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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

139: Day of Reckoning

The feast lasted only as long as the elflings were able to stay awake. Veryandur, in fact, was sleepily perched on Elindis’ lap and the older elflings were trying to hide yawns when Finrod decided that it was time for them to leave, though the night was young.

"The morrow will come soon enough," he said to Ingwë, "and unlike Glorfindel, I’ve had to fight twice today. I need some sleep if I’m going to be halfway competent in fighting him tomorrow."

So with some reluctance everyone bade the fighters good-night. Olwë wanted Beleg to stay with him but the Sinda demurred, saying that he needed time to come to grips with what had happened. "I spent the last three months thinking no one wanted me," he said quietly. "Now my friends have found me and... I have a family again. I need...." but what he needed he could not articulate even to himself.

Olwë merely hugged him and gave him a tender kiss. "Then you should go with your friends, hinya," he said softly. "When you are ready, I’ll still be here."

Beleg gave him a grateful smile and went to join Finrod and Glorfindel who were helping Sador and Alassiel herd the children away. Ingwë insisted that they be escorted back to the encampment and so they were. Eventually all were settled in their beds. Finrod and Glorfindel invited Beleg to sleep on the cot recently occupied by Sador who was now sleeping with Veryandur. He was reluctant at first, for he seemed always to have trouble sleeping inside. Even in Lórien he often ended up sleeping in a tree and in Eldamas Vánandur had finally fixed up a sleeping pallet for him on the roof of the house when, on the second morning, he found the ellon sleeping sitting up on the window sill of his bedroom.

"You don’t have to sleep with us, gwador," Finrod said, noticing the Sinda’s reluctance. "We can put some rugs down by the fire for you, instead. Do not feel you have to join us inside. We won’t be offended."

Beleg nodded and feeling somewhat stupid about it, decided he would like to sleep by his gwedyr after all. Glorfindel grinned and gave him a hug. Soon the three of them were nestled in their blankets, but neither Glorfindel nor Finrod were surprised when sometime in the night they felt Beleg stirring and slipping outside, dragging several blankets with him. The two ellyn gave each other knowing looks before returning to sleep.

****

Both Finrod and Glorfindel were up with the dawn, as were Sador and Beleg, whom they found tending the fire when they came out of the pavilion. They had a light breakfast of hot tea, bread and cheese, then they made their way to the single arming tent that was still up, the other one having been taken down a couple of days earlier. Waiting inside the tent were two bathing tubs steaming with water. Finrod had made arrangements the day before with Ingwë and all was in readiness for the two champions as they prepared for the final battle of the tournament. If Glorfindel won the morning’s match, the tourney would be over, otherwise, the championship would be decided with the afternoon’s match.

When the four ellyn entered the tent, though, they stopped in surprise, for they found, not Ingwë’s people awaiting them, but Lord Irmo and Lord Námo, both dressed in matching robes. Irmo was dressed in an ankle-length tunic of soft suede bleached white. The openings of the sleeves were wide and underneath he wore a shirt of white lawn with the cuffs gathered at the wrist by ties. The cuffs, hem and placket of the tunic were embroidered with an intricate knotwork design in scarlet and gold thread interspersed with pearls. Over this he wore a sideless surcoat of white wool on which was embroidered his personal emblem of the rainbow.

Námo’s outfit was similar, except the suede tunic was dyed a deep midnight blue trimmed with a similar knotwork design embroidered with silver and gold thread interspersed with opals. His wool surcoat was dyed a greyish-blue on which his emblem of the Sun-in-Eclipse was embroidered.

Both Valar wore thin mithril circlets upon their heads, but only Námo’s locks were braided as usual.

The four ellyn bowed to the two Valar, giving them quizzical looks. Námo smiled at them. "Well, my children, so it comes down to this, does it not?" he said, speaking in Sindarin. He gestured for them to come all the way into the tent, which they did. He gave Beleg a considering glance. "Do you understand now, best beloved, why there was none to greet you at the Gate?"

Beleg nodded shyly, then frowned as he looked on the Lord of Mandos. "Why can I not remember more of my previous life, lord? Finrod, Glorfindel and Sador seem to have remembered much of their lives even before leaving Lórien. I barely remember my own name."

Námo sighed and motioned for Beleg to approach, taking the Sinda into his embrace and rubbing his back in comfort. "I do not know, child," he answered. "Each Reborn is different. I only know that the memories will come when you are ready for them... and even when you are not." He pulled the ellon out of his embrace a bit to smile down at him. The warmth of the Vala’s regard and the obvious love and concern in his gaze comforted Beleg and the Sinda nodded.

