124: Day Two

The next morning dawned cold and cloudy and there was the threat of rain, though it held off. Everyone wore cloaks against the early spring chill and damp, even the Valar, surprisingly. Lord Námo was again in green and his cloak was made of the same dark green material that Lady Vairë had purchased, lined with sheared sable. Glorfindel, when he saw the Vala, started, for he could see that Lord Námo’s cloak was clasped with the owl cloak pin that he had made during his time with Martandur. Glorfindel gave Lady Vairë a strange look which the Valië returned with a slight smile. Námo hid his own smile at the ellon’s expression and pretended not to notice Glorfindel’s discomfort.

The morning matches were between the tinco-list fighters with Glorfindel paired with Ardamírë, Gilvagor with Findegil, Haldir with Aldarion, and Mithlas with Cirion. Except for Glorfindel and Ardamírë, none of the others had even sparred against each other so there was no way to predict the outcomes of their matches. Many speculated that Glorfindel would wipe the ground with Ardamírë and that the Vanya had no chance against the Balrog-slayer.

Glorfindel was well aware of this sentiment. "Ardamírë," he called to the ellon as he entered the fighters’ tent with Finrod. The Vanya looked up from where he was seated as one of the court pages acting as his squire was attaching a greave to Ardamírë’s right calf.

"My Lord Glorfindel," Ardamírë said, giving him a slight head bow and a wry grin. "It looks as if I will soon be joining the exalted ranks of those who have the honor of being defeated by your hand."

Glorfindel stopped, looking nonplused, then scowled. He motioned to the page. "Here, I’ll do that. You may go assist Mithlas." He nodded toward the Sinda who was trying to tie one of his vambraces with his teeth. The page gave Glorfindel a cheeky grin and, with a bow, left. Glorfindel knelt and began attaching the other greave while Finrod looked on. Ardamírë tried to protest.

"My lord, this is unseemly..." he began but Glorfindel just looked up at him with an expression that would have sent many an elf running in the opposite direction. Ardamírë, however, wasn’t in a position to run anywhere and so he just sat there, swallowing nervously.

"What’s unseemly, Ardamírë, is your willingness to give up before you’ve even started," Glorfindel hissed at him. "I may or may not defeat you in this match, but so help me..." he paused and looked around, but not seeing any sign of Manwë’s Herald, turned his attention back to Ardamírë. "So help me, if you don’t fight your very hardest, I will not only wipe the ground with your sorry hröa, I will personally deliver your even sorrier fëa to Lord Námo’s front doorstep and kick you into his Halls for good measure. Do we understand each other?"

Ardamírë stole a glance at Finrod standing beside Glorfindel and saw the Noldorin prince trying not to laugh, then glanced back at Glorfindel whose head was bent as he finished with the last strap of the greave. When Glorfindel looked up Ardamírë nodded mutely and the Balrog-slayer grinned as he stood, giving Ardamírë his hand. The Vanya took it and allowed Glorfindel to help him up. The two ellyn embraced, giving one another a kiss of friendship.

"That’s settled then," Finrod said with a smile. "I will go see how the elflings are faring. Glorfindel, remember, Ingwë wants you to join him in the royal gallery along with Sador."

Glorfindel nodded. "I’ll be there as soon as I finish arming."

Finrod nodded and walked out of the tent. He strolled towards the viewing stands where the elflings were all seated with Alassiel and Sador. Veryandur was looking nervous, clutching his stuffed toy. The other elflings were looking rebellious.

"What’s the problem?" Finrod asked with a frown as he approached.

Sador shrugged and Alassiel rolled her eyes. "They’re jealous of Veryandur because he gets to stand next to the High King," she said.

"I don’t want to stand next to the High King," Veryandur protested, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I w-want to stay here with S-sador and Al-alassiel."

"But Sador has to stand next to the High King, too," Finrod said, crouching down to speak more easily to the ellon. Then he gave Veryandur a conspiratorial wink and lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "I know for a fact that Sador is very nervous about having to stand next to the High King, too. I’m sure he’ll appreciate having you there to keep him company."

The elfling gave Finrod a skeptical look which he transferred to Sador who merely nodded. "High Kings scare me," he said confidentially.

"Why does the baby get to stand next to the High King?" Oromendil protested sourly. "He’s done nothing special."

"Not a baby!" Veryandur retorted hotly, hitting the older ellon with his stuffed toy. Oromendil ducked and started to retaliate but Finrod grabbed his arm and gave him a stern look.

