13: In Which Finrod Runs Away and Glorfindel Sails Away

Manwë did not appear the next morning or even the day after. In the meantime, Finrod and Glorfindel saw and spoke to no one else, not even Námo, though baskets of food and other supplies appeared outside their tent every morning. In fact, Manwë waited three days before making an appearance, for Glorfindel kept getting upset every time he thought about what the Valar had done to him (or what he thought they might have done to him) and he would go into a tirade, stomping away from their camp to stare up the cleft of the mountain where the road to Ilmarin would normally have been. Finrod suspected his gwador was contemplating climbing the mountain, though whether in defiance or simply out of curiosity, he did not know, nor did he think Glorfindel knew either. Námo’s revelation had shaken them both, though for different reasons. In the meantime, he held his peace, knowing that Glorfindel needed to come to terms with things on his own, but he was fast losing his patience, for he was anxious to learn what the Elder King would tell them and he desperately wanted to return home.

It was on the evening of the third day when Finrod finally had enough. As he had done the previous two evenings at sunset, Glorfindel stood on the promontory facing west, staring relentlessly at the spot where Finrod had insisted Eärendil's Star shone, though he saw nothing in particular save some faintly shining stars. And as he had done every evening he asked the same questions.

"Is it still there?" was the first question he always asked.

Finrod sighed, knowing what would follow. This time he didn’t bother to wait for the other questions to come pouring out of his brother’s mouth. "Yes it is, no I don’t and you’ll just have to wait until Lord Manwë comes and tells you himself."

Glorfindel spun around in surprise at Finrod’s tone. "And if you don’t stop acting like a spoiled elfling of ten," Finrod added, his tone becoming almost as cold and forbidding as Lord Námo’s was wont to be, "he will never come, you will never get your answers and neither one of us will ever go home again!"

Now it was Finrod’s turn to stomp away, leaving a bewildered Glorfindel behind. "Finda! No, wait!"

Finrod ignored Glorfindel’s pleas, moving away as quickly as he could. In fact, he suddenly felt the need to be away from his brother and the camp and everything. His fëa felt too large for his hröa and he feared he would burst if he did not do something. He headed down the slope of the promontory to the plain below them and as soon as he reached the meadowland he started running, running where he neither knew nor cared, he merely ran, initially heading west but essentially letting the topography of the land guide him. All the confusion and worry and trying to remain calm in the face of the unknown, Glorfindel’s incessant whining — yes, whining! — and concern for his family and friends was taking its toll and he just had had enough.

The stars bloomed like flowers overhead as the evening deepened into night and still he ran, heedless of his path or the tears now running down his face. He only stopped when he tripped over a half-buried rock, coming down hard upon the ground so that his breath was knocked out of him. For a moment or two, he just lay there, trying to catch his breath, and then everything came crashing down on him and he began to weep in earnest, curling himself up as if he were an elfling seeking comfort. Some part of him was appalled at his reaction but that was just a small part and he allowed himself to weep out his grief and fear. How long he lay there he was not sure. It was only as the tears began to abate that he was even aware that he was not alone. Someone knelt beside him, rubbing his back. He swiped at the tears on his face to better see who was there, turning over to find himself looking up into the calm face of Lord Manwë himself.

"Are you feeling better, child?" the Elder King asked quietly, lifting the ellon to a sitting position, but letting Finrod rest against his chest, giving him additional comfort.

Finrod did not know how to respond to that question, for his heart ached and his mind was numb. He sighed a bit, giving a sort of hiccup in reply as he continued sniffling, letting the Elder King’s presence bring him to a state of calm. He could almost feel himself drifting towards sleep and snuggled a little closer in Manwë’s arms. The Elder King chuckled and rose from his knees, bringing Finrod with him. He gazed into the ellon’s eyes, and Finrod sensed nothing but love and concern in that gaze.

"Your otorno has been something of a trial to you, hasn’t he?" Manwë asked with a smile.

"If he’d been in my service when I was king of Nargothrond," Finrod replied, "I would have paid Morgoth to take him off my hands."

Manwë chuckled at that, giving Finrod a brief hug. "And no doubt, my Fallen Brother would have taken one look at him and then politely refused your kind offer."

