Chapter the Seventh:

In Which the Palace Gets a New Head Cook and Finrod Gets a New Title

Finrod and Glorfindel went to Queen Eärwen, who accepted her son’s apology with a forgiving smile.

"All you had to do was come to me," she said gently, "and I would have been glad for your help, all your help, including Vondo and Vorondil."

Finrod blushed. "Sorry, Ammë."

"I know you are, dear," she said, giving the two ellyn a kiss on their brows before sending them on their way. They stopped to check on Vondo. Both he and Vorondil were lying side-by-side on the bed fast asleep. Finrod and Glorfindel gave each other knowing smiles and left quietly, going to Finrod’s suite to discuss what had happened and wait for the summons to the feast.

"I guess we messed up," Glorfindel said ruefully as he plopped down upon a plush chair, dangling a leg carelessly across one arm of it.

"You think?" Finrod retorted, giving him a sardonic smile even as he took his own seat. He sighed. "Kitchen work for two weeks."

"Nothing either of us hasn’t done before," Glorfindel said with a shrug.

"But with Mas... er... I mean Isildil there along with us," Finrod said with a grimace, "even if he’s no longer in charge, he and the rest of the staff will still find ways to make our lives miserable."

Glorfindel shrugged. "While we, virtuous Elves that we are, will ignore them all and show them that we’re above all their pettiness and spite."

Finrod grinned. "I wonder who will take over the kitchen in the interim and if Atar truly means to allow Isildil to continue being Head Cook after this."

"We’ll find out soon enough about the first and I really don’t care about the second," Glorfindel said, stretching before rising. "I’m going to go ready myself for the feast. Better wake Vorondil soon so he’s ready as well."

Finrod nodded. "I’ll see you in a while."

****

When Finrod went to wake Vorondil, he found both ellyn already up with Vondo helping his nephew with his squire’s tabard. Vorondil, when he heard what punishment had been meted out to Finrod and Glorfindel insisted that as Finrod’s squire he should suffer along with them. "If I hadn’t been so clumsy, we could’ve gotten away," he said mournfully.

Finrod just shook his head. "The King does not blame you or your uncle for what happened, and you have your own studies don’t forget. Also, you wouldn’t want to miss out on the camping trip your atar has planned for you and Vondo next week, would you?"

"It’ll just rain or, even worse, snow," the younger ellon said with a shrug, not willing to give in.

Finrod laughed and gave him a hug. "Then it’s too bad Laurendil’s not here, isn’t it?"

That brought a snicker from both Vorondil and Vondo and the dark mood lifted. Vondo insisted that he was feeling well enough to attend the feast. "I don’t need a minder," he said with a scowl. "I wish people would stop treating me as if I were five."

"Atar is just concerned," Finrod pointed out. "He doesn’t want you to feel you need to be sociable if you’d rather not."

Vondo shrugged. "If I feel the need to leave, I will," he said equably, "and besides, I’ve been looking forward to this feast as much as Vorondil."

Finrod nodded. "Then you’d best hurry up and get dressed," he said as he left to see to his own preparations.

****

Vorondil, when he saw the other gifts for the Queen that had been placed on a table for that purpose, was suddenly unsure how well received his gift would be, for it was very small and unassuming among all the others, but Finrod, remembering a certain begetting day celebration where his had been the smallest (and least appreciated) of the gifts, just gave him a hug. "She’ll love it," he assured the younger ellon.

"How do you know?" Vorondil asked doubtfully.

"Because it’s from you and for no other reason."

Vorondil wasn’t sure what his master meant by that but reluctantly placed his small package in with the others, sure that it would be overlooked or, worse, disparaged. Then at Finrod’s suggestion, he went to see how Vondo was holding up. "If at any time he feels the need to leave, you are excused from your duties to me to see to him. There’s no need to seek me out for permission; just go," Finrod told him and Vorondil nodded.

Finrod smiled after the ellon and then went in search of his ammë before the first remove was to be served. She was surrounded by well-wishers from the Court. At his approach, Eärwen smiled and opened her arms to him, giving him a motherly kiss as the others excused themselves to give them some privacy. "And how are you doing, yonya?" she asked quietly.

Instead of answering he asked a question of his own. "Do you remember Amarië’s begetting day celebration soon after I returned?"

Eärwen nodded. "You gave me this at the same time," she said, touching the pearl pendant that she was wearing.

Finrod nodded. "Do you remember my gift to Amarië?" he asked.