"Oromendil," he commanded quietly. "We do not call each other names, ever. Is that understood?"

Oromendil paled at the reprimand and after a moment’s hesitation, nodded. "Yes," he muttered.

Sador gave the elllon a tap on the back of the head. "Yes, what?" he demanded.

Oromendil grimaced as he looked down at his feet. "Yes... my lord," he said, not looking up.

Finrod nodded, releasing the ellon’s arm, then turned his attention to Veryandur. "And Veryandur... we do not hit each other. Is that understood?"

Veryandur gulped but nodded. "Y-yes, my lord," he whispered, clutching Narmollë to him tightly.

Finrod gave the other elflings a look and, satisfied that they all understood the rules of behavior expected of them, rose smoothly and placed a finger under Oromendil’s chin to make the ellon look at him.

"As for your question," he said. "It has nothing to do with what Veryandur has or has not done. The High King has commanded his and Sador’s presence and that is all the reason that is necessary."

Oromendil nodded and Finrod released him, turning to Sador. "Ingwë should be here momentarily. I think you and Veryandur should head for the gallery now. I’ll stay here with Alassiel."

Sador rose with a nod and Finrod took his place while the Sinda led the still nervous Veryandur towards the gallery, the child clutching his toy for all its worth. A moment later, Finrod saw Glorfindel step onto the field, armored but weaponless, which brought a slight smile to the prince’s lips. Glorfindel might be emotionally young still, but he was also an Elf-lord and understood well the rules of protocol. If the ellon noticed how nearly every eye in the stands was on him, he pretended otherwise. Instead, he climbed the gallery steps and waited alongside Sador and Veryandur for Ingwë to appear, looking calm and in control.

The High King’s entourage came only moments later, augmented by two ellyn and their guards. Valacar still looked sullen, while Súlimondil’s face was an interesting shade of black, green and purple where Glorfindel had hit him. Ingwë’s expression was somber but when he saw Sador and Glorfindel, he smiled, then beckoned for Veryandur to come to him, which the elfling did very reluctantly. Those in the stands saw the High King of All the Elves in Aman kneel before the child and speak to him in soft tones. They saw the child, obviously nervous and fearful, begin to relax as Ingwë unobtrusively rubbed the elfling’s back. Soon the ellon was smiling and nodding enthusiastically at something the High King was saying. The bystanders then saw the child say something that set Ingwë and all the other adults laughing, except Sador, who was blushing, and Valacar and Súlimondil, neither of whom were in the mood for levity.

Ingwë stood and, taking Veryandur’s hand, led the child to the front of the gallery with Sador and Glorfindel beside him. A gesture from the High King also brought Súlimondil and Valacar to the forefront as well. Ingwë then turned to the spectators and spoke in a loud commanding voice.

"Rumors have reached Our ears that Lord Glorfindel and Lord Sador have committed heinous acts upon two of Our subjects," Ingwë said without preamble. "These scurrilous attacks on the good names of these two lords are an insult to Our beneficence and We are here to put them to rest." He gestured for Glorfindel and Súlimondil to step forward. Súlimondil refused to look at anyone while Glorfindel stood straight and lordly, his demeanor not arrogant but confident. At that moment Glorfindel looked every inch the warrior Elf-lord that he was.

Ingwë continued speaking. "One rumor has it that Lord Glorfindel not only attacked Lord Súlimondil but murdered him as well." Ingwë glanced at both ellyn and smiled mirthlessly. "As you can all see, Lord Súlimondil is alive... if not exactly well, and Lord Glorfindel is under no restraints. It is true that Lord Glorfindel attempted to attack Lord Súlimondil for an unfortunate remark made by him but he was quickly stopped by Lord Námo and Lord Glorfindel has since apologized for his behavior."

"Why does Lord Súlimondil appear to be injured, then, my lord king?" someone nearby called out.

Ingwë frowned at the interruption but answered readily enough, for in truth, it was a legitimate question, given the said lord’s physical appearance. "I ordered Lord Súlimondil to attend me last night. He did not show and I ordered his arrest. He resisted arrest."

The spectators began whispering to one another at that and Ingwë raised his hand for silence. It took another moment or two for everyone to again give their attention to the High King.

"Lord Sador has also been the victim of rumors claiming that he attempted to kidnap a child of the Vanyar with the complicity of the Lord of Mandos."

