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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

121: Fateful Memories

Since only the parma-list warriors would be fighting, the tinco-list fighters took their ease. Glorfindel joined Aldarion and Mithlas near the royal gallery as Finrod and Ingwion would be fighting in the front lists. When the royals returned from the city, the Valar appeared as well. Before sitting down, Ingwë walked over to the edge of the viewing stand and called out to Glorfindel, who rose and gave the High King a bow. Ingwë gestured for him to approach, which he did.

"I want to congratulate you on your win, Glorfindel," Ingwë said quietly.

"Thank you, Sire," Glorfindel said, giving the High King another bow, "but it is only the first match and there are no guarantees."

"No, there are not," Ingwë agreed. "Still, I think you did very well." He paused for a moment. "I do hope, though, that before the end we actually see you fighting."

At first Glorfindel was unsure what Ingwë meant, and then he blushed and looked down. "So do I," he murmured and had the pleasure of hearing Ingwë laugh.

"Then we understand one another," Ingwë said and, with a nod, returned to his seat, effectively dismissing the ellon. Glorfindel returned to his seat beside Aldarion and Mithlas, each of whom gave him a considering look.

"What did he mean about seeing you fight?" Mithlas asked, looking confused.

Glorfindel just shook his head and did not answer. Mithlas gave Aldarion a look and the Vanya shrugged.

Just then, Eönwë appeared, announcing the start of the afternoon’s round of fighting. The second round had been delayed for an hour to give Vëantur sufficient time to recover. He now stood beside Ingwion where the other fighters were waiting to enter the lists. Ingwion was speaking to him softly. Glorfindel could see Vëantur shake his head and smile and the two ellyn clasped hands.

"Looks as if Vëantur is going to compete," he said to the other two warriors.

Aldarion nodded. "I’m glad. I was afraid that he would be unable to compete and then Prince Ingwion would also be disqualified."

Mithlas looked chagrined. "I didn’t mean to hit him so hard," he said. "I saw the opening and just went in."

Glorfindel put an arm around the Sinda and gave him a brief hug. "Do not be concerned, mellon nîn, all is well. Vëantur is lucky that it was you who hit him."

Mithlas gave him a surprised look. "Why do you say that?"

Glorfindel put on a virtuous air. "Everyone knows that the Sindar are not the strongest fighters. Now if it had been a Noldo..."

He didn’t get any further as Mithlas, quite forgetting where he was and who Glorfindel was, began beating up on him, though he was laughing as he did so. "Weak, are we?" he cried as Glorfindel attempted to evade him. "I’ll show you weak." He then changed tactics and started tickling the ellon and Aldarion joined in. Glorfindel started shrieking and those around them gave the three ellyn dirty looks, which quickly changed to looks of respect when Eönwë suddenly appeared before them.

"When you are quite finished, children," the Maia said with a smile.

Immediately Mithlas and Aldarion stopped their tickling, muttering apologies. Glorfindel attempted to catch both his breath and his dignity, not quite succeeding with either. He was gasping and looking a bit white.

"Are you well, sword-brother?" Eönwë asked with concern.

Glorfindel could only shake his head. Mithlas looked alarmed and Aldarion scowled, turning to someone and quickly asking for water. Almost at the same time, Námo showed up, which really gave everyone nearby pause. Mithlas and Aldarion attempted to move away from the Lord of Mandos without seeming to do so. Námo ignored them, his attention on Glorfindel.

"Look at me, Glorfindel," the Vala demanded softly, yet his tone brooked no denial and Glorfindel complied, fear in his eyes.

"What are you remembering?" Námo asked, but Glorfindel just shook his head, whimpering. Námo reached over and placed a hand on the ellon’s brow. "What are you remembering, child?" he asked again, gently.

Glorfindel looked at him with pain in his eyes. "Th-the Nirnaeth..." he whispered in Sindarin. "Hu-húrin and... and the retreat."

Mithlas and some of the Noldor and Sindar who were in the stands all gasped. The others, like Aldarion, being Vanyar, had puzzled looks on their faces. They did not understand what Glorfindel had said but they saw Eönwë and Lord Námo’s expressions darken to something too terrible to behold and many had to look away. Námo ran a gentle hand through Glorfindel’s braids.

"Look at me, child," he said, for Glorfindel’s eyes had unfocused, seeing something that none else could see. Slowly he complied. Námo, meanwhile, knelt before him. "It’s over with, child. It’s in the past. Let it go. Whatever you feel is just a memory of the pain. It isn’t real."

Glorfindel nodded, and attempted to take a deep breath. Aldarion handed him a goblet of water, which he drank thirstily. "Wh-why now?" he stammered as he finished drinking.

Námo shook his head. "I do not know, child. There is no rhyme or reason for when your memories will return." He continued to stroke the ellon’s hair. Aldarion and Mithlas took turns rubbing Glorfindel’s back. Slowly his color returned and he was breathing more normally.

By now the other spectators were giving the Reborn elf more considerate looks as the situation became clearer to them. One of the elves, a Vanyarin lord by his dress, gave Námo a puzzled look.