That set Finrod snickering as a particular image flashed across his mind and he felt himself relaxing. Manwë nodded to himself, and let the ellon go. "Why don’t we go find our favorite Balrog-slayer and see if we can’t clear some things up?"

Finrod nodded, feeling suddenly foolish for having run away as he had, but Manwë merely shook his head. "You needed release from your feelings of powerlessness and the only other alternative would have been to pound Glorfindel into the ground. I think you chose the better way."

"I would have, too, if I’d stayed there any longer. Does he not think I have not been feeling the same as he? All he could think about was his feelings and his questions without ever once considering what grief and worry I might be experiencing."

"Oh, he’s not as heartless as all that," Manwë stated as they started walking. "He is still rather young though and I think he’s been acting out more."

"I can’t keep up with him," Finrod complained. "One minute he’s acting like he’s twenty-five, the next minute he’s the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower and Eru help you if you cross him."

"You weren’t much different when you were first released from the Fëanturi’s domains," Manwë pointed out in a reasonable tone. "I believe there was one particular instance when you were swinging upside down on a tree branch one minute and then acting very much the King of Nargothrond the next when one of your atar’s courtiers said something he shouldn’t have in your presence."

Finrod blushed, though it was too dark for even Manwë to see. "Atar didn’t know if he should punish me or praise me for that."

"In the end, he did neither, and that was the wisest course for him to take," Manwë said, "allowing you to find your own way between the two extremes."

"And I should do the same for Glorfindel," Finrod stated with a sigh, understanding what the Elder King was saying.

"Unlike you," Manwë continued, "Glorfindel has had a rather rough first year since being released from Irmo’s care, so his reactions to events are necessarily colored by all that has happened to him." He gave Finrod a quiet chuckle. "In fact, I suspect your otorno is wondering if we Valar hate him, considering all that has happened to him lately."

"One has to wonder sometimes," Finrod replied with a straight face.

Manwë smiled. "The truth is, we can’t keep up with him either. Námo and Irmo keep laying bets as to which way Glorfindel will jump next and half the time they’re both wrong."

Now Finrod actually laughed out loud, much of his sorrow and anxiety lifting. "I’m not surprised," he said.

They continued walking in companionable silence for a time. Finrod was surprised to see how far he had run, for there was no sign of the mountains. In fact, from the position of the stars, he could see they were walking northeast. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Ah, well, if this were Aman proper," Manwë replied, "we would just be coming to the courtyard of the Laughing Vala."

Finrod stopped in amazement. "I ran all the way to Valmar?"

"Or where Valmar would be if this were Aman," Manwë replied.

"So this isn’t Aman?" Finrod asked in confusion.

"It is and it isn’t," the Elder King said, placing a hand on the ellon’s shoulder to compel him to continue walking. "However, I am not about to explain it to you or Glorfindel. Not even the Maiar know of this place and so we will keep it a secret for now."

Finrod wanted to ask more questions but he didn’t know where to start, so he kept silent and for the remainder of the trip back to the camp the two of them walked for the most part without speaking, though at one point Finrod did ask after his family and Manwë told him what was happening back home. Thus, it was nearing dawn when the two arrived at the promontory and climbed up to the camp to find Glorfindel weeping in Námo’s arms.

****

Glorfindel watched in disbelief as Finrod strode away in high dudgeon. "Finda! Please, come back, gwador!" he cried, starting to run after the Noldorin prince, but something in his brother’s demeanor stopped him and he watched helplessly as Finrod fled. "Please," he whispered forlornly, "don’t leave me alone."

He fell dejectedly to his knees not sure what he should do next. For the longest time he simply knelt there, staring in the direction Finrod had fled. Finally, he rose and returned to the camp, idly adding more wood to the fire. He glanced westward and anger began to fill him.

"Why can’t I see you?" he fairly yelled. "Why can’t I see you?" The unfairness of it all, the sense of betrayal and utter confusion that he felt was just too much and he simply stood there, fists clenched at his side, and shouted defiantly, "Damn the Valar and... and Eru, too!" He started screaming in pure rage, finally collapsing to the ground, feeling suddenly weak and dizzy. He closed his eyes as the universe seemed to do a slow spin and perhaps he even fainted....