Irmo then spoke. "Well, the day is wasting and this water won’t stay hot for long." He gave them all a brilliant smile and the four elves chuckled. Finrod and Glorfindel began divesting themselves of their clothes and soon the two of them were slipping into the tubs while Sador and Beleg busied themselves checking over their friends’ armor and weapons. Irmo and Námo sat in identical ornately carved chairs waiting for the two elves to finish their bathing, each holding a large absorbent towel.

When the ellyn were done, the Valar handed them the towels and then gave them freshly laundered breeches and shirts. When Finrod started to rebraid his hair, though, Irmo stopped him and silently led him to his own chair, while Námo did the same with Glorfindel. The two Valar then proceeded to braid the elves’ locks themselves, much to Finrod and Glorfindel’s embarrassment and secret delight. While their hair was being braided, Námo started speaking.

"Today, my children, will be a day of reckoning for many." He paused and his amaranthine eyes took in Sador and Beleg standing nearby. "Yours is not the only battle being fought here, and perhaps not even the most important. Nevertheless, what happens in the list today will determine much of the future of Aman."

Finrod frowned and glanced sideways at the Vala, careful not to move his head as Irmo continued braiding his hair. "How so, lord?" he asked Námo. "Will it matter which of us wins this tournament, or is it that whoever wins is a Reborn rather than a Once-born?"

Irmo it was who answered him. "It matters not who wins, child, yet it matters much." He smiled slightly at the identical looks of confusion on all four ellyn’s faces. "There is still much resentment against the Reborn, or at least against those of you who are Noldorin," he added. "It is not that it will be a Reborn who wins the tournament that will upset some people, rather it’s the fact that the winner will be one who rebelled against our Authority. There is still resentment in some quarters that we Valar have forgiven you your rebellion and have welcomed you back into our good graces."

"But we never wanted to be forgiven," Glorfindel said with all sincerity, "otherwise, we would have turned back when the opportunity presented itself. We never expected forgiveness and would not have been surprised if it had been denied us, simply because we knew we deserved it not, nor had we earned it."

Námo stopped braiding Glorfindel’s hair long enough to lean over and give the ellon a brief kiss on his forehead. "Forgiveness is not something you earn, child. It is something that is freely offered, like love. It is for you to accept it or not. It cannot be forced on you."

"But wasn’t it?" Sador suddenly asked. "I... I mean when we died?"

Námo gave the Sinda a warm smile. "And do you think you needed to be forgiven, child?"

Sador blushed. "Well, I am partly of Noldorin blood, so I thought..."

"It does not work that way, Sador," Námo said gravely as he continued with Glorfindel’s hair. "Your blood heritage has nothing to do with it. You and Beleg were always innocent of rebellion against us. Only those who left Aman without our leave were ever guilty of rebellion. Even the Noldorin children who followed their parents into Ennorath or those born there were ever deemed innocent."

"But the Noldor told us that we, too, needed forgiveness from you for having forsaken the journey west," Beleg said with a frown. "Though, I don’t remember feeling that was an issue when I... when I died."

Námo gave him a gentle smile. "Nor was it, not for you or for any Sinda or Nando who comes to Mandos. The Noldor, I’m afraid, projected their own sense of guilt and unease at what they had done upon you, little realizing or refusing to acknowledge the possibility that we Powers were well acquainted with the kingdom that our sister Melian forged with Elu Thingol. We’ve never truly understood why Eru permitted that union and its subsequent fruit in Lúthien. We only know that it was sanctioned by Him and therefore blessed by us."

"Yet, you refused to aid us until we were almost lost," Sador retorted, though not in anger, merely wanting to understand.

Irmo nodded. "So it would seem," he said with equanimity, "but in fact we needed to wait until you were ready to accept our help. Turgon’s attempts to reach us, for instance, were done, not because he truly wished for our aid, but because he feared the loss of his kingdom and wanted us to save it for him."

"Eärendil, on the other hand," Námo picked up the narrative, "came to us in all humility in the name of both Eldar and Edain. Turgon and the others who sent emissaries to us were more concerned for themselves and none of them were truly interested in the plight of the Mortals who were their allies, only in keeping what they had for themselves above all else. Eärendil had nothing, and he was Peredhel, having the blood of both Elves and Men, so could speak for both races."

"So your help was contingent on us wanting to save not only ourselves but the Secondborn?" Finrod asked.

