48: The Second Lesson

Glorfindel stood up suddenly, his attention riveted by something deeper in the woods. Lisselindë stared at him in consternation. "What’s wrong?" she asked.

Glorfindel did not answer immediately. Instead, he swept his gaze around, as if searching for something, but apparently when he did not find what he was looking for, he turned back to the Maia. "Would you go back to the cottage and fetch my bow and arrows?" he whispered.

"Whatever for?" she demanded, though she kept her voice low, not sure what was going on.

Glorfindel made an impatient gesture. "Will you or not? Stop wasting my time with questions I will not answer."

She stepped back, obviously stung by his words and shook her head. She was not his thrall. She didn’t have to do anything he might command of her. She would watch and listen but that was all.

Glorfindel scowled. "Fine. Stay here," he ordered and before she could even open her mouth to protest he was gone, leaping over the brook and nearly flying across the clearing into the woods to the east.

"I will not," she said to herself, now becoming more angry than alarmed. "Of all the... Impossible ellon, indeed! I will never understand them!" She sent her mind forward to see where Glorfindel had gone. She would just think herself to wherever he was though she would remain unclad. She found him racing through the woods, heedless of the underbrush or the trees, which seemed to understand his urgency and moved limbs and roots out of the ellon’s way. She was about to think herself to him when Tiutalion appeared, along with Nyéreser, who was carrying Glorfindel’s bow and quiver.

"I believe he said to stay here," Tiutalion said coldly. "You may indeed watch, but only from a distance." He then nodded to Nyéreser, who nodded back before calmly jumping the brook, running swiftly across the field in the direction Glorfindel had gone.

Lisselindë just stood there, glowering, but said nothing, merely extending her senses to keep track of the ellon and the Maia, who, in spite of the fact that Glorfindel had had a good lead, was nearly caught up with him.

****

Glorfindel heard a twig snap behind him and whirled, flexing his right arm in such a way that a knife fell easily into his hand, then going into a defensive crouch all in one fluid movement. Aman or not, he was too much the warrior not to go armed, even if it was only with a knife. While others would consider this to be impolite or against all protocol, especially when in the presence of the Valar, he did not care and was not about to change his warrior habits even for them. While he wasn’t so foolish as to wear any weapons openly, unless specifically asked to do so, he wasn’t about to enlighten anyone about the weapons that were hidden about his person. The Valar and Maiar probably knew, but in his estimation, they did not really count; it was the Amaneldi from whom he kept such things secret. He rose from his crouch, sheathing his knife when he saw Nyéreser coming towards him and realized that the Maia had deliberately stepped on the twig to alert him to his presence. Nyéreser smiled knowingly as he came to a stop before him, handing him his bow and quiver.

"I believe you wanted these," the Maia said.

Glorfindel could only nod his thanks as he slipped the quiver over his shoulder then took the bow, expertly stringing it, silently resuming his run with the Maia easily keeping up with him. He was grateful that Nyéreser did not seek to question him or stop him. He was not sure why, but need drove him and he had learned long ago not to question such urgings; too often they had saved his life, or the lives of others.

Now, the vague sounds of distress that had alerted Glorfindel became clearer and louder as he and Nyéreser leapt over a fallen tree and ran into another clearing, stopping just long enough to take in the scene. Glorfindel found himself blanching at the sight. Before him was a pack of silver-backed wolves, perhaps the very pack with whom he had run some time before. There was also a small herd of deer, but what stunned him was not that the wolves were attacking the deer, but rather attacking something else, or rather, several somethings, monsters the like of which the ellon had never seen, not even in his darkest nightmares.

It took him a stunned moment to see that the wolves were actually protecting the deer. Then, he pushed all that aside. In the split second it took him to take in the scene he had already loosed two arrows into the closest of the monsters and was nocking a third. They were hideous creatures, with long curved upper canines. They appeared vaguely feline but their coats were shaggy and they were half again the size of the largest of the wolves. There was a glimmer of unexpected intelligence in their eyes, an intelligence that was purely evil, that left him with the same sick feeling he had had just before he had leapt off the precipice to attack the balrog.