She gave him a shrewd look. "What are you about, Finda?"

"There’s a certain youngster who thinks his gift to you, being so small, will go unnoticed, or worse, be despised." He nodded surreptitiously toward where Vorondil and Vondo were standing with Vondo’s parents and Aldundil as they spoke together. Aldundil had a loving arm around Vorondil’s shoulders while Vondo was speaking animatedly and from the expressions on his listeners’ faces, Finrod had no doubt he was regaling them with what happened in the kitchen earlier.

Eärwen gave her son a knowing look. "Indeed," was all she said and Finrod gave her one of the bright smiles that generally left ellith feeling breathless. Then Arafinwë came to escort his wife to the high table so the feast might begin and Finrod joined them, signaling to Vorondil who came immediately to attend to his master. He had also been given the honor of seeing to the Queen’s needs as well.

The feast went off without any serious hitches. Luckily, much of it could be salvaged and Isildil, whatever else he might be, was a master of his craft and was able to find suitable substitutes for what had been ruined. Eärwen made a point of praising him and his staff for their hard work. Isildil didn’t look all that pleased but gave her a gracious enough bow before returning to what was still his demesne, at least for that evening.

As was the custom, Eärwen would open her gifts before the final remove, thereby giving everyone a break from eating. Later, there would be dancing and singing and the celebration would continue until nearly dawn. Eärwen gestured to the two pages who had been charged with bringing the gifts to the Queen as she sat at the high table and whispered her instructions to them to which they nodded. Then they began bringing the gifts one by one for Eärwen to open. Finrod noticed the glum look on Vorondil’s face as gift after gift was brought before the Queen, the card read, the package opened, the Queen’s words of thanks and praise to the givers warm and sincere, each gift seemingly more beautiful and exquisite than the one before and everyone oohed and aahed and applauded the gift and the giver. Gift after gift was brought up but Vorondil’s gift was ignored, even when the pile was down to just a few gifts and his was clearly visible on the table. Finally, only his gift remained, and Finrod, looking back at Vorondil who was standing beside him, saw the ellon was nearly in tears, fighting bravely not to cry in public.

The pages were busy collecting all the opened gifts, seemingly forgetting the last small gift. Arafinwë turned to his wife, a teasing smile on his face. "I think you’ve forgotten one," he said nodding towards where Vorondil’s gift was still sitting lonely on the table.

Eärwen gave him her own smile. "No, I haven’t," she said, then turned to Vorondil. "Would you like to give me your gift yourself, child?" she asked.

Vorondil just stood there, shaking his head, and then he tried to bolt, his face hot with shame and despair. Finrod was after him immediately, and brought him back to the dais, gently urging him with soft words to take his gift and present it to the Queen. He had to practically steer him to the table. All the while the rest of the feasters sat in silence watching the drama. Vorondil brought the gift to Eärwen, refusing to look up, so he did not see her gentle smile.

"Thank you, dear," she said as she took the little box from him. "I told the pages to save your gift for last because I know how special it will be."

Vorondil looked up and shook his head. "There’s nothing special about it, my lady," he whispered.

"Oh, but there is, and do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Because it’s your gift and no one else’s," she answered and then she undid the ribbon on the box and lifted the lid, removing the hairpin and holding it up for all to see. "Oh, Vorondil, it’s lovely."

"It’s just a hairpin," the ellon muttered with a shrug, unconvinced that the Queen was being sincere.

Before Eärwen could reply, Aldundil came forward from where he’d been sitting with his family and wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders. "I understand Vondo helped you to find the gift," he said quietly and Vorondil nodded, "and you looked all over Tirion for just the right gift, didn’t you?"

"I couldn’t find what I wanted," Vorondil said.

"And what did you want? What kind of gift were you looking for?" Aldundil asked.

"I... I wanted something that was... um... as beautiful as... as the Queen," Vorondil stuttered as he blushed in embarrassment, not looking at anyone.

There were soft titters among some of the listeners, quickly suppressed, and Vorondil reddened even more. Aldundil gave him a hug, kissing his brow. "So why this hairpin? What made this the right gift?"

For a moment Vorondil did not reply, then giving a sigh, still not looking up, he answered, "When I saw the hairpin, I... I fell in love with it. It was so beautiful. I liked the blue color and it reminded me of my lady’s eyes."

"And because you fell in love with the gift, you poured that love into the gift and gave it with love in your heart for the one to whom it was to be given, did you not?" Aldundil asked and Vorondil nodded.