"Of course," Námo said, sounding somewhat surprised, as if the answer was obvious. "Remember ye the lies of Melkor concerning the Second Children of Ilúvatar?" he asked formally.

Glorfindel scowled and Finrod looked ashamed. Both Irmo and Námo gave him knowing looks. "You believed them, didn’t you, child?" Irmo asked Finrod, his tone gentle and sympathetic.

Finrod blushed even more and nodded. "At first," he whispered, not looking up. "But when I at last met Bëor and his people, I... I fell in love with them and knew only that they were a marvel to behold, like yet unlike unto the Eldar. The year I spent with them below the springs of Thalos...." his expression cleared and his eyes held only wonder.

Both Valar nodded. "Many of you believed Melkor when he claimed that we did not speak of the Secondborn to you because we wished to deny you your inheritance in Ennorath," Irmo continued. "You believed that we kept you in Aman so that we could control both you and the Secondborn more easily."

Námo gave Finrod a piercing look. "You, best beloved, left because of your love for Turgon. Both of you followed Fëanor into exile, not to exact vengeance upon Melkor, but to ensure that the Secondborn never supplant you and what you thought was yours by right, refusing to acknowledge that it was never yours to begin with anyway, but belonged to your Sindarin kin." Here he glanced at Sador and Beleg, giving them gentle smiles.

"Your saving grace, Finrod," Irmo said as he worked the last braid, "is that, unlike your cousin Turgon, you truly are not arrogant and you showed proper respect towards Elu Thingol and Melian, learning much from them. When you found Bëor and his people you welcomed them. Turgon, I’m afraid would not have and the three Mortals he did welcome he did so grudgingly, even Tuor."

"And what was true for Turgon was true for the others, as well, but more so, for all that they accepted the Secondborn amongst them," Námo continued. "That is why we waited until circumstances forced the Eldar, especially the Noldor, to recognize that without the Edain, your kingdoms would have perished much sooner."

"Nargothrond would not have perished at all if Túrin had not convinced Orodreth to build a bridge before the secret gates of my city," Finrod stated heatedly, "or so I’ve since learned from those who survived that disaster."

"Think you so?" Námo asked. "Orodreth may indeed have been foolish to listen to the words of Túrin, but the truth is, child, that Nargothrond would have fallen regardless. The only difference is, it would have been the last of the kingdoms to fall, not the first. Do not blame Túrin overmuch in this; much of the fault must lie with your nephew."

There was considerable silence then and Irmo sighed. "Well, we’ve gotten a bit off the track here. The point we wished to make is that today’s outcome will not be welcomed by all, regardless of who wins. Be aware of this in the coming days, weeks and months... all of you."

The elves acknowledged the Vala’s words with varying degrees of understanding. Both Finrod and Glorfindel frowned, while Sador simply looked sad. Beleg, on the other hand, looked confused.

The Valar finished braiding Finrod’s and Glorfindel’s locks. Sador and Beleg came forward then to help the two fighters with their armor, while the Fëanturi sat in their chairs and watched. There was little speech save for a quiet word or two among the elves. Finally, all was done and the former King of Nargothrond and the former Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin stood before the two Valar in knightly splendor save for their swords, which the Fëanturi held in their hands. To the surprise of all four elves, the two Valar then knelt before Finrod and Glorfindel and belted their swords on them, Irmo with Finrod’s sword and Námo with Glorfindel’s. Then they stood and both smiled.

"I have no doubt it will be a glorious battle howsoever it ends," Irmo said and Námo nodded.

Just then, Eönwë walked into the tent and gave them all a profound bow, then straightened and looked upon the Valar. "My lords, the Elder King would have words with you."

"Thank you, Eönwë," Námo said with a nod of his head, then he looked upon the four elves. "We will leave you now, my children, with this last thought: I told Glorfindel that the primary goal for this tournament has not been realized, yet that is not strictly true. The camaraderie and genuine friendships that have been forged between the various competitors, whatever their race, cannot be disparaged and it gives us hope for the future of Aman. Yet, never forget that peace is fragile and the peace of Aman has been severely threatened on more than one occasion. Your task, today and tomorrow and all the tomorrows of your lives, is to help ensure that that peace is not destroyed again the way it was during the Darkening."

With those words, the Fëanturi left by way of the tent entrance while Eönwë remained behind. The Maia gave them all warm smiles. "We will begin whenever you are ready," he said to Finrod and Glorfindel. "It has been a pleasure to act as Herald for this tournament," he added. "I am honored to be witness to the grace and courtesy, brotherly love and regard which all of you have exhibited this past week." He gave them a bow and the elves bowed in return, though Sador gave the Maia a jaundiced look.