There were many more of the feline monsters than he had originally thought and not all his arrows found their targets. Wolves and the one stag among the deer herd, fought to bring down the felines, but only one of the monsters was down, obviously gored by the stag’s antlers. Two wolves and one of the does were down as well. Glorfindel did not know if the wolves had originally been attacking the deer when the monsters came upon them and he didn’t much care. He understood the ways of nature and would not have interfered with the natural order of things, but the feline monsters were obviously unnatural.

By now, some of the monsters had realized that they had a new threat and two of them left off their attack on the wolves and deer and went for him, flanking him so that he knew that if he shot at one the other would take him. He glanced at the Maia standing beside him.

"A little help would be appreciated," he said conversationally.

"And it is arriving even as we speak," Nyéreser replied serenely.

Even before Glorfindel could muster a retort, a horn rang out in the distance, its notes silvery clear and sweet, yet there was an undertone of darkness to it that tugged at Glorfindel’s fëa. He gasped unconsciously, feeling his blood pulse with a heat that he had experienced only once before when he had run with the wolves. He felt Nyéreser lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Steady," the Maia whispered and Glorfindel could feel the heat abate somewhat and he shuddered with an effort to keep himself focused.

If the animals still fighting heard the horn they gave no sign. If anything the ferociousness of their attacks grew. Again the horn sounded and then through the woods came a troop of Maiar, all on foot, carrying spears. With them came Oromë astride Nahar. It was he who had wound the horn. As soon as they entered the clearing, the Maiar gave bloodcurdling yells and leapt into the fray. Nyéreser held Glorfindel back.

"Do not move," he whispered and then suddenly a spear that was at least a foot longer than Glorfindel was tall was in the Maia’s hand. With a yell of his own, Nyéreser rushed at the feline that was on Glorfindel’s right. At the same moment the one on his left leapt but was skewered by a spear thrown by one of the other Maiar. Glorfindel found himself stepping back a pace or two and was not surprised to see the wolves and deer also retreating to the edge of the clearing as they all watched the Maiar fight against the monsters.

It was something he would never forget. As consummate a warrior as he was, Glorfindel realized he was but a babe-in-arms in comparison to the Maiar attacking the monsters. He watched as Nyéreser, the only one of the Maiar he knew, attacked three of the felines at once, his movements a blur even to the Elf. Unlike the wolves though, the Maiar’s attacks were without any heat, without any rage behind them. Their faces were without expression, their eyes burning with a coldness that defied anything Glorfindel had ever witnessed before. Even the balrog had been filled with fury, a fury that matched his own at the time. Glorfindel suddenly realized a truth he had avoided recognizing until then: the Maiar whom he had fought, even those who had beaten him into a pulp somewhere on the slopes of the Pelóri to get him to speak about his feelings of anger towards Ingwë, had been holding back, fighting him at his level, not theirs.

It was a sobering thought, yet at the same time almost liberating. He felt something open up inside him, something was freed within him, and he felt a tension he did not even know existed melt away, leaving him feeling suddenly weak. He found himself collapsing on the ground, his head swimming. Then, someone was there, kneeling before him and he looked up into the eyes of Lord Oromë, warm with concern.

"Are you well, child?" the Vala asked.

Glorfindel stared at Oromë, trying to gather his scattered wits. "I... I am not sure," he whispered and that very uncertainty sent him into a state of panic, his breathing shallowing and becoming rapid. Almost at once, he felt rather than saw Nyéreser kneeling beside him, gently rubbing his back while Oromë pulled a flask from his belt and handed it to him. "Drink this," he commanded and Glorfindel took the flask and drank. It was miruvórë. Even with the first sip Glorfindel could feel his world righting itself again and he became calm, his breathing slowing.

