”

Finrod nearly dropped the cup. Amarië took it and calmly placed it before him, giving Sador a sour look which the ellon returned with an apologetic shrug. Glorfindel smiled grimly, while Eärwen smothered a laugh. Almáriel, if she even heard the comment, chose to ignore the interplay and continued pouring the tea.

“I told Amarië soon after you... left... that she should return to Vanyamar, but she refused to leave Tirion,” Almáriel continued, sounding both hurt and affronted at her daughter’s lack of good sense. Finrod had the terrible feeling that the lady actually thought that the Rebellion had been staged for the sole purpose of snubbing her and causing her political and social embarrassment.

“I had my reasons, Ammë,” the elleth said quietly and Finrod reached under the table to take her hand and squeeze it in sympathy.

Almáriel snorted. “Reasons that even now are specious. You have been released from Mandos for over a century, my lord, yet you even now dishonor my daughter by refusing to set a date for the wedding.”

“Dishonor Amarië.... or you, lady?” Finrod asked baldly. Both Sador and Glorfindel flinched at his tone, never having an experience of seeing Finrod in this mood.

Almáriel’s eyes flashed. “I’m not the one who’s had to wait over a millennium for you, my lord. I’m not the one who’s had to sit back and allow others to sneer at me and laugh behind my back because my betrothed hides in trees like an elfling. I’m not...”

“Enough, Ammë!” Amarië nearly shouted, looking incensed.

Almáriel gave her daughter a cool stare but otherwise did not apologize, merely sitting back with a satisfied look on her face, as if she had scored a point in some game. Finrod glanced at Eärwen who sat there with hooded eyes and he suddenly had the feeling that more was going on than he knew. He glanced quickly at Glorfindel and Sador and saw by their expressions that they were thinking along the same lines. Sador was looking thoughtful and Glorfindel was merely glowering in a way that brought a thin smile to Finrod’s mouth. He had seen that same glower many times before, just before his brother was about to do something stupid... or brilliant.

He turned his attention back to Almáriel. “How does Lord Castamir feel about all this?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Eärwen and Amarië gave him looks of approval. Castamir, for all his easy-going manner, was a shrewd and canny ellon who brooked no dissent from his benign despotism. Almáriel might act as if she was the one in charge, but Finrod knew it was Castamir who ruled his household. Amáriel grimaced slightly at Finrod’s question.

“Lord Castamir would like to see our daughter properly wed, but will not force the issue,” she replied with obvious reluctance.

“And you, lady?” Glorfindel suddenly asked. “What would you like to see?”

Almáriel gave the ellon a sour look. “Findaráto has had over a century to... reacquaint himself with my daughter. I think it’s high time an announcement was made setting the date for the wedding. An announcement at tomorrow night’s Ball followed by a Midsummer wedding would be most agreeable.”

Before either Finrod or Amarië could offer a protest Glorfindel nodded, smiling at the Vanyarin lady. “I agree,” he said to everyone’s amazement. “My brother has delayed the announcement far too long.”

“I think so, too,” Sador suddenly chimed in, much to Finrod’s disconcertment. Some message passed between his two brothers that Finrod could not catch, but they both looked far too satisfied with themselves for his liking.

Almáriel gave the ellyn a penetrating look but finding no deceit in their expressions inclined her head gracefully. “I am pleased to know that at least some of us here have some sense,” she said somewhat imperiously. Both Amarië and Sador grabbed Finrod’s arms under the table to stop him from rising in indignation. Glorfindel simply gave him an innocent looking smile, though his eyes told a different story. Eärwen decided to intervene at that point.

“Then it is settled,” she said softly, her expression giving nothing away of how she felt about it all. “Findaráto and Amarië will announce their wedding tomorrow night. In the meantime, we will move on to other topics of interest.” Her tone of voice was laced with royal disapproval and Almáriel had the grace to look abashed at the implied reprimand, but she still refused to apologize.

After a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence, Amarië turned to Finrod and asked him about Alassiel. When Finrod explained the circumstances surrounding his cousin, Almáriel tried to object to such an arrangement as being unbecoming of an affianced ellon but Eärwen firmly told her that Findaráto’s behavior was unimpeachable and Almáriel had no cause to be concerned, as her daughter apparently was not.

Amarië nodded. “I do not doubt that Findaráto has conducted himself honorably with his cousin and there is no cause for accusing him of any impropriety. I trust Findaráto.” The smile she gave her beloved was brilliant and full of love.

Finrod returned her smile with one of his own that was no less brilliant and love-filled. He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you, beloved. I hope never to abuse that trust.”

At which point Glorfindel stood and gave them all a short bow. “As much as I am enjoying this little get together, I fear I must depart. There is a ceremony to be gotten through tonight and I must prepare.”