Several people in the gallery, including Valandur and Glorfindel, noted one or two of the nearby spectators smirking as Ingwë spoke. Valandur mentally took note of them while Glorfindel merely glowered in their general direction, idly stroking the leather of his empty scabbard. Ingwë had also noticed but continued speaking to the crowd.

"We are here to tell you that these rumors are also scurrilous. Here is the child in question," he bent down and lifted the ellon up and let him stand on the railing so all might see him. "And, as you can see, Lord Sador also is under no restraints. We are aware of the circumstances leading to yesterday’s incident and We assure you that no harm was ever intended this child nor has he suffered any."

Ingwë then set Veryandur on the ground and gave the ellon a squeeze on a shoulder before addressing the crowd again. "Veryandur and several other elflings are presently bound to Prince Findaráto by oaths of service and We are confident that Our great-nephew will endeavor to assure that they remain safe while in his service." He paused for a moment, his mien darkening and becoming quite imperious.

"It is all We will say on the subject," he stated coldly. "If it comes to Our attention that rumors against Lord Glorfindel or Lord Sador, or indeed, against any of Our guests, still abound, We will do all in Our power to discover the rumormongers among you and You will know Our displeasure first hand... before We turn you over to the Valar for further... chastisement."

The threat was not idle and everyone there knew it. There was an uneasy silence throughout, then Ingwë nodded and ignoring everyone else, bent down and spoke softly to Veryandur, who, after a quick glance at Sador who smiled encouragingly, gave the High King a nod. Ingwë smiled and, lifting the ellon again, settled him on his lap as he took his seat. The others followed suit and the spectators were witness to seeing their High King and Queen being solemnly introduced to the elfling’s stuffed toy. Glorfindel bowed to everyone and made his way down the stairs and across the field to join the other fighters now making their way towards the center of the lists. Ardamírë carried Glorfindel’s sword which the ellon received with a smile. Sador was encouraged to sit between Arafinwë and Eärwen, while Súlimondil and Valacar were made to sit in the back surrounded by their guards.

The Valar, who had remained unobtrusively on the sidelines while Ingwë addressed his people now took their own seats as before. Manwë nodded his approval to Ingwë and allowed Veryandur to introduce him to Narmollë, much to everyone’s amusement, Manwë’s not the least.

Meanwhile, as Eönwë appeared upon the field to introduce the next matches, he gave Glorfindel, standing nearby, a wink.

"Nice oath, by the way," the Maia said with a wicked grin as Glorfindel went, first white with mortification, then red with embarrassment. "I especially liked the part where you threatened to haul Ardamírë’s fëa into Mandos. Lord Námo heard that and rolled his eyes, muttering something to the effect that he needed to change the locks on his door."

The other warriors standing nearby, having heard the Maia’s words, started laughing and Glorfindel joined in. Eönwë nodded in satisfaction before turning to the crowd and introducing the fighters. This time, Haldir and Aldarion would fight in the front list along with Cirion and Mithlas, while Glorfindel and Ardamírë would fight behind Haldir and Aldarion. Gilvagor and Findegil would be fighting behind Cirion and Mithlas.

Soon the marshals of the various lists were heard to shout, "Lay on!" and the fighting began. Most had their eyes glued to the match between Glorfindel and Ardamírë and it was indeed a glorious if short-lived match. Ardamírë, taking Glorfindel’s earlier admonishments to heart, gave it his all and actually forced Glorfindel to change his tactics. Still, it was not long before it was obvious who would win the match. Ardamírë continued fighting as best he could, refusing to admit defeat even though he had been unable to score a single point. Glorfindel merely smiled behind his helm, glad for the workout. The previous night’s excursion had done nothing to help his mood and he was still trying to come to terms with his new memories.

While he had known he had fought in the Nirnaeth and what had transpired during the battle, that knowledge had been merely academic because people had told him about it, but this had been the first real memory of that event for him and it had nearly overwhelmed him. Now, he was simply glad to be able to take some of his frustrations at his situation out on someone who could give as good as he got. Glorfindel actually allowed the match to continue for longer than necessary just so he could release some of the tension that had built up within him.