He handed back the flask with a nod of thanks and Oromë smiled. "I did not think the sight of my People battling these monsters would upset you so, child."

Glorfindel took a deep breath. "I’ve been arrogant, haven’t I?" he asked forlornly.

Oromë sat back on his heels, gazing at the ellon who now could not look the Vala in the eye. Oromë exchanged a glance with Nyéreser, who shrugged while still rubbing Glorfindel’s back. Oromë turned his attention back to the elf. "Arrogant in what way?" he asked.

The former Lord of the House of the Golden Flower sighed. "The Maiar have been playing with me, haven’t they? I thought... but having seen these Maiar in battle... was it like this during the War of Wrath? No one has ever said."

There was almost a plaintive tone to the question and Oromë realized what the ellon was babbling about. "Glorfindel," he said gently, "you are perhaps the greatest swordsman in all of Arda. I think only Findaráto can claim to be your equal. The Maiar... well, they were fighting Melkor’s minions for uncounted ages before Arda was ever created. You have never truly seen any of us, Maiar or Valar, fight when in our true forms. None of the Eruhíni have and indeed they never will. To do so would destroy you utterly. You have no concept of the powers we Ainur truly possess. I say this not to belittle you, for you are full worthy of respect from us, but to point out the fundamental difference between we who are created spiritual beings and you who are the mirroanwi."

"So I did not really defeat Lord Manwë’s Maiar," Glorfindel said, feeling deflated.

"I never said that," Oromë replied with a smile. "I said you have never seen us fight in our natural forms and using our full powers which, if we employed them, would rip this world apart, literally. Do not belittle yourself, child. Do you seriously think that balrog you fought was holding back? I assure you it wasn’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. If you are arrogant, it is with reason and I and my People respect you as the warrior you are and always will be."

Glorfindel swallowed, still looking pale. "I guess this time it was my turn to have a lesson, wasn’t it?"

Oromë gave him a considering look. "It depends on what you take away from this. If you believe that we Valar and the Maiar are laughing behind your back, then you are mistaken. If you go away knowing that there are forces and powers greater than your own, powers that fight alongside you as comrades, as macilhánor, if you will, who respect your own prowess as a warrior, then, yes, that is certainly a lesson worth learning."

"You are not alone in your fight against evil, Glorfindel," Nyéreser interjected. "None of you are. You have comrades who fight beside you, often invisible or in forms more like to the mirroanwi, but there nonetheless. Those of us who fought in the War of Wrath did so clad in the forms of the Children, not as a sign of our contempt for you, but for the Enemy."

Glorfindel gave the Maia a surprised look. Nyéreser nodded. "We were showing the Enemy that even limiting our powers as we did to the level of the Children we could still outfight them. It is why the war took as long as it did. Even so, we could not contain all our powers, especially since the Enemy had no compunction about using its powers to the fullest, and so Beleriand was destroyed in the process." He sighed, giving Glorfindel a rueful look. "It is something I will always regret, for it was a fair land."

Oromë stood up and pulled Glorfindel along with him, giving him a clap on the shoulder. "You are a wonderful ellon, Glorfindel. Do not think yourself otherwise, for I assure you none of us do. Now, let us see about cleaning up this mess." The Vala turned and surveyed the clearing. The feline monsters were all dead and their carcasses piled in a heap. The two dead wolves and the doe were lying separately from them. Glorfindel walked over to the pile of monsters to get a better look at them. He shuddered, for up close he realized that the smallest of them stood nearly chest high to him.

"I’ve never seen creatures like these before," he said in awe.

"Leftovers from an earlier age before your ancestors awoke by the shores of Cuiviénen," Oromë said, standing next to him. "Melkor was very busy corrupting Yavanna’s creations back then. They usually don’t come this far south, though," he said stroking his chin pensively. "I’ll have to look into that."