Finrod nodded and rose as well, followed by Sador. “We must go as well. Ingwë is dining with us and I must see that all is in readiness for his arrival.” He turned to Amarië and kissed her hand. “Thank you for the invitation to tea, beloved. I will see you on the morrow.” Then he turned to his amillë and gave her a gentle smile and a kiss on the cheek, whispering in her ear as he did so. “I know you’re up to something, ammë. I don’t think I approve of your deviousness.”

Eärwen gave her son her own kiss and whispered, “Where do you think your atar learned his own brand of deviousness, my son?”

He stepped back, raising his eyebrow at the implication of her words. Eärwen smiled serenely, giving him a brief nod. Collecting himself, he gave his betrothed’s amillë a proper bow. “Lady Almáriel, a pleasure as always.”

The lady in question gave a most unladylike snort of disbelief. “Of that I have my doubts, my lord.”

Glorfindel and Sador gave the ladies their own farewells and Amarië offered to see them to the door. With a promise to breakfast with her in the morning, Finrod followed his brothers out. Only when they were safely beyond the walls of the palace did Finrod stop Glorfindel with a hand on his arm.

“What did you mean by agreeing with Lady Almáriel about Amarië and me announcing our wedding at the Ball tomorrow night?” he asked with more sharpness than he had intended.

“Peace, brother,” Glorfindel said, raising his hands in protest. “Lady Almáriel’s reasoning is actually sound, if misguided. You have had a century or more to mature to the point where you need to either honor your oath to Amarië to marry her or release her so she may pursue her own path to love.”

Finrod shook his head. “She would not allow me to release her, even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

“So I do not see where there is a problem,” Glorfindel said, refusing to back down.

“Midsummer is too soon and Amarië...” Finrod protested lamely, but stopped when he saw the looks of disbelief on both his brothers’ faces.

“That may or may not be true, Finrod,” Sador said with a wicked smile, “but Lady Almáriel didn’t specify on which Midsummer the wedding should be held, only that it should be held at Midsummer.”

For a moment Finrod could only stare at his two brothers in surprise and then as the implications of what they had just said began to sink into his consciousness he grinned and then he laughed, spinning around in an impromptu dance of delight. Soon his brothers joined him. It took a few moments for them to calm down. The guards at the gate remained impassive at the sight of the three ellyn dancing and laughing with abandon for no particular reason they could fathom, though their eyes brightened with amusement.

“Wait until I tell Amarië!” Finrod exclaimed in relief as they continued back to the tent city. Glorfindel gave Sador a smirk and Sador gave him a wink, both very pleased with themselves.

****

Eärwen was admitted into the High King’s study and found Elindis, Olwë, Lirillë and her own beloved spouse with him. Ingwë gave her an enquiring look as she took a seat next to Arafinwë.

“Well?” Ingwë demanded.

“Almáriel was as pleasant as ever,” she said with a straight face and paused while the others responded with guffaws, knowing the lady all too well. When the laughter died down she continued. “They will be making the announcement at the Ball... Almáriel is looking forward to a Midsummer wedding.”

“Oh?” Ingwë asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eärwen nodded. “Glorfindel and Sador both agreed with her,” she said diffidently and was pleased to see them all look nonplused. “Which can only mean they have thought of something to foil Almáriel’s plans in that regard.”

Arafinwë chuckled. “And knowing our elflings, Findaráto will readily agree with them.”

“But do we want them to foil Almáriel’s plans?” Elindis asked gently. “Findaráto and Amarië have been putting this wedding off for far too long. They need to be married. More importantly, Aman needs to see them married.”

Ingwë nodded. “I agree, but it must be on their terms or they may come to resent being forced into something for which neither is entirely ready.”

“Findaráto is only now reaching a level of maturity that will allow him to make such a momentous decision,” Arafinwë said. “I do not want to risk pushing him in a direction he is not ready to go.”

“He has matured remarkably in the short time since the day he and Glorfindel and Sador fell into the audience chamber,” Olwë said with a smile. “It seems having the responsibility of two younger brothers again has helped.”

Arafinwë nodded. “That and the recent events. That is why I do not want to push it, however much we here believe that their wedding is something Aman needs. We’ve waited this long, we can wait a bit longer if necessary.”

“They love each other,” Eärwen said. “That much is obvious, but both have been reluctant to take the next step, each fearing the other will reject them. Almáriel’s insistence and Glorfindel and Sador’s support may be what tips the balance.”

Ingwë nodded, then gave them all a wry look. “Now if we could only figure out what those three are up to.”

They all started laughing in agreement, and while some of them had their guesses, none of them came close to the mark.

****

Noldotári: (Quenya) Queen of the Noldor; modeled after Noldóran, which is attested.

Henair: (Sindarin) Plural of hanar: Brother. It is unclear if Tolkien meant for this word to replace the older 'Noldorin' muindor. Hanar is the cognate of the Quenya háno.