At last, though, he knew that he was being unfair to Ardamírë, whom he respected, and with a single stroke of his sword, swept the other ellon’s sword out of his hand and the match was over. Ardamírë was sweating. Glorfindel barely looked winded. As the older elf stood there nearly reeling with fatigue, everyone saw Glorfindel retrieve Ardamírë’s sword and hand it to him. Ardamírë pushed his sword into its sheath and Glorfindel then embraced the older ellon and spoke softly to him. Ardamírë nodded and said something that caused Glorfindel to laugh as the two of them walked off the field together.

Ingwë gave Arafinwë a shrewd look. "He’s still not fighting," he said almost petulantly.

Arafinwë shook his head. "No, he’s not. I am beginning to wonder if he ever will."

Sador spoke up then, his expression one of dismay. "He did not sleep well last night, Atar. He woke up at least once yelling something about Ecthelion and orcs."

Arafinwë gave his ward a puzzled look which was shared by most everyone else in the gallery. Manwë spoke then, his tone serene. "Lord Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, was Glorfindel’s closest friend in Gondolin. He died the night Gondolin fell fighting at Turgon’s side, while Glorfindel saw to the safety of Turgon’s family. Ecthelion and Glorfindel were Turgon’s chief captains during the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, guarding the army’s two flanks as they made their retreat towards the Pass of Sirion."

Sador nodded. "Lord Ecthelion of the Fountain slew a balrog, too, when Gondolin fell."

Many in the gallery raised eyebrows at that. Manwë nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Not just any balrog, either, but Gothmog, the Lord of Balrogs, and one of Melkor’s chief lieutenants."

"And Glorfindel was remembering his friend?" Eärwen asked with a concerned look on her face.

"Yes, so it would seem," Manwë conceded. The Elder King sighed. "I will have to let Námo know of this. This memory may prove... unfortunate."

"How so, lord?" Ingwë asked.

Manwë gave the High King a sad smile. "We are concerned that this tournament is dredging up memories for the Reborn that it would be better if they did not surface just yet."

Sador paled at the Elder King’s words and Arafinwë, noticing, placed a comforting arm around the ellon’s shoulders, while Eärwen stroked his cheek.

"Hey!" Veryandur shouted, quite forgotten on Ingwë’s lap. "What’s wrong with him?" He pointed towards the front list where Haldir and Aldarion were fighting.

Arafinwë turned to where Veryandur was pointing and saw Haldir suddenly attack Aldarion with a fury that Arafinwë somehow knew was not born of enthusiasm. Aldarion was obviously fighting, not for his honor, but for his life. It was apparent to every warrior watching that Haldir meant to kill the other ellon. Ingwë stood up, putting Veryandur down. Surprisingly, the child did not cower but leaned against the rail and watched in fascinated wonder at the drama going on before him.

"Someone stop him," Ingwë shouted and then Sador leaped up and over the rail and ran towards the two fighters, ignoring Ingwë and Arafinwë’s shouts to come back.

They saw Finrod running onto the field as well, shouting for Glorfindel, who had not yet doffed his armor. The Balrog-slayer came running out of the fighters’ tent, took in the situation at a glance and ran after Finrod. Laurendil and Vorondil were also running towards the field, with Laurendil holding a sheathed knife. Mithlas, still fighting Cirion in the next list over, could see what was happening as well and with a decisive movement forced Cirion’s shield from him and landed a "killing" blow. The ellon went to his knees, stunned, while Mithlas, barely taking the time to apologize, ran towards the other list, taking the rope fence separating the two lists with a single bound. By mutual consent, Gilvagor and Findegil, both recognizing what was happening, stopped their own bout and ran towards where everyone else was congregating. Laurendil caught up with Mithlas and with a shout threw the knife at him which the Sinda deftly caught without missing a step.

Glorfindel, catching up to Finrod, yelled for him to stay back, since he was unarmored and unarmed. He then proceeded to tackle Haldir who was now heard to be screaming something in Sindarin, his face behind his helm frozen in a spasm of fury. At the last moment, as Glorfindel was tackling Haldir, Sador came up behind Aldarion and shouted at him to drop his sword.

Amazingly, the ellon complied with the strange order just as Sador reached him. The Sinda grabbed him from behind, pulling him back and giving him an unheard command. At once Aldarion placed his shield before him even as Sador pulled them both to the ground so that the shield protected them both. As Glorfindel brought Haldir down from behind, the ellon’s sword fell harmlessly upon the shield before sliding away as the ellon landed hard on top of the shield before following his sword all the way to the ground.