****

*Glorfindel, wake up.*

Someone was calling to him, though he did not recognize the voice and even behind his closed eyelids he sensed a brightening around him that did not speak of sunlight. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking around, and gasped in wonder.

Docked against the edge of the promontory was a ship. It was exquisitely crafted with clean lines. Its hull was made of mithril and vírin and a wavering flame, pure and bright, filled it. There was no sign of a helmsman nor were there any sails.

*Get in the ship, Child of Mine,* he heard in his mind and wonder turned instantly to fear, for he knew not what it might portend. *Fear not, best beloved,* the mysterious voice said. *No harm will come to thee.*

Slowly, Glorfindel stood and walked towards the ship, noticing that a gangplank spanned the gap between ship and cliff’s edge. He found himself boarding, walking as if in a daze. He thought perhaps he was dreaming, for there was an element of unreality to it all, yet the ship felt solid enough under his feet.

As soon as he stepped upon the deck, the gangplank somehow disappeared and, before he could comprehend what was happening, the ship smoothly set sail. Glorfindel panicked at that moment, flinging himself at the railing, meaning to jump ship, but to his horror he could no longer see the campsite; the ship was already sailing above the clouds.

He screamed at the sight of the earth vanishing into the night as the ship climbed towards the stars. He clung to the railing and he found himself becoming violently ill. When he had emptied his stomach, he collapsed onto the deck, cowering and weeping quietly. He felt someone stroking his head though there was no one there that he could see.

*Be at peace, Child of Mine,* the voice said gently. *All is well. Go thou to the barrel near the center mast and drink of its contents. It will help settle thy stomach.*

Glorfindel didn’t trust himself to stand up, so he crawled across the smooth deck towards the barrel where he found a silver ladle hanging from its side by a nail. He stood up shakily and plunged the ladle into what appeared to be water. There was a faint glow about it as if it were reflecting the starlight that now surrounded the ship. Glorfindel took a cautious sip and sighed. It was indeed water, pure and sweet and tasting of summer. He drank more deeply until he had his fill and felt both calmer and lighter of spirit. He did not notice that the flame that seemed to fill the ship, though never burning it, now enveloped him more fully, warming him and comforting him, though he knew it not. He replaced the ladle and looked about him, wondering why he was alone on the ship.

*Not alone,* came the voice. *I am always with thee.*

Glorfindel was tempted to make a biting remark at that statement but stopped himself in time, giving a shrug and working his way forward to where the helm was. He was sailing amongst the stars and he wondered why he was not gibbering in a corner in fear.

*That would hardly do,* the voice said with a chuckle. *It’s rather difficult to hold a conversation with someone who is gibbering.*

Glorfindel had to smile at that, then he ventured to speak his own thoughts. "Who are you? Where am I going?"

*All in good time, Child of Mine,* came the reply and Glorfindel sighed, recognizing the tone. It was the same one Lord Námo used or even Ingwë and he knew he would get no further answers. He remained by the helm and watched the universe slip by, his eyes drinking in wonders beyond his ken. Soon, however, he found himself yawning and feeling sleepy.

*Rest,* came the voice. *The voyage is long. I will wake thee when thou’st arrived.*

"Arrive where?" he asked, trying to stifle another yawn. He discovered a pallet and blankets nearby and stumbled to them, curling up. He was asleep before he ever heard the answer, if any was ever given. Thus, he was unaware when the ship sailed serenely through a wall of flames that reached into infinity....

****

The feeling of being gently rocked woke him and he was amazed that he had slept with his eyes closed. He sat up and looked around but saw nothing except the ship. Standing and going to the railing he saw that the ship was now sailing on water, water so clear he could see to the very bottom. Light was all around but there was no sun. He wondered how the ship could move without sails to catch the breeze that smelled, not of salt, but of... something green, he decided, though he could not put a name to it. He did not feel any hunger but realized he was thirsty again, so he made his way aft to the barrel and drank some more water, feeling refreshed as he had never felt before.

Now the ship was sailing through a garden of water lilies, bright yellow against dark green lily pads. They did not seem to impede the ship which sailed through them with silent grace. And that was what Glorfindel began to notice — the absolute silence that surrounded him. There was not even the swish of waves hitting the side of the ship as it sliced through the water. He felt disinclined to speak out loud and tried to make as little noise as possible as he returned to the helm.