"And that’s why I will always treasure it, child," Eärwen said, "because it was your gift and no one else’s. The size of the gift does not matter, Vorondil, only the size of the heart of the gift-giver and you have a large heart full of love. Come here, Vorondil."

Aldundil gave his son a small push and Vorondil went to stand before the Queen who stood and gave him a motherly hug and kiss, speaking to him softly while Aldundil and Finrod both looked on with identical parental smiles on their faces, though neither was aware of it. Eärwen released the ellon from her embrace and then carefully put the pin into her hair and resumed her seat as everyone applauded.

"And now, I think we’ve kept the cooks waiting long enough," Eärwen said once the hall calmed down and as Finrod and Aldundil resumed their seats and Vorondil, now looking happier, resumed his place beside his master, the final remove was served and the feast continued.

****

Neither Finrod nor Glorfindel bothered to sleep that night. The celebration went very late and they did not see the point of it, nor did they truly need it, having both slept well the night before. Instead, they excused themselves to change into old tunics, and then returned to the feast hall to help with the cleaning up once the revelers began to retire. As he and Eärwen were leaving, Arafinwë saw his son grab a broom and begin sweeping without even being told while Glorfindel began wiping down the tables as they were being cleared. Isildil, he noticed, was standing nearby, imperiously giving out orders. Arafinwë frowned, then shrugged. Let the ellon enjoy his position while he could because within the hour he would be replaced by the new Head Cook.

Eärwen, noticing her husband’s look, asked, "Whom do you think the Guild will send to replace Master Isildil?"

Arafinwë shook his head. "I do not know. I told the Guild Master to send someone who can deal with having to order a prince and a lord of the realm around without fear." He gave her a sly grin and she giggled.

The question of who would be replacing Master Isildil, even temporarily, was on the minds of many, including Isildil, who was determined to lord it over the rest of the kitchen staff as much as possible for as long as possible. The thought of having to do menial work as if he were the newest apprentice did not sit well with him and he knew whom to blame for his disgrace. During the next hour or so he made sure that Finrod and Glorfindel were handed the dirtiest, most back-breaking jobs he could find, secretly smirking to see these two nobles scrubbing pots and cleaning out the ovens.

Others in the kitchen said nothing and they kept their expressions studiously blank, but one of the younger staff stopped by Glorfindel, who was covered with soot and ashes as he cleaned out the ovens, and slipped him a cup of water when Isildil was too busy berating Finrod for not scrubbing hard enough. Glorfindel gave the youngster a brilliant smile in thanks. Finrod, to his credit, took the dressing down that Isildil was giving him meekly enough, but Glorfindel noticed the sour looks on the faces of the other cooks and helpers, for Finrod was popular with everyone in the palace and seeing him being humiliated in this fashion did not sit well with them.

"And furthermore...." Isildil started droning on.

"And furthermore, Isildil, I will thank you not to be berating my staff. That is no longer your prerogative."

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at the newcomer standing at the doorway, giving them a rather amused look. The elleth was tall, almost as tall as Glorfindel, her hair a pleasing shade of honey-brown, her eyes a warm green hazel. Over her plain blue gown she wore the white tabard with the emblem of the Guild of Cooks — a black pot with two spoons in saltire beneath it. Stitched on the pot were three gold stars denoting a very senior member of the Guild. Even Isildil only had one star which was granted to him when he achieved his mastership. Whoever this elleth was, she was definitely a high-ranking member of the Cooks’ Guild.

"Greetings," she said, smiling at them all. "My name is Marilla. I’ve been assigned to oversee the royal kitchen for the next couple of weeks." She stepped further into the room and glanced about, apparently taking note of what all were doing. Her gaze lingered somewhat on Glorfindel kneeling before one of the ovens covered with soot and then on Finrod standing at one of the sinks covered with suds. "Isildil, you can take over for Finrod. He’s looking a bit wet."

For a moment, no one moved. Isildil just stared at his replacement, blinking. "Oh, and you’d best remove that tabard," Marilla said with a cold smile. "We wouldn’t want it to get dirty, would we?"

Finrod was the first to move, grabbing one of Isildil’s hands and thrusting the scrubber he’d been using into it, giving the ellon his own cold smile before turning to Marilla, giving her a proper bow. "And what would you like me to do, Mistress Marilla?" he asked.

"Have you ever made bread?" Marilla asked.