Glorfindel clung to the still screaming and thrashing ellon even as Finrod, Mithlas, Laurendil and Vorondil approached. Laurendil stooped and retrieved Haldir’s sword while Vorondil grabbed Aldarion’s, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and wonder at what was happening. Finrod and Mithlas knelt beside Haldir with Finrod attempting to hold Haldir down.

"Aldarion!" everyone heard Finrod yell, "come here now."

Aldarion came out from behind his shield. He and Sador crawled over to where the others were still attempting to subdue the still screaming ellon. Mithlas unsheathed the knife in his hand while Sador grabbed Aldarion’s nearest arm and began to undo the gauntlet.

Aldarion began to protest, trying to get out of Sador's grip, but Finrod stayed him with a shake of his head. "This is necessary. I’m sorry."

"What..." the hapless ellon said, not understanding.

"There’s no time, Aldarion," Glorfindel said between gritted teeth as he tried to keep Haldir’s legs from kicking him in the face. "If we don’t do this Haldir will die."

That idea shook the other ellon and without another word he stopped his protest and Mithlas neatly sliced his hand, shoving the bleeding palm into Haldir’s face. Finrod began speaking something in Sindarin that Aldarion did not understand but then he noticed that Haldir’s thrashings were calming and soon he was still, his eyes blinking in confusion. Mithlas released his hold on his hand and Sador, ever practical, handed him a strip of cloth torn from his shirt.

There was not a sound from the stands, only the harsh breathing of the Tol Eressëan coming out of his blood-trance, looking about at the grim expressions of the ellyn kneeling around him without really seeing them or comprehending what had happened. His gaze finally focused on Finrod.

"M-my lord?" he whispered, his voice raspy, his expression one of confusion.

Finrod smiled weakly down at him. "Feeling better?"

Haldir could only nod bemusedly, then memory seemed to click and he started to rise. "Aldarion! Did I..."

Finrod pushed the ellon back down. "Aldarion is fine, Haldir. See you," he pointed at the Vanya kneeling on the other side of Haldir from Finrod. "he is well, if a little battered."

Haldir saw the blood-stained cloth covering Aldarion’s hand and suddenly realized what had happened and groaned, closing his eyes in shame. Aldarion knelt there, still unsure what was going on and gave Finrod a questioning look.

Finrod shook his head. "Explanations later, my friend. We need to get Haldir out of his armor and more comfortable. I’m sorry about your hand. I know you planned to compete in the archery competition this morning. I fear that cut will make it difficult, if not impossible, for you to do so now."

Before Aldarion could give an answer, several beings appeared and the warriors found themselves looking up at Lord Manwë, Lord Námo and Lady Estë. Manwë looked pensive, while Estë looked concerned. Námo’s expression was unreadable. Eönwë was also there, consulting with the list marshal.

Lady Estë gestured to Aldarion to give her his hand, which he did. She smiled at him and, removing the makeshift bandage, pressed her left hand on top of the palm. Aldarion gave a quick gasp of surprise even as Estë released him. There was no sign of blood, not even a scar to mark the place where Mithlas had cut him.

Aldarion flexed his fingers experimentally before looking up at the Valië, his expression one of deep gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered, giving her a bow. Estë merely smiled and nodded before turning her attention to Haldir who was attempting to sit up again. Vorondil had gone to fetch him some water and had returned with a flagon from which Haldir was now drinking. Manwë and Námo were consulting with Eönwë and Finrod.

"Until the... seizure," Finrod said quietly, "Haldir had scored more points than Aldarion, but under the circumstances I don’t think Haldir should be declared the winner."

Eönwë nodded his agreement. "Haldir will need to be disqualified, but I think Aldarion will be disappointed that he won this match by default."

Manwë gave Finrod a shrewd look. "If Haldir is disqualified, that means you will not be able to compete."

Finrod shrugged resignedly, but Námo spoke then. "Or we say that Findaráto also won his match by default and allow him to continue competing. He will simply sit out the next round and fight one of the winners of that round."

Finrod shook his head. "It would be better if Haldir be allowed to continue, but he will be placed in the parma-list while Aldarion advances in the tinco-list."

"Neither will feel that they are deserving of their status," Manwë opined. "Haldir will continue feeling ashamed at what he almost did and Aldarion will feel that he somehow cheated and that Haldir should be the one to remain in the tinco-list."

"And who would be willing to fight Haldir now for fear of another... episode?" Eönwë asked.

"I will," Finrod said simply. "Nor do I fear another episode occurring so soon. It has never happened before in my experience; I doubt it will happen now."