Ahead he espied what appeared to be land and soon the ship ran aground upon a beach of purest white sand and he saw a mountain towering behind the dunes. Strange trees with wide fronds rather than true leaves covered the ground between the beach and the mountain. Glorfindel simply stood there drinking it all in, not sure what else to do, for there was no one in sight.

*The water is shallow,* he finally heard the voice bespeak him. *Come ashore and make for the mountain.*

There was an air of command to the tone of the speaker that brooked no dissent and Glorfindel found himself leaping over the railing into the water, which came to his waist. It was warm and he felt almost as if he were wading through liquid sunlight and was unsurprised, when, upon reaching the shore, he found himself still dry. He shaded his eyes against the bright glare and noticed a break in the heavy foliage indicating a possible path. He made his way towards it and soon found himself walking a narrow way between the strange trees. All about him were huge flowers, mostly red in color, but sometimes yellow shading towards orange. They were like no flowers he had ever seen before and he stopped to sniff one. Its scent was spicy and it tickled his nose. Continuing, he began to notice movement in the trees and saw birds, small with iridescent green plumes and absurdly blue legs. Their tails were elongated and their song was high and sweet. Then a host of butterflies floated serenely across his path, disappearing into the dense forest.

The path climbed towards the mountain, a jagged purple spire, its lower slopes covered with forest. Across the face of the mountain the path wound its way upward and soon he realized that he was on an island. As he made his way around the mountainside he could see the grey ship sitting quietly in what he now could see was a shallow cove. Upward he climbed until he was about halfway to the summit and found himself facing the entrance to a cave.

He stopped, not sure he really wanted to enter the dark, but he sensed a gentle caress upon his cheek that had nothing to do with what little breeze there was and he knew there was naught to fear. Squaring his shoulders he entered the cave and sighed with relief at the sudden coolness. His eyes took a few minutes to adjust and then he realized that the cave was far from dark, though its light was much dimmer than the outside. Neither was it a cave, but an immense cavern.

He stood in amazement at the beauty he saw there, the exquisitely fluted columns carved in the likeness of giant trees and the gems that glittered on the ceiling like stars. He remembered the descriptions of Menegroth and Nargothrond that Finrod had given him and had the feeling that their beauty paled in comparison. As he walked further into the cavern he saw that light streamed from above and realized the mountain was hollow. In the center of the cavern, bathed with light was a table covered with white linen. On the table was a single crystal decanter and a goblet. There were two chairs and one was occupied.

Glorfindel had a sudden memory of the Elder King sitting under an arbor in the Gardens of the Reborn and for a brief second wondered if this were Lord Manwë, but then the figure gestured him forward and spoke, and he realized it was not. "Come closer, Child of Mine, and join Me."

He ventured closer and saw Someone who had the appearance of one of the Valar, but not. He saw one whose hair was the shade of burnished copper, his eyes the deep green of Ulmo’s realm. He wore a floor-length tunic of figured silk that seemed mostly blue, though Glorfindel detected shades of rose and violet and yellow that seemed to shift in no discernable pattern, reminding him of the iridescent robe Lord Manwë had worn the day he sent Glorfindel to Lórien.

Instinctively, he gave the Being a bow and straightening found himself looking into eyes the color of topaz and now the Person’s hair was a dark mahogany that sparkled with gems. The tunic was still blue though, and Glorfindel sighed with relief. The Being smiled and gestured for him to take a seat and poured some wine from the decanter into the crystal goblet.

"Drink and be refreshed," He said and Glorfindel did as he was told, savoring the cool wine as it slid smoothly down his throat. The Being now sported hair the color of ripened wheat while the eyes were now the blue of a summer sky. The tunic had also changed from blue to a deep brown shot with threads of gold. The face, however, remained the same, as did the smile.

"I know thou hast many questions, Glorfindel," He said, "but I did not bring thee here to be questioned by thee."

"Why am I here, lord?" Glorfindel asked meekly.

"Because I wished to speak to thee face to face, although, that is not strictly true."

Glorfindel gave his Companion a confused look and was rewarded with a brilliant smile framed by hair the black of midnight with eyes grey as a winter sky. Now the tunic was also black, trimmed with diamonds.

