141: Songs of Power and Glory

Glorfindel and Finrod reached the center of the list and gave their obeisance towards the royal gallery, then bowed to Eönwë. There were no introductions or explanations. Indeed, none were needed. All knew the stakes. The two ellyn squared off and gave each other bows before going into their en guarde positions.

As before, they circled one another, testing each other’s defenses and weaknesses. There was barely a sound from the spectators as they all watched, waiting for the first blow. It was not long in coming. Suddenly, Finrod swung his sword in a complicated pattern that the uninitiated found hard to follow though several Tol Eressëan warriors nodded in approval, and then Glorfindel was soon hard-pressed to block the sword as it came spinning down towards him. Not only did he manage to block the sword but he was able to land a blow on Finrod’s shield as the prince stepped back from the attack. Then the match began in earnest.

Ingwë, looking on, closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. Elindis, noticing, placed a solicitous hand on his arm.

"What is it, my husband? Art thou ill?" she asked, her tone one more of surprise than worry.

Ingwë shook his head and opened his eyes, his expression rueful. "Nay, my beloved," he assured her. "I am well. I just need to remember to be careful what I wish for from now on."

Elindis gave her lord and husband a quizzical look which made Ingwë chuckle. "All week I’ve been hoping to see Glorfindel fight for real. Now that he is, though, I find that I’ve changed my mind."

The High Queen of all the Elves raised an eyebrow at Ingwë in disbelief, then rolled her eyes and sighed mightily as she turned her attention back to the tournament. "Neri!" she muttered in disgust and the other ellith sniggered in agreement, while the older ellyn gave each other sheepish smiles. Beleg and Sador, watching the exchange, looked at each other then shrugged almost as one before turning back to the fighting, being more interested in how their gwedyr were faring against each other than what their elders were up to. The Valar and Maiar sitting in the gallery looked on with amused indulgence.

Then the tenor of the match changed. It was a subtle change, barely noticeable, but every Vala and Maia suddenly became tense, though the elves were slow to notice. Varda was the first to respond, standing up with a look of disbelief in her eyes.

"What is he doing?" she whispered in shock.

Now, several things happened at once. Just as the elves began to realize that something was wrong and Ingwë was turning to Lord Manwë for an explanation, Lord Námo was suddenly there, looking grimmer than any of them had ever seen him. Beleg even cowered in Sador’s arms, afraid that he might have done something wrong himself and was about to be punished. Sador took him in his embrace and quietly assured the newly Reborn that all was well and not to be afraid. The other elves looked upon the Lord of Mandos in dread and wonder, but Námo ignored them all, his gaze intent upon Manwë.

"We need to stop this match now," he said without preamble.

"Do you know what is happening?" Manwë asked, appearing calm, though only the other Valar and Maiar knew what the effort to remain thus cost the Elder King.

Námo nodded. "Findaráto isn’t fighting Glorfindel any more," he said darkly. "He’s fighting Sauron. He’s reliving his final battle against our Fallen Brother’s servant."

Sador gasped, his face gone white. He was perhaps the only elf there who understood fully the significance of Námo’s words. The Elder King frowned. "Can we stop it safely?" he asked.

"It matters not," Námo retorted. "If we don’t stop...."

There was a scream from the stands and they all looked to see what was happening on the field. All heard Finrod singing, yet it was not a normal lay, but a Song of Power. Even as he sang the air around him and Glorfindel shimmered into incandescence. All could see Eönwë motioning the elven herald and marshal away as the Song continued, bespeaking of blood and treachery, trust unbroken and secrets kept. The spectators looked on in fear and wonder as suddenly Glorfindel laughed and began his own Song, a Song of glory in battle, of friendship and oaths unending.

In after years, Beleg, who would prove to be as excellent a bard as he was an archer, would compose a lay about this very battle:

     "Findaráto chanted a song of wizardry,

     of piercing, opening,

     revealing, uncovering,

     of secrets kept,

     and trust unbroken.

     Then sudden Glorfindel there swaying

     sang in answer a song of staying,

     of friendship dear, of oaths unending.

     Battling against power,

     the mighty Balrog-slayer revealed

     strength like a tower.

     Backwards and forwards swayed their song.

