137: Recognition

While the four fighters were removing their armor, Ingwion invited Finrod and Glorfindel to sit with him in the viewing gallery for the final archery meet.

"You’ve seen nothing of the archery at all, Findaráto," he said as he doffed his surcoat, "and I don’t think Glorfindel has seen anything of it except for the first round."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I think I watched a couple of the archers shoot and then left," he replied. "I ended up at the Leaping Frog nursing an ale. I just had too much on my mind to pay much attention to anything else."

The others looked at him with sympathy. Mithlas, who was nearly done undressing, smiled. "At least you can watch the final meet and afterwards I’ll introduce you to Turindil."

Both Finrod and Glorfindel gave the Sinda a blank look. "Who?" Finrod asked.

"The elf I told you about," Mithlas answered. "The one who seemed familiar but I couldn’t place?" Both ellyn nodded, remembering now. "His name’s Turindil," Mithlas continued. "Gilvagor, Aldarion and I have become his friends. He’s only recently been released from Mandos and is very shy."

The light of understanding brightened in both their eyes and Finrod nodded. "I would be honored to meet him." Glorfindel nodded in agreement.

"It’s settled, then," Ingwion said. "The Valar favor your arrows this day, young Mithlas. We’ll see you and your friend after the match."

****

The final test in the archery competition was somewhat unique. The previous morning, while the list was being readied for Vorondil’s trial, the six archers were taken outside the area to a nearby meadow that was perhaps four hundred rangar or so wide, bordered by trees. The archers were made to stand at a particular spot and, one at a time, were asked to shoot a single arrow towards the trees. As each arrow was shot, a length of hísilia, knotted along its length for measuring, was stretched out from the archer to where the arrow landed, the distance carefully recorded.

Now, as the six archers readied themselves for this final match, the marshals were carefully measuring out certain lengths along the area where the shooting would take place. At certain points along the length of the rope a small colored pennant was placed in the ground, no two pennants the same color. There were actually four such pennants placed: red, yellow, green and blue. Once that was done then a target was put next to the first pennant. This target had a single malinornë leaf placed in the exact center. The leaf had been carefully measured and its center marked by a blob of red paint.

Each pennant represented the length at which one of the archers’ arrows had landed in the meadow the previous day. The red pennant represented Elemmirë’s and Marilla’s arrows. Their arrows had landed close enough together that the judges deemed it fair for them to shoot at the same target. The yellow pennant represented the arrows shot by Gilvagor and Aldarion, who again were deemed close enough in skill to warrant having them shoot at the same target. Mithlas would shoot at the target from the green pennant and Turindil would shoot at the target situated at the blue pennant. The targets were therefore set at the extreme distance that a particular archer could easily shoot and expect to hit something. Each archer was allowed two arrows. The first arrow would be for practice only, to allow the shooter to gauge the distance more correctly and would not count. The aim was to come as close to the center of the malinornë leaf as possible. If by chance two or more archers managed to hit the exact center of their leaf, then the next item placed on the target for them to shoot at would be a silver disc that would be half the diameter of the leaf.

Ingwion, Finrod and Glorfindel made their way to the viewing gallery, giving the royals and the Valar their obeisance while everyone congratulated Ingwion for placing fourth in the competition. The three ellyn sat together on the other side of Eärwen in the front row, chatting easily among themselves and ignoring the others as they accepted goblets of wine and pastries offered to them by one of the pages on duty. The others in the gallery watched with amusement as Finrod and Glorfindel attempted to teach Ingwion some curse words in Sindarin, muttering them under their breaths and giggling like elflings who know they are doing something naughty.

"No, no, Ingwion," Glorfindel said with a smirk. "That’s ‘pui-en-orch’," he enunciated the word carefully, "not ‘pweenorch’. There’s no such word."

Ingwion nodded and everyone could see him trying to say the word correctly, but it kept coming out as ‘pweenorch’ or something close to it and the three ellyn ended up in a fit of giggles.

"Sounds like you’re having a respiratory attack," Finrod proclaimed laughingly. "If you were an atan I would be seriously worried for your health."

That set them off laughing again. The older elves gave each other pleased looks at the easy camaraderie of the three ellyn, especially in light of yesterday’s events. The Valar and Maiar looked equally pleased and smiled benevolently on them all.

Then it was time for the archery contest to begin. The six archers made their way towards the starting place as Eönwë introduced them and explained how the final contest would be done.

"That must be Turindil, then," Ingwion said, pointing to the silver-grey-haired ellon who was walking next to Mithlas.