"I don’t know why you include me with the others," he said, "I didn’t compete."

Now the Maia laughed and the sound was gay and heart-lifting. "Nay, you did not, my young friend, yet yours was the greater task with the least amount of glory."

All four ellyn gave Eonwë quizzical looks and the Maia laughed again, clapping Sador on a shoulder. "You had the unenviable task of keeping watch over five rambunctious elflings. If anyone deserves a prize it is you and Lady Alassiel."

Now the elves laughed and Glorfindel said that if he won the tournament he would share the prize with Sador and Alassiel. Finrod declared that was a good idea and agreed to do the same if he won. Beleg just smiled smugly when the other three ellyn gave him expectant looks.

"I don’t share," he said, sticking his tongue out at them. "It’s all mine... whatever it is," he added with a hesitant shrug, suddenly realizing he had no idea what the archery prize was.

The others laughed and Sador said that sharing with Finrod or Glorfindel would be more than he deserved anyway. "Alassiel did most of the work," he opined. "I just stood around trying to look useful."

"Well, it was a very convincing act," Finrod said with a laugh and they all joined him even as they headed out of the tent.

****

As they exited the tent and walked towards the list, the spectators went silent. Sador and Beleg went over to where Alassiel and the elflings were sitting while Finrod and Glorfindel continued on. The two ellyn gave Ingwë and the other royals profound bows and then Eönwë announced them with great solemnity. There was an expectant hush as the two faced each other. In anticipation of a marvelous bout, the ropes dividing the four lists had been removed, allowing these two the entire field of battle for their match. They stood in the center, bowed to one another, and then raised swords and shields before them.

For a few minutes they merely circled each other, tentatively checking each other’s defenses. Suddenly, Glorfindel feinted towards the left then swung around to the right only for Finrod to come back into a guard position in time for Glorfindel’s sword to land with a dull thud on Finrod’s shield. Then Finrod came back with a blow of his own and the fighting began in earnest.

Sador and Beleg heard some of the spectators behind them placing bets on the match. Most of the bets seemed to favor Glorfindel over Finrod. Some of the betting was not even on who would win or lose, but on how long the match was expected to last. The two ellyn grimaced at one another at the mercenary attitudes of the spectators placing bets. They realized that however the match ultimately went fortunes would be won and lost this day throughout Eldamar.

Alassiel, equally aware of what was occurring behind them, frowned but otherwise said nothing to either Sador or Beleg. Indeed, her heart was somewhat torn, for, as Findaráto’s squire, she wanted to see her lord win, but she also wanted to see Glorfindel win as well. Lindorillë, sitting on one side of Alassiel, seemed to understand the elleth’s quandary, because she leaned against Alassiel’s shoulder and whispered, "Maybe they can both win."

Alassiel looked down at the younger elleth in surprise and, seeing the seriousness in Lindorillë’s eyes, smiled and gave her a warm hug. "That would be something wouldn’t it?" she whispered back. Lindorillë smiled widely and nodded.

By now, the two fighters had left the center of the field and were moving across it at a rapid pace. At the moment, Glorfindel was on the defensive, being forced back towards the royal viewing gallery by Finrod’s onslaught. It was apparent to those watching that Finrod hoped to pin his opponent, but Glorfindel realized his danger and was able to sidle towards his right a little at a time so that before they were halfway across the field it was now Finrod whose back was to the royal gallery, though Glorfindel continued backing up until he was ready to launch his own attack, which he did with lightning speed that left all there breathless.

The battle between the two ellyn was increasing in both speed and intensity. It was becoming obvious that, as brilliantly as Findaráto had fought over the last few days, he too had been holding back in both skill and power. Those who had fought their matches with the Prince of the Noldor sat there with mouths agape, realizing that had Finrod fought against them the way he was fighting against Glorfindel none of them would have lasted five minutes on the field. Ingwion, sitting between his parents, felt himself go hot with embarrassment as he came to that conclusion for himself, wondering if he truly had had a chance at winning against his cousin. He felt a hand on his right arm, but when he looked down, there was nothing there. Then he heard the Elder King bespeak him mind-to-mind:

*Do not disparage thyself so, child,* the Elder King said gently. Ingwion looked up to see that Manwë was not bothering to take his eyes from the match even as he continued speaking to Ingwion’s mind and heart. *Thou art no less worthy than thy cousin in all things. Rememberest thou this though: thy cousin’s skills were honed by war against the might of Melkor’s Maiar servants and other fell creatures of our Fallen Brother’s making. Thou hast not that experience, but thou hast no need to feel shame for that lack. We are well pleased with thee in all things. Take comfort in that thought if thou wilt.*