     Reeling and foundering, as ever more strong

     Findaráto’s chanting swelled, Glorfindel fought,

     and all the magic and might they brought

     of Eldamar into their words.

     Softly in the gloom they heard the birds

     singing afar in Lórien,

     the sighing of the sea beyond,

     Where Ulmo holds sway, on sand,

     on the pearlescent strands of Alqualondë."

Námo turned to Manwë, his expression bleak. "We cannot stop it now," he said. "It has gone too far beyond our powers to do so without endangering their lives or the lives of everyone else."

"What are you going to do?" Arafinwë demanded as he stood, his expression one of shock and anger. "What is happening to my son, to both my sons?"

"Peace, Pityahuan," Manwë said, raising a hand, not even bothering to look at the Noldóran, his entire attention on the battle. "All will be done that can be. If we cannot stop them, we must shield them and us from the Power they are evoking."

Then, none of the Valar or Maiar were there. In seconds the entire field was surrounded by the Powers and their servants, forming a ring around the still battling ellyn who paid no attention to anything but their duel of sword and song. As one, the Valar and Maiar raised their hands and all saw shimmering curtains of light in every hue rise from the ground before them until they came together to form a dome under which Finrod and Glorfindel continued fighting.

The elves in the stands watched in shocked silence. The sense of Power they had felt with the first notes of Finrod’s Singing was lessened with the shield, yet none were unaffected. Still the two continued to battle, and the Songs continued:

     "Then the gloom gathered: Glorfindel’s words brought forth

     images of doom, of darkness unabated,

     of Balrogs enflamed and orcs amassing.

      Findaráto returned with words of hope,

     of freedom, escape, of Angband shaken

     with the loss of a single jewel upon an iron crown.

     Light and Dark strove together,

     as Sun and Moon and stars of night

     were called forth as witnesses to the

     Mahtalë-nu-Telluma-Valaron."

All this time, Finrod and Glorfindel continued fighting with sword and shield, as well as with Song, lost in the memories of their final battles. Under the dome of light they battled on, heedless of all. Ingwë could see the expressions on the faces of the Valar and Maiar and the grimness of the light that shone from their eyes was enough to shake him to the core.

"What have we wrought?" he whispered in horror to no one in particular. None who heard the question responded, for there was no answer to give.

Then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. A crescendo of Song from both ellyn rose above the Shield and with it a Flame of purest Light appeared between them, spreading outward to engulf them both. Screams from more than one throat rent the air and then...

Nothing.

Silence reigned across the list as the spectators struggled to make sense of what they saw.

Amarië suddenly screamed. "Where are they? Where are they?" before fainting in Arafinwë’s arms.

All there watched as slowly the dome of light fell away to reveal more clearly the killing ground. When the final curtain faded into nothingness, Námo walked into the center and stopped. He looked down dispassionately at the blob of metal that had once been two swords, now melted into an unrecognizable slag of iron.

Of Finrod and Glorfindel there was no sign.

****

"Ah, Finrod?" Glorfindel asked, sounding suddenly young and frightened.

"Hmmm?" Finrod answered.

"Wh-where are we?"

The two ellyn stared across a wide meadow of wildflowers stretching towards a range of impossibly high mountains. The contours of the landscape were familiar yet they were not, for there was no sign of road or city or even the encampment. They were alone.

Finrod sighed and gave Glorfindel a rueful look. "That, hánonya, is a very good question."

TO BE CONTINUED IN

Elf, Interrupted: Book Two: Glorfindel’s Quest

****

Mahtalë-nu-Telluma-Valaron: Battle-under-the-Dome-of-the-Valar, the Shield that was erected to protect the elves from the Songs of Power being sung by Finrod and Glorfindel.

Hánonya: My brother.

Note: Much of Beleg’s Lay of Finrod and Glorfindel, (in Quenya, Lirilla Findaráto ar Laurefindilo; in Sindarin, Glîr Finrod a Glorfindel) is adapted from or inspired by Canto VII of the Lay of Leithian, which can be read in its entirety in the Lays of Beleriand, HoME III. Part of this Lay can also be found in The Silmarillion, Chapter 19, ‘Of Beren and Lúthien’.