"Will he want to fight again, though?" Manwë asked but Finrod shook his head.

"He must fight, my lord," the prince said emphatically. "It will be the only way he can get past what has happened here. It’s rather like falling off a horse."

Two Valar and one Maia gave the Elda a disbelieving look and Finrod nodded grimly. "I know of what I speak, my lords. I’ve been where Haldir is now."

They nodded in agreement. "Let’s bring Haldir and Aldarion into the conversation, then," Manwë said and soon the other two ellyn joined them while everyone else stood aside waiting to see what would develop. Sador, in fact, had gone to give Alassiel a hand with the elflings, since Finrod was otherwise occupied. Haldir looked pale and haggard, Aldarion simply looked confused. Manwë and the others gave the two ellyn sympathetic looks.

"I’m sorry this has happened," Manwë said without preamble. "It grieves me that what was meant to be a pleasant enterprise has turned into a nightmare for the Reborn."

Haldir did not answer nor look up. Aldarion said nothing. Glorfindel, who had joined them, though not invited, merely shrugged.

"It seems to come with the territory, my lord," he said quietly. "There is naught we can do to predict or control these memories; we can only accept them and work through them."

Námo gave him a shrewd look. "I will have my brother give you something so you may sleep better tonight, best beloved. It will not do to have your rest disturbed when you are competing in the tournament."

Glorfindel scowled. "I am fine, my lord, I..."

"Let us decide that, child," Irmo said as he suddenly appeared among them. He glanced at Haldir, who still had not looked up and placed a hand under the ellon’s chin, making him look into the Vala’s eyes.

For a long moment there was only silence and then Haldir gave a stifled sob and started weeping. Both Glorfindel and Finrod wrapped their arms around him to keep him from collapsing to the ground. Irmo nodded, apparently satisfied.

"Why don’t you take him to the healer’s tent and let him rest?" he said and that was the signal for Laurendil and Vorondil to take the ellon in hand and lead him away, still quietly weeping. Estë followed them after giving her spouse a brief but brilliant smile which he returned.

Aldarion looked distraught. "So what happens now?" he asked as Haldir was led away.

Finrod spoke then. "That is what we are attempting to decide. Haldir was actually winning the match before he fell into the blood-trance. You must admit that."

Aldarion nodded. "I was hoping to knock his sword out of his hand, but I knew that it was unlikely to happen. In fact I was about ready to concede the match when he..."

They all nodded in understanding.

"Unfortunately, under the circumstances, we do not think it right for him to continue fighting in the tinco-list," Eönwë said, giving Aldarion a measured look.

The Vanya looked at them in alarm. "But if he doesn’t compete..."

"We did not say he cannot compete," Manwë interjected. "We are merely saying that he cannot remain as one of the tinco-list fighters."

Aldarion shook his head. "No. I lost the match, I was losing the match. If anyone is to be placed in the parma-list it should be I. Haldir would have won regardless."

"There is no easy solution to this problem," Námo said, giving the ellon a sympathetic look. "Under the rules of the list, Haldir should be disqualified and not allowed to compete at all, but given the circumstances, we think it necessary for him to fight again."

"His heart won’t be in it," Glorfindel said. "Even if he does fight, he will not fight to his full strength. He’ll let his opponent win."

Finrod shook his head. "Not if he fights against me. I will not allow it and more importantly, Gwilwileth won’t allow it." He grinned at that. Glorfindel and Aldarion gave him puzzled looks but the Valar and Eönwë chuckled knowingly.

"Then are we agreed?" Manwë asked. "Haldir will be allowed to remain in the list and will fight against Findaráto this afternoon while Aldarion advances in the tinco-list."

Everyone nodded, though Aldarion’s nod was reluctant and he still looked upset. Glorfindel put a comforting arm around the ellon’s shoulders. "Be at peace, Aldarion," he said consolingly. "If you’re lucky, you’ll lose the next match and then you won’t have anything to worry about."

Aldarion gave Glorfindel a disbelieving look while everyone else struggled not to laugh. Then the ellon gave a large sigh and swatted the back of Glorfindel’s head with his left hand, which was still encased in a gauntlet.

"Ow!" Glorfindel yelled, clutching his head. "That hurt!"

"Good," Aldarion said then turned to the others with a wide grin. "I feel so much better now."

The others broke out laughing and soon Glorfindel and Aldarion joined them.