Only then did Manwë turn to look at Ingwion, giving the ellon a warm smile and a nod before returning his ancient regard upon the field of battle. Ingwion sighed and silently thanked the Elder King for his words, feeling a gentle, though invisible, pat on his arm. Then he turned his own attention back to the fighting, marveling at the speed and the skill of both contenders, appreciating anew what these two must have endured all those centuries ago in Beleriand, while he had remained safely behind, not just once, but twice. That thought brought a frown to his face and then he heard Manwë bespeak him again, though his words were tinged with exasperation.

*Thou art a difficult student, my son,* Manwë said. *If thou had not volunteered to return unto my sister for further lessoning, I would have sent thee there myself.*

Now Ingwion blushed again. *Forgive me, my lord,* he thought. *I fear I’ve been a trial to all mine elders of late.*

*Understandably so, child,* came the reply, *but let not such thoughts lead thee to discouragement. The reasons for thee not joining Arafinwë when the Host of Valinor went to the aid of Beleriand were sound then as well as now.* There was a slight pause before the Elder King continued. *Second guessing thine elders is never good for one’s health, anyway.*

This last was said with such drollness that Ingwion could not help but laugh aloud, quickly turning it into a coughing fit so as not to have to explain what he was finding humorous. Even as he accepted a goblet of water from one of the pages he noticed Lord Manwë smiling slightly, his point made.

Meanwhile, the fighting continued apace. Both ellyn had stepped back to give themselves a breathing space, though they never stopped circling each other, waiting for the right moment to attack again. The clash of swords on shields reverberated throughout the stands. Finrod’s elflings often clapped hands over ears or eyes. Vorondil and Aldundil, sitting nearby, were equally stunned at the ferocity of the fighting. Vorondil suddenly realized just how much fortitude and patience his master had exhibited towards him over the last several months and Aldundil was at last beginning to understand just who held his life in his hands. Aldundil put an arm around his son’s shoulders and Vorondil unconsciously nestled deeper into his atar’s embrace, never taking his eyes off his beloved master.

The fighting had been going on for some time now. Each ellon had scored upon the other but it looked as if Glorfindel might come away the winner after all, for he had managed to land more blows on Finrod that fell true and there was a palpable increase in excitement amongst the spectators as Glorfindel suddenly took the offensive and began to drive Finrod back. Where there had been almost respectful silence from the crowds until then, now there was scattered cheering from the stands. Sador took a quick glance behind him to where the bettors were still at it, noticing with a grimace the nearly predatory looks on some of the elves’ faces who were sure they were backing a winner. Beleg noticed Sador’s scowl and reached over and placed his hand on the ellon’s arm and squeezed it, offering what comfort he could. Sador looked at his new friend and visibly relaxed, giving his fellow Sinda a brief smile.

Then a shout of surprise from the elflings returned their attentions to the fighting just in time to see Finrod suddenly twist his torso away from what should have been the blow that would have ended the match in Glorfindel’s favor and then at the same time sweep his sword so that the flat of it struck Glorfindel’s legs, knocking the ellon sideways. In his attempt to recover his balance, Glorfindel was forced to drop his sword. Even so, he still fell on his side, the wind driven from his lungs. He rolled onto his back stunned.

There was complete silence from everyone as they watched Finrod rise from his crouch and stand over his brother. The prince removed his helm and all there could see him grinning down at Glorfindel as he negligently placed the point of his sword on the ellon’s chest.

Then little Veryandur suddenly started jumping up and down, clapping his hands in excitement and screamed, "Findaráto! Findaráto!"

At once the chant was taken up by the rest of the spectators and Findaráto’s name reverberated across the fields until even those who had remained in the city heard it.

Finrod ignored the cries of the crowd, bending down to give Glorfindel a hand up, followed by a hug. Then the two walked off the field with arms wrapped around each other even as the spectators continued to chant the Noldorin prince’s name.

****

Note: As stated earlier in this story, I do not follow the genealogy of the House of Finwë, as presented in The Silmarillion, with regards to Orodreth. Instead, I accept Christopher Tolkien’s statement that his father’s final word on the subject was that Orodreth was the son of Finrod’s brother, Angrod, and that Orodreth, not Fingon, was the father of Gil-galad, as well as Finduilas.





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