No one noticed the shocked looks on Finrod’s and Glorfindel’s faces at first. Then Glorfindel stood up abruptly and the intensity of his gaze alerted the others that something unexpected might be happening. "Finrod," he whispered, "is that..."

"BELEG!"

Everyone started at the sound of Finrod yelling, and then both he and Glorfindel jumped the rail of the gallery and landed at a run.

"BELEG!"

Turindil turned in surprise at the sound of someone calling him by his real name and when he saw Finrod and Glorfindel running towards him, he pushed his bow into Mithlas’ hands and began to run as well.

"FINROD! GLORFY!" he shouted as the three met and grabbing hands did an impromptu dance right then and there, laughing and crying and hugging each other. There were murmurs among the spectators and everyone could see Mithlas and Gilvagor staring at the trio of dancing ellyn in shock, for they at least recognized the name Finrod had shouted.

Ingwë and the other elves in the viewing gallery stood in amazement and befuddlement, not sure what was happening.

"I thought he said his name was Turindil," Ingwë said to no one in particular.

"That is the name he decided to use," Manwë said, "lest the other competitors become intimidated."

They all stared at the Elder King in confusion. Manwë merely smiled and said, "I think I’ll let Findaráto and Glorfindel explain."

By now the three ellyn had calmed down and were speaking to one another in rapid-fire Sindarin, ignoring everyone else, trying to catch up on each other’s news. Mithlas and Gilvagor walked over to them, their expressions still blank with shock. As they were approaching, the other three ellyn ceased their talking and waited for the two to reach them. When they did, Mithlas silently handed over Beleg’s bow and then the two Tol Eressëans gave him deep bows of respect, which confused the Amaneldi looking on even more. They watched as the silver-grey-haired ellon gave Finrod his bow then give Mithlas and then Gilvagor a hug. None could hear what was said between them but finally there were nods and glad smiles all around. Beleg retrieved his bow and he, Mithlas and Gilvagor returned to where the other three archers still stood. Finrod and Glorfindel made their way back to the gallery where everyone gave them enquiring looks.

"Friend of yours?" Ingwë asked with a quirk of a smile.

Finrod and Glorfindel both nodded. "We played with one another in Mandos," Finrod said matter-of-factly as he took his seat, but would say no more and the others had to be content.

Meanwhile, several people in the stands, all of them Tol Eressëans, were attempting to reach the field. At a silent command from Manwë several Maiar appeared quite suddenly, gently but firmly ordering the elves to return to their seats. They did so with much reluctance and disappointment. Even Sador had started to cross the field and had been stopped by a Maia, who was patiently listening to the ellon arguing and pointing towards the viewing gallery. Finally, the Maia relented and allowed the ellon to continue on his way. Sador gave the Maia a cheeky grin and a cheery wave to Alassiel and the elflings sitting in the stands and then loped across the field, taking the stairs to the gallery two at a time. He rushed past the Elder King and Varda, past Ingwë and Elindis and the other elves, never even acknowledging their presence, intent as he was in reaching his gwedyr.

"Is it true?" he asked, in his excitement speaking Sindarin. "Is that truly Beleg Cúthalion?"

Both Finrod and Glorfindel nodded but said nothing more. Sador sat down abruptly, his expression becoming distant as if he were chasing down a memory. "When we heard that he was dead, all of Doriath went into mourning. I... I heard that Thingol cursed the day Beleg found Túrin and brought him to Menegroth." Then his gaze focused on the present and he stared at Finrod. "Did you know him... I mean, before... in Doriath?"

Finrod shook his head. "I think I met him once, but being a marchwarden he was often away from Menegroth. I doubt if many of the people of Doriath even knew what he looked like."

"Mithlas..." Glorfindel started to say and Finrod nodded.

"He said ‘Turindil’ seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place him. I suspect that Mithlas knew of Beleg only by reputation."

"But who is he?" Ingwion asked in frustration, "besides a former playmate while you were all in Mandos."

"Túrin’s friend," Glorfindel stated categorically.

Sador’s eyes widened. "Even after what happened... he still loves him, doesn’t he?"

Finrod nodded, then turned his attention to the archery where Marilla was about to shoot. During their conversation they had missed Elemmirë’s shot and so did not know how well she had done. Already a new leaf had been placed on the target. Marilla’s first arrow fell short of the target by only a foot. She grimaced and they saw the elf now known to be Beleg Strongbow say something to her and she nodded before nocking her second arrow. Then she let loose and the arrow flew true, hitting the leaf, though not in the exact center. The archers all applauded and Elemmirë hugged her. Then they waited while the target was moved back to the yellow pennant and another leaf was put into place.