"He was remembering something?" the elf asked.

Námo nodded. "A memory of a terrible battle. The elves were forced to retreat, leaving the mortals who were their allies to cover them. Only one of the mortals survived."

The elf raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "That’s all right then. I’ve often wondered what use these mortals I keep hearing about really were."

Before anyone could respond, Glorfindel was on the hapless ellon in a towering rage. Námo deftly grabbed him before he could do the elf any harm and held him close, giving him a shake. "Behave!" he said quietly but with authority and surprisingly the ellon stopped his thrashing and snarling.

No one else moved, too shocked to do more than gape. Námo turned his gaze upon the Vanyarin lord and his expression was terrible to behold. Eönwë’s own expression was just as cold and unforgiving. The elves all began to feel faint under the regard of the Lord of Mandos and the Herald of Manwë. Neither spoke. Instead, there was movement from behind and then Manwë, followed by the three kings, joined them. Everyone stood in their presence.

The Elder King’s expression was mild but his tone when he spoke was icy. "Children," was all he said, yet that single word made every elf within hearing blush and look embarrassed. Manwë continued to stare at them for a moment or two longer before turning to Eönwë. "I do believe there is a tournament that needs seeing to."

Eönwë bowed and strode away. Námo put Glorfindel down and the ellon looked suitably chastened.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze.

Manwë nodded, casting him a sympathetic look. "Your actions, while deplorable, are nonetheless understandable." The Elder King sighed. "I regret that you’ve had to experience another disturbing memory at this time, child."

Glorfindel shrugged, still not looking at anyone directly.

"Súlimondil," Ingwë then said, addressing the Vanyarin lord who had started everything. "We will speak later of this. You may come to my study this evening an hour after dinner." Ingwë’s voice was nearly as cold as Manwë’s had been. Súlimondil pressed his lips together, his expression sour, giving the High King a bow.

Manwë nodded. "I think we will get back to the tournament then. It is after all why we are here." He smiled but none of the elves were fooled. "Aldarion, Mithlas," Manwë then said, "take Glorfindel to the healers’ tent. He can do with a rest."

The two elves bowed and without a word took the still quiet Glorfindel by the elbows and steered him towards the tent. Vorondil was there, looking wide-eyed, having witnessed everything. As soon as he saw the elves bringing Glorfindel he ran into the tent to ready a cot. Námo gave Manwë a wry look and followed them. With another mild look at the subdued elves, Manwë and the kings returned to the viewing gallery even as Eönwë began to announce the afternoon’s matches.

As soon as he had seen Námo appear before Glorfindel, Finrod had been all set to go over to see what was happening, but Eönwë forestalled him with a single silent command. Now he gave the Elder King’s Herald a questioning look as the Maia returned to the center of the list. Eönwë gave the prince a nod and Finrod nodded in turn, then addressed the other warriors.

"Let’s do this," he said and the others gave a shout of approval as they marched out onto the field to take up their positions.

****

As Arafinwë took his seat, Eärwen put a hand on his arm, looking concerned. "How is Glorfindel?"

"He remembered something from... before," Arafinwë answered with a shake of his head. "It was not pleasant."

Eärwen sighed. "Poor child. Much like Findaráto when he first came back to us."

The Noldóran nodded. "Except this time we’re better prepared to help him." He sighed, his expression rueful. "When I think back to how I treated our son..."

"How we treated him," Eärwen corrected him and Arafinwë nodded in agreement.

Manwë then entered the conversation. "Do not be too hard on yourselves, my children. You have done very well by Findaráto, by all three ellyn. We are quite pleased with how far they’ve come under your loving guidance."

They both bowed their heads to Manwë in acknowledgment of his words. The Elder King smiled. "Now why don’t we concentrate on enjoying the afternoon matches."

They turned their attention to the lists. Aldundil and Region, they saw, were fighting in the list behind Finrod and Calmacil, while Valacar and Hallas were in the list behind Ingwion and Vëantur. None of the matches were expected to last long and indeed the crowd was thinner than it had been that morning as many of the Vanyar from the city decided that the afternoon’s fighting would not prove very interesting.

Ingwë glanced to his right and saw Alassiel and Sador sitting with the five elflings between them. They were seated at one end of the first row and had an excellent view of Finrod’s match. From what he could see the children appeared to be doing well and he had no worries about them under Findaráto’s care. He smiled as he watched Eruanna hide her eyes every time Calmacil landed a blow on Findaráto’s shield and noticed how Sador gently took young Veryandur into his lap. The child looked somewhat distraught and Sador was obviously trying to comfort him.

****

Sador watched his brother fight with great interest. He himself would never pick up a sword again, but he respected the warriors who had sought to protect their people. Finrod appeared confident and competent, as was Calmacil. When Finrod scored the first point, hitting the other on his right shoulder, Sador turned to Alassiel with a grin and was surprised to see the elleth was not even paying attention to Finrod’s match. Instead, her gaze was fixed on Region, watching every move the elleth made and muttering comments under her breath. Sador shook his head in amusement and turned his attention back to Finrod and Calmacil.