"What thou’rt experiencing is not real," the Person said. "Or rather it is an order of reality that thy conscious mind is unable to accept. All that thou’rt seeing is a construct for thy benefit."

"Like Lord Irmo’s maze," Glorfindel said.

"Indeed," the Being said. "It is something like that."

"Then, I never left the promontory, did I?" the ellon asked, feeling somehow cheated.

"I never said that," came the answer. "I said thy conscious mind is unable to accept this reality, but thy fëa can."

Glorfindel stood up in surprise. "I’m here in fëa?" he exclaimed. "You mean I’m dead?"

The Being raised a hand. "Nay, Glorfindel, put thy mind at ease on that score. Thou’rt not dead, far from it. Now sit down and listen to what I would say to thee."

Glorfindel sat, only slightly mollified. He took another sip or two of the wine and found himself calming. The Person nodded in satisfaction. "That is better," He said, His eyes now a warm hazel while His hair was white as snow. The tunic was also white trimmed with sapphires. "I think we need an understanding, thou and I."

"L-lord Námo said the same thing," Glorfindel remarked, looking somewhat fearful, wondering if he was about to be chastised for his recent behavior. He well remembered his reaction the last time Lord Námo had reprimanded him.

"My son hath learnt his own lessons well," the Being said with a gentle smile and Glorfindel felt his eyebrows rise at that, dimly beginning to understand just Who was sitting across from him. "I know thou’rt angry at My sons and daughters for what they did to thee, hiding the knowledge of Eärendil from thee as they did. They had their reasons and I did not forbid it, though I knew it would avail them naught in the end."

"But why?" Glorfindel demanded plaintively. "Why did they... what did they do, exactly?"

"I will leave it to My vice-gerent to explain it to thee, Child of Mine," the Being said, now dressed in shades of gold and scarlet while His hair was the color of fire and His eyes were the purple of amethysts. "What I will say to thee is this: put aside thine anger. Neither thy rage nor thy cursing doth thee credit, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel glowered at his wine, not wishing to give up his indignation at what had been done to him. He felt violated in a way that was different from what he had felt at the hands of Tulcaner and his lackeys. "They raped me," he said as tears threatened.

"Nay, Child of Mine, they did not. What they did do was seek to protect thee from thyself and thine oaths." The Being reached over and put a finger under Glorfindel’s chin, making him look up. Glorfindel saw nothing but love in the blue-green eyes staring back at him. "Thou’rt an impossible Child, Glorfindel. Even I find it difficult to keep up with thee. All that has been done has been done for thy good, never doubt that. My first Children do not always act wisely, but they strive to do My Will in all things. Never doubt their love for thee... nor Mine."

Glorfindel nodded as the Person released him and he took another sip of the wine. He thought about what had been said and realized that he had been judging the Valar and condemning them without benefit of a fair hearing. He recalled the times when Turgon had admonished him for being unwilling to hear the other person’s story before passing judgment. He remembered being forced to spend two weeks witnessing Turgon’s courts as they adjudicated cases and then having the king quiz him on what he had witnessed and what he had learned. He grimaced to himself at that memory. It seemed he had forgotten that lesson in the intervening centuries while he languished in Mandos.

"I would hardly call it languishing," the Being said with a knowing smile, "though I suspect my son Námo was counting down the days and the hours before he could release thee from his care."

"Sador thinks Lord Námo threw a party the day I left," Glorfindel retorted with a grin.

His Companion smiled warmly, pleased with this Child, so impetuous yet giving and loyal to a fault. Glorfindel had a difficult road ahead of him, and much of it was fraught with danger and darkness, but he would prevail and in the end he would take his place among the great lords of his people.

"Thou also must not be angry with thy gwador," the Being admonished gently. "He doth not deserve thine ire."

Glorfindel sighed. "I know. I’ve been acting very childish. Everything is just so strange."

"I know," the Person said solicitously. "Yet, thou and thy brother are warriors true and ye have it in ye both to see your way through this conundrum."

"You’re not going to tell us how to get home, are you?" Glorfindel asked shrewdly.

"But what is the fun of that, Child of Mine?" his Companion said with a laugh. His hair had returned to its original copper color but His eyes were once again hazel. His tunic now shimmered a deep forest green shot with silver paling to a light olive with hints of aquamarine and coral. "I am enjoying this too much."