Now it was Aldarion’s turn. His first arrow hit the target just below the leaf, but his second went straight through the center. All saw Beleg say something that went unheard by the spectators but whatever was said sent Mithlas and Gilvagor into a fit of laughing while the two ellith turned bright red. Aldarion just stared at Beleg for a moment in shock and then he fell to the ground laughing hysterically. Beleg looked on with undisguised surprise. He gave Eönwë, who was standing nearby, a confused look. Everyone could see the Maia was trying hard not to laugh. Instead, he bent down and whispered something in the Sinda’s ear. Now everyone could see Beleg going white and then start blushing furiously. He appeared to be trying to stammer what must have been an apology, but the others waved it off. Mithlas gave him a fierce hug and Aldarion followed with a hug of his own.

Finrod, watching from the gallery, turned to Glorfindel and Sador with a laugh. "I think our newly Reborn Sinda just said something in Quenya he shouldn’t have."

Glorfindel snickered. "We’ll have to corner Mithlas or Aldarion and find out what he said," he replied with a wicked grin and Finrod nodded.

Sador, on the other hand, just shook his head, looking troubled. "I know how he feels. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him more than he already is."

Finrod gave the younger ellon a considering look, then leaned over and gave him a brief hug. "Then we won’t ask," he said quietly and Sador nodded, giving Finrod a grateful smile.

Then Gilvagor stepped up to the target and Mithlas clapped a hand over Beleg’s mouth and that set everyone laughing again. The spectators looked on with unfeigned interest, wondering what the Sinda could have said that had the other archers in hysterics. It took a couple of more minutes before Gilvagor was able to shoot. Both his arrows hit the leaf, but neither one hit the exact center.

It took several more minutes for the marshals to move the target further back to the green pennant and set it up for Mithlas.

"What do you know of this Beleg, Findaráto?" Olwë asked suddenly during the lull as the target was being set up.

Finrod turned to his grandfather and shrugged. "Not much more than that he was Thingol’s chief marchwarden, highly respected and loved by both Elu and Melian."

"What of his parentage?" Olwë asked.

Finrod shook his head. "Sorry, Anatar."

Olwë nodded and lapsed into contemplation, his brow furrowing in concentration. Glorfindel nudged Finrod to draw his attention back to the competition. By now the target was readied and Mithlas was stepping up to shoot. There was not a sound from anyone as all waited to see how well the Sinda would do. Already the target was at a distance that even the best Amanian archer would have found difficult to hit.

The first arrow sped towards the target and....

There was a resounding roar from the crowd for the arrow had hit true in the center of the leaf. Mithlas stepped back and there was a brief discussion between the marshals, Eönwë and Mithlas who shook his head at some question put to him and Eönwë nodded. When at that point the target was taken back to the blue pennant there was applause throughout the stands. Beleg clapped his friend on the shoulder and offered his congratulations before stepping up to the target.

Now there was a hush over the crowd as everyone practically held their breaths watching this mysterious archer. He nocked his arrow and brought the bow up, drawing back slowly and then he released. Before anyone could register the fact, he had his next arrow nocked and released within a second of the first arrow. The first arrow plowed through the target, hitting the center of the leaf and then the second arrow split the first arrow in half. The silence that followed that feat was absolute. Then Sador jumped up from where he’d been sitting and raised his hands above his head.

"Cúthalion!" he shouted, his expression one of near adoration.

"Cúthalion!" came the resounding reply from the stands as every Tol Eressëan stood and shouted the name out. "Cúthalion!"

The Tol Eressëans shouted the name over and over again and it was several minutes before there was order again. Meanwhile, Finrod had pulled Sador down and was whispering something in the ellon’s ear while the others looked on in bemusement. Manwë and Varda exchanged smiles.

Finally, the excitement of the spectators calmed and there was a discussion going on between Eönwë, the marshals, Beleg, Mithlas and Aldarion. What was being said, none could say, but at last there were nods all around and both Mithlas and Aldarion gave Beleg a brief bow. Then, the target was being moved back to the yellow pennant and now a silver disc, barely seen, was being attached to the target. Aldarion stepped up and carefully took aim. He would only have the one shot. Everyone heard the ping of the arrowhead hitting the disc but on close examination it could be seen that it had only grazed the upper edge of the metal rather than hitting true. Aldarion scowled but Beleg and Mithlas hugged him, attempting to mollify him as the marshals moved the target back to the green pennant.