Finrod raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "No, Mistress. I can’t say I’ve ever had the privilege."

"Well, you can start now," Marilla said. "Ailinel, why don’t you show our prince how it’s done," she ordered one of the older ellith who was normally in charge of the breadmaking. Ailinel started in surprise at the sound of her name, but gave Marilla a brief curtsey and gestured for Finrod to join her where she was making bread.

Glorfindel watched somewhat enviously as Finrod dried himself off before donning a clean apron and began pouring flour into a measuring cup at Ailinel’s directions. He sighed and went back to cleaning the ovens, preparing them for the day’s baking, fantasizing about being clean again. He paid little attention to Mistress Marilla moving through the kitchen speaking to each of the staff, seemingly knowing everyone’s name and what their usual tasks were. He was half inside one of the larger ovens, scraping out the old ashes, when he felt someone approach him. Pulling himself out he blinked up at the new Head Cook smiling down at him. He knelt there, waiting for her to speak, stealing a glance at his gwador covered with flour and happily kneading some dough under Ailinel’s watchful eye. Resisting a sigh he looked back up at Marilla who apparently knew what he was thinking, for she smiled and bent down to whisper to him.

"Tomorrow, you can help make some ginger biscuits."

He smiled and leaned forward, careful not to get soot on the elleth’s starch-white tabard. "Can Finrod clean the ovens tomorrow then?"

"We’ll see," was all Marilla said as she straightened up and then spoke more loudly. "That’s very good Glorfindel. Why don’t you finish getting rid of these ashes and when you’ve cleaned up you can help the apprentices in the scullery to dress the meat."

"Yes, Mistress," Glorfindel said meekly enough and stood to take the last load of ashes out, then stopping at the sink and washing as much of the soot off him as he could before heading for the scullery where two of the apprentices were plucking some waterfowl and quail. The apprentices turned at his entrance and gave him shy smiles.

"There are some goats needing dressing," one of them said, nodding in the direction of a cold room where meats were stored. "Mistress wants three."

Glorfindel went to the cold room to find the three goats already bled, hanging on hooks. Taking one of them down he carried it into the scullery and hung it by its hind legs on a hook for that purpose, then found the appropriate skinning knife and began working.

For the rest of that first morning, Glorfindel helped with dressing the various meats that would appear at lunch and later at dinner while Finrod spent it baking bread. Isildil, they noticed, was given the most menial of tasks, those usually assigned to the newest apprentices. The former master scowled whenever he laid eyes on them, but neither Finrod nor Glorfindel spoke to him. Once lunch was done with (they ate in the kitchen with the rest of the staff), Marilla dismissed them, reminding them to report to her an hour before dinner.

"I’ll scrounge up some page’s tabards for you to wear while you’re serving," she said before letting them go.

As they walked away, Glorfindel glanced at Finrod. "You are so lucky, getting to bake bread while I had to clean out the ovens and then dress the meat."

Finrod gave him a smile. "But you’ve dressed meat before."

"Yes, but not for hours on end," Glorfindel protested. "I guess Mistress Marilla likes you more than she likes me."

"Oh, gwador!" Finrod exclaimed. "That’s not true, and baking bread isn’t as easy as it looks."

"But it looked like a lot of fun, certainly more fun than I was having." Glorfindel stopped and gave him a sly look. "I think we’ll have to give you a new title."

"Oh?" Finrod asked suspiciously, recognizing the look in Glorfindel’s eyes.

Glorfindel nodded, smirking. "Yes, I think we’ll have to call you ‘bassoneth’ from now on."

Finrod raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t dare!"

"Bassoneth, bassoneth, bassoneth," Glorfindel chanted with a laugh as he slipped out of Finrod’s reach. "Bassoneth Finrod. It has a nice ring to it."

"Glorfindel!" Finrod shouted.

"Bassoneth, bassoneth...."

The palace personnel were soon witnesses to the sight of Lord Glorfindel running through the halls shouting something none of them understood and laughing while Prince Findaráto chased him, shouting just as loudly, but definitely not laughing. The various guards and servants and even the occasional courtier stared after the two ellyn as they swept by them with bemused expressions, then gave each other shrugs before going about their business.

****

Bassoneth: (Sindarin) ‘Bread-giver’ The title given to the highest among the elven-women of any people, she having the right to keep or give away lembas bread. Often simply translated as ‘Lady’. The Quenya cognate is massanië.