Glorfindel gave the Being a sour look, then sighed. Truly, why would he expect anyone to help them? He and Finrod had gotten themselves into this mess, it was only meet that they get themselves out of it. The Person stood then and Glorfindel followed suit. "Come now," He said, beginning to walk towards the cavern entrance, "it is time for thee to return to thy gwador. I will escort thee back to the ship."

"That ship," Glorfindel said with some awe as he followed his Companion out of the cavern. "Is that...?"

"That is Vingilot," the Being answered with a nod.

"Why did I not see Eärendil then?" Glorfindel asked. "Why wasn’t he aboard?"

The Being stopped and gave Glorfindel an amused smile. "Oh, I borrowed it from him. He’s presently visiting his wife, Elwing."

"Does he truly sail through the heavens?" Glorfindel asked skeptically as they continued walking the path down the mountain and into the forest. "I think that’s a rather cruel fate for anyone, to be forced to sail the heavens alone for all time."

"Oh, Eärendil only sailed Vingilot for a short time as a sign of hope to the beleaguered peoples of Endórë while the Valar created a more permanent sign for you Children, though every once in a while he saileth it so that he might look once more upon Middle-earth which he hath ever loved."

"Well, if that’s true, why would the Valar..."

"As I said, My vice-gerent will answer thy questions concerning Eärendil." There was that in the Person’s tone that alerted Glorfindel and he refrained from asking any more questions.

Soon they were at the cove and Glorfindel was directed to climb a rope ladder that now appeared on the side of the crystal-hulled ship. He clambered aboard and looked down upon the One, now with light brown hair and blue-grey eyes wearing a warm yellow tunic trimmed with peridots.

"When thou return’st to thy proper sphere thou’lt find thy brother waiting for thee. Farewell, Child of Mine, and I trust I will not have to arrange another such meeting between us, will I?"

Glorfindel shook his head, feeling himself go pale at the implied reprimand. "No, my lord, I... I’ll endeavor to never cause you to... er... summon me again."

"That is well, Child of Mine. Namárië, Glorfindel. Remember’st always My love for thee."

Then the One was gone, and the island and indeed everything save the ship. As before, Glorfindel found himself suddenly yawning and laid himself upon the pallet by the helm and slept. At one point he rolled over and felt grass under his fingers. Opening his eyes (and why was he sleeping with his eyes closed like an elfling, he wondered?) he found himself staring up into the midnight sky. Raising himself, he saw that he was alone. The fire had burned down somewhat and he shivered from the cold that had seeped into his bones.

"Finrod!" he called out. "Brother! Are you here?" He went over and stoked the fire so as to give himself more warmth and light. There was no sign of anyone. "He’s coming back," he muttered to himself. "It’s only been a few hours. He’ll be back soon."

But as the stars danced their stately pavane throughout the night and dawn approached there was still no sign of Finrod. Glorfindel began pacing, muttering to himself, desperately trying to convince himself that Finrod would return, that his brother would not desert him. "He said Finrod would be here, he would be waiting for me. Why isn’t he here, then? Where is he?"

There was no answer and finally, he sat before the fire feeling bereft, wondering if he had driven Finrod from him forever. He felt tears wash down his cheeks and he began to weep.

"Child, whatever is the matter?"

Glorfindel looked up to see Námo standing on the other side of the fire, his expression one of concern. Without speaking, he stood and went to the Vala who opened his arms to him. Thus, it was that when Manwë and Finrod showed up a few minutes later, he was weeping in Námo’s arms while the Lord of Mandos rocked him, trying to give him some comfort.

****

Vírin: "A magical glassy substance of great lucency used in fashioning the Moon. Used of things of great and pure transparency." [Lost Tales 2, pg. 339]

"To be mythologically precise... the Evening (or Morning) Star is a transparent boat steered by E[ärendil] allowing the light of the Silmaril to be seen." [Parma Eldalamberon 17, pg. 19]

"A ship then new they built for him/of mithril and of elven-glass/with shining prow; no shaven oar/nor sail she bore on silver mast:/the Silmaril as lantern light/and banner bright with living flame/to gleam thereon by Elbereth/herself was set...." [Eärendil Was a Mariner, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 1, "Many Meetings"]