The two ellyn came at each other with furious abandon. Sador gave the elflings a glance, noticing that Eruanna had her hands in front of her eyes, while the three older children were just sitting there with their mouths open. Veryandur, however, was clutching his stuffed toy as if it were a lifeline, his eyes white with fear. Sador reached over and gently took the ellon into his lap to comfort him, looking down at the child with a smile and giving him a hug.

"It’s all right, child," he whispered soothingly. "Do not be afraid for Findaráto." Then he looked up to watch the fight and everything changed.....

He was back in Doriath on that fateful day. He was playing with a ball in one of the courtyards with his friends when chaos erupted. People started screaming... and dying. Sador glanced at the elflings cowering beside him.

"We cannot linger," he whispered and, picking up the youngest ellon, he began to run....

.... right into Námo’s embrace with Veryandur still in his arms screaming. Sador looked at the Lord of Mandos confusedly, not sure what had happened. Námo gently took the child from him and with a single word stilled Veryandur’s screams. Sador only realized that Alassiel was there beside him when Námo handed her the now quiescent child. Without another word the Vala gently took Sador by the arm and led him towards the healers’ tent. Sador found he didn’t have the strength to resist. It was only when Námo pushed him onto a cot while one of the healers pulled off his boots for him that he came out of his stupor.

"But I wanted to see Finrod fight," he protested weakly even as he allowed them to cover him with a blanket.

Námo shook his head. "There will be other opportunities, Sador, for Finrod won his match."

"B-but I didn’t see..."

"Hush now, child," Námo said gently, "do not fret so. All is well."

The Lord of Mandos then began humming an ancient lullaby and in spite of himself Sador drifted off to sleep. Námo silently summoned Maranwë who, along with Tindomerel, was acting as his attendant. The Maia appeared and gave his lord a bow.

"Keep an eye on him for me," Námo said, then strode out of the tent without another word, looking pensive. He stopped where Alassiel, now joined by Eärwen and Elindis, were comforting the children. Finrod was there as well, kneeling before the elflings and speaking to them in soft tones. The children looked calmer and Veryandur even smiled at something the prince was saying. As Námo approached, Finrod stood up and gave the Vala a questioning look.

"Doriath," was all the Lord of Mandos said and Finrod hissed in surprise. He started to head towards the tent but Námo forestalled him. "He’s sleeping now. Let him rest."

Even as the Vala was speaking to Finrod he was holding another conversation with Manwë, indeed with all the Valar. To the elves, it appeared as if none of the Valar had moved, yet they met together in the tenth spatial dimension, a dimension where the landscape was eerily similar to the one in which they inhabited. The Valar met on an open plain under a brilliant blue sky. Manwë addressed them all.

"First Glorfindel and now Sador within a space of a few minutes. That cannot be coincidental."

Námo shook his head. "I think the fighting is triggering memories."

"Glorfindel did not suffer a similar episode at the solstice tournament," Ulmo pointed out.

"I have no answers, brother," Námo admitted. "Each Reborn is a separate case. No two are the same, though their experiences are similar in scope."

"What about the other Reborn who are fighting?" Estë asked.

"Findaráto does not seem to be affected... yet," Námo said, "but that may be due to the fact that he has grown beyond all that. His memories are nearly intact, and the few that are missing are inconsequential. Haldir, on the other hand, is still quite... young emotionally, younger even than Glorfindel. He may suffer as well, but there is no way to predict when or if it will happen."

"Are there any other Reborn who may be affected by the fighting simply by witnessing it as Sador did?" Manwë asked.

Námo nodded, sending a part of himself back along the space-time continuum to the morning’s event, quickly scanning for all the Reborn who were there, for he knew each intimately by name, then he checked them against those who were attending the afternoon’s round. It did not take long even by Valarin measurements. "Fifty all told, from this morning and this afternoon. I’ve alerted my people and there will be a Maia standing watch over each of them until the tournament’s end, and maybe even afterwards in case of delayed reactions."

Manwë nodded. "That is well then. I admit I did not foresee the possibility of a tournament being a source of trouble where the Reborn are concerned."

"Nor I," Námo admitted ruefully. "This will not make it easier for the other elves to be accepting of them."

The Elder King nodded. "Unfortunately, I fear you are correct, my son." He gave them all a wry look. "I have sometimes wondered if we did the right thing bringing the Firstborn to Aman. They seem no end of trouble."

Most of the other Valar snorted in amusement and Aulë spoke up. "Just as well. If they weren’t so troublesome they wouldn’t be half as interesting."

"Or amusing," Varda added with a small smile. "They are the closest thing to offspring we will ever have. They are often annoying but in the long run they’ve been good for us. We were getting a bit... bored."

"You mean, boring," Vairë retorted with a laugh and the others joined her.

Manwë ended the meeting and they all returned to the tournament. The entire conversation had taken place between one blink of the eye and the next.

"... I’ll look in on him later then," Finrod was saying, never realizing that the Vala who nodded his acceptance of the ellon’s words had not been fully there for a brief second.





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