Then it was Mithlas’ turn. Again, it was as if the entire world had gone still, holding its breath, waiting to see how the Sinda would fare. He nocked the arrow and was about to draw when Beleg stepped forward and laid a hand on the ellon’s arm. Mithlas looked at his friend in surprise. Then Beleg said something and soon they were both examining the arrow. Mithlas nodded when Beleg pointed something out and he reached for a different arrow, dropping the first arrow into Beleg’s palm. Now he stepped up again and released and there was a dull ringing sound as the arrow pierced the disc.

Everyone stood up and cheered. Beleg, Mithlas and Aldarion all hugged and then hugged Gilvagor and the ellith, before the six of them headed towards the viewing gallery. Ingwë raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Beleg isn’t shooting," he stated.

Manwë shook his head. "After that demonstration Mithlas and Aldarion agreed that he was the winner and this round was just to determine which of the two of them would take second prize."

As the archers approached the gallery, Ingwë and Elindis stood. The archers gave them their obeisance.

"We offer our congratulations to you all," Ingwë said formally. "You have given us much pleasure in watching you demonstrate your skills, but more importantly you have shown us your courtesy and your friendship towards one another and we are well pleased at this. May you continue to offer us an example of right conduct towards one another as you have shown throughout this competition. You have our deepest respect."

He and Elindis bowed and all the other elves in the gallery stood and followed suit. Then they stepped back as Manwë and Varda stood. The Elder King looked upon the six archers with solemn joy in his expression. "I will not repeat myself, for all that I have said concerning those who have been fighting in the list applies to you as well. You, too, have our respect, but more importantly, you also have our love."

He and Varda bowed to the archers and all the other Valar and Maiar followed them. Then, before anyone could say or do aught, Vána and Oromë walked across the field to stand beside Beleg, who looked upon them with equanimity. Vána smiled at the ellon, then looked up at the gallery, gesturing to Finrod and Glorfindel to join them. Sador and Ingwion came as well.

"Did I not promise you, child," she said to Beleg, "that there would be those who would greet you and welcome you home when they were able?"

Beleg blushed slightly, looking incredibly young for all that he was perhaps as old as Ingwion. "Thank you, Lady," he whispered.

Oromë then took Sador’s hand and smiled at his protégé. "And here is one who will be as a brother to you as well." He introduced Sador to Beleg and the former marchwarden of Doriath stared at the younger ellon, eyeing Sador’s single warrior’s braid.

"You... you are the grandson of Mallor, Lord Celeborn’s personal guard."

Sador nodded. "Yes," he said simply.

"He is also our gwedyr," Finrod then said, "as are you, mellon nîn."

"Gwedyr," Beleg sighed.

"And more than gwedyr," Glorfindel stated, giving the erstwhile marchwarden a hug. "Henair e-gûr."

Finrod nodded in approval. "Aye. Henair e-gûr," he echoed, then he hugged Beleg in turn. "Welcome back to Life, hanar nîn," he whispered in Beleg’s ear and the Sinda started weeping with joy. Finrod merely held him and rocked him gently. Then, Sador started to softly sing an ancient lullaby and soon Glorfindel and Finrod joined him while everyone else looked on with varying degrees of approval.

Thus the archery competition ended with a returned Beleg Cúthalion as the winner, followed by Mithlas, Aldarion, Marilla, Gilvagor and Elemmirë.

****

Rangar: (Quenya) Plural of ranga: a linear measure equivalent to a yard; actually 38 inches. Thus the meadow is about a fourth of a mile wide.

Hísilia: (Quenya) elvish rope, literally "mist-thread" [hísië (stem hísi-) + lia]. The Sindarin form is hithlain.

Atan: (Quenya) Man, human; the plural is atani. The Sindarin forms are adan and edain, respectively.

Henair e-gûr: (Sindarin) Brothers of the heart.

Note concerning Beleg Cúthalion: For those of you scratching your heads, Beleg was introduced in Chapter 3, "Return to Innocence". He, along with Saeros and Finduilas, was Glorfindel’s first playmate in Mandos after Finrod. There is no physical description of the marchwarden that I could find, so for purposes of this story, I have given him silver-grey hair, inspired by the beautiful painting by ilxwing which can be found at: http://ilxwing.deviantart.com/art/Beleg-64802998

Her renderings of Finrod and Glorfindel are also quite exquisite. Turindil, in case you’re wondering, is Quenya meaning "Túrin’s friend".