Glorfindel shuddered again, though now for a different reason. He turned to follow Oromë when the Vala moved away to kneel amongst the carcasses of the wolves and deer. He put his hands out so that they hovered over the bodies. Glorfindel was never sure what he saw or felt just then, but some kind of power went out of the Vala and slowly the torn bodies of the wolves began to heal and in a matter of minutes they were both standing, reverently licking the Vala’s face before bounding off to join their pack. The doe, Glorfindel noticed, also began to stir and soon it was being greeted by its herd. Oromë stood and smiled at the two groups of animals, traditional enemies of one another, yet, for a brief time, comrades against a common foe.

"Go, my children," he said. "Go in peace this day." He then spoke directly to the wolves. "Hunt further to the east, my friends. You will find what you seek there."

The wolves all bowed as one and then, letting out a howl, they leapt through the trees, heading east. Oromë, meanwhile, moved to stand among the deer, and addressed the stag. "You did well, my beloved, very well indeed. Go. Take your family south. You will find what you seek there."

The stag bowed its magnificent head and then the deer were fleeing swiftly to the south. Soon only Oromë, the Maiar and Glorfindel were alone in the glade. Glorfindel found himself letting go of a breath he was unaware that he had been holding. He realized rather belatedly that Nyéreser had been holding him tightly by the shoulders, for when the wolves had howled and leapt away he wanted to join them and it was only the strength of the Maia that had held him in check.

"Not yet, my friend," Nyéreser whispered gently in his ear. "The time is not yet, but soon."

"Wh-what do you call soon?" he begged, licking lips that had gone suddenly dry.

"All times are soon to us, Glorfindel," the Maia said with a chuckle, "for we came into existence outside of Time. Even now it is only a convenience for us, a way of interacting with the Children who must live within Time."

Oromë was suddenly there before the elf, smiling benignly. "You can claim three of these alatyauli for yourself, Glorfindel. I think their pelts would make fine gifts for your gwedyr."

Glorfindel gave the Vala a pleased look. "Thank you, lord. I would like that. Perhaps I could have them made into cloaks."

"That might do well," Oromë said with a nod. "Come. Choose whichever of these you would and I will see the pelts delivered to you later. I would not bother with the meat. It is rather rancid and tough."

Glorfindel nodded. "Thank you," he said again as he looked over the carcasses, finding three of the largest to his liking. One of the Maiar casually lifted them from the pile and placed them to one side, then Oromë pointed a finger at the rest of the pile and immediately the carcasses burst into flames. Glorfindel found he had to step to the edge of the clearing for the heat of the fire was ferocious and within the space of a half dozen breaths there was naught left of the monsters but ash.

Oromë smiled in satisfaction at the sight and then turned to Glorfindel who was standing there with a stunned expression on his face. "Now, if I were you, child," he said, "I would return to where you left Lisselindë and go back to the cottage. I’m sure after all this excitement you could do with something to eat."

Glorfindel gave the Vala a blank look for a moment and then his eyes widened. "Lisselindë! I forgot all about her."

The Maiar in the clearing all laughed. Nyéreser clapped a hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "Come. We’ll go back together."

Glorfindel nodded, giving Oromë a deep bow. The Vala smiled. "Off you go, then," he said and a few seconds later he was alone in the glade with his Maiar. The Vala turned to them. "Well fought, my children. Come. Let us away."

Three of the Maiar picked up the carcasses set aside for Glorfindel and soon all that was left in the clearing were the ashes of the alatyauli blowing away in a light breeze.

****

Macilhánor: Swordbrothers. The Sindarin form would be megilchenair or magolchenair.

Alatyauli: Plural of alatyaulë: Great cat, a species of prehistoric saber-tooth cat. An interesting article on the many species of prehistoric cats can be found at: www(dot)messybeast(dot)com/cat-prehistory(dot)htm. Feel free to chose your favorite illustration for this chapter.

Note: The War of Wrath lasted approximately forty-two years according to Tolkien’s timeline of the events in the First Age.