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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

19: The Housewarming Party

“All right, Ron, what’s this all about?” Glorfindel asked as he and Finrod entered Vorondur’s house. “The housewarming party isn’t for another hour or so. Why are we here so early?”

“If you will come into my office, I will explain,” Vorondur said. “And don’t worry, Amroth took Della and Holly out shopping so we won’t be disturbed. This way.”

“You have done a lovely job of decorating,” Finrod commented as he and Glorfindel followed Vorondur down the hall.

“Not my doing,” Vorondur said with a grin. “I stayed firmly out of the way. Holly called me a coward. I won’t bore you with what Amroth called me.”

The other two laughed. “I know what you mean,” Glorfindel said. “Except for my own room, I refused to help with putting Edhellond together, though I was willing to give my decided opinion as to where the sofa should go.”

They all chuckled as Vorondur showed them into his office, but the laughter died on Finrod’s and Glorfindel’s lips when they saw who was waiting for them.

“Darren, what are you doing here?” Glorfindel asked. “I thought you were taking a walk.”

“And I did… across town, but I’ll gladly accept a ride back.”

Glorfindel exchanged a considering look with Finrod before turning his attention to Vorondur, whose expression had become sober, what Glorfindel thought of as the ellon’s professional look. “All right, will someone explain what all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense is about?”

“Why don’t we sit and be comfortable?” Vorondur suggested. “I made some peppermint tea.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” Finrod said graciously.

“Yeah, sure,” Glorfindel said with a huff of annoyance, “just so long as the tea comes with an explanation.”

“I asked you both here because Darren needs to speak with you but not where anyone would notice,” Vorondur said, ignoring Glorfindel’s attitude as he poured the tea and handed out the mugs.

Glorfindel and Finrod both gave Daeron considering looks. “You are gravely troubled, mellon nîn,” Finrod said softly. “Speak. We are listening.”

Daeron, however, did not speak but sat there, looking distressed and uncomfortable. Glorfindel put his mug down and went to stand before his friend, looking down at him, his expression grave. He reached out and gently caressed the ellon’s hair. It was an intimate gesture and Daeron shivered slightly at his touch but did not shrink away.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Glorfindel said just above a whisper as he continued to stroke Daeron’s hair. “You have nothing to fear from me or Finrod.”

“I know,” Daeron whispered back. “I just hate being in this position.”

Glorfindel stopped his ministrations and crouched to be more at eye-level with the loremaster, giving him a faint smile. “Do you remember what I told you when we first met?”

“How could I forget? Those words are etched onto my very soul to this day. They helped sustain me when all was dark and hopeless.”

“Then you know that I speak the truth: I will never desert you no matter what. You can never do anything for which I will ever withhold forgiveness and indeed you can never do anything that requires it. Daeron, we’ve gone through too much together not to trust one another with each other’s secrets. And Finrod is the same. Nothing said here will be repeated outside this room. I promise.”

For a moment, the two stared into each other’s eyes and then Daeron nodded. “I overheard a disturbing conversation the other day. I came to Ron for some advice on how to handle it. I knew you and Finrod needed to be told but I was reluctant to speak of it where others might hear.”

Glorfindel straightened and returned to his chair, picking up his mug. “What did you hear?”

“I was in the woods, sitting in a tree, a northern spruce. No one saw me.” Daeron gave them a sardonic look. “They were so busy yapping at one another they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. You would’ve thought that they were clueless Mortals.”

The other three ellyn smiled at that. “Go on,” Glorfindel said encouragingly.

“Yes, well, I didn’t hear all of the conversation but what I did hear was disturbing enough,” Daeron continued and then he proceeded to give a verbatim account of the conversation.

While Daeron related his tale, Vorondur spent the time observing the other two ellyn. Finrod was pale, his eyes sorrowful, which was rather interesting because Glorfindel, by contrast, looked as if he was ready to skewer someone with his sword, the anger barely in check.

“Who were they?” he hissed when Daeron finished.

The loremaster shook his head. “I’d rather not say.”

“Darren—”

“No, Loren, please. Don’t make me tell you who they were. Does it matter? Is it not enough that some of our people feel this way about you and want the question of who leads us decided once and for all?”

“You know, I’m not even upset about that,” Glorfindel said.

“You’re not?” Vorondur demanded, narrowing his eyes, giving him a shrewd look. “What are you upset about.”

“Amroth.”

“Amroth!” the other three exclaimed almost as one. “And why are you upset about Amroth?” Vorondur asked.

“Those sanctimonious orc-lovers have no right to disparage him,” Glorfindel spat out with fire in his eyes. “Silvan he may be, but he is of royal blood and they are not good enough to lick the mud off his boots.”

“Whoa, Loren, slow down,” Vorondur said, feeling alarmed by the ellon’s venom. “Drink some tea and get yourself under control.”

Glorfindel started to do as he was told, then grimaced, setting the mug down. “I think I need something stronger than tea right now.”

“Fine,” Vorondur said, standing. “I have some sherry stashed away somewhere. Will that do?”

Glorfindel just nodded, his expression still set. Finrod leaned over and clasped his shoulder, giving him a slight shake. “Take a deep breath, gwador. You are giving them too easy a victory.”

Glorfindel gave him a surprised look and then nodded, inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly, forcing himself to calmness. Vorondur went to the bookcase next to the window  where there was a built-in cabinet. Opening it, he brought out a decanter and several glasses, pouring some for them all. “Cheers,” he said in salute and then they all took a sip. “Feeling better?” he asked Glorfindel as he took his seat. Glorfindel nodded but did not speak.

“So, let me get this straight,” Vorondur said. “You’re not upset about what these people said about you and Finrod but about what they said about Amroth?”

Glorfindel shrugged, taking another sip of the sherry. “Shouldn’t I be? He’s my friend, our friend, after all.”

“I’m not saying that,” Vorondur retorted. “I am simply surprised that you are less angry on your own behalf than you are on behalf of another.”

“Why are you surprised?” Glorfindel asked, looking puzzled. “You should know me better than that by now.”

“I apparently don’t know you as well as I thought I did,” Vorondur said with a smile. “I had you pegged five minutes after I met you, or thought I did, but you constantly surprise me. Just when I have you figured out you go do something stupid, brave or ridiculous that sets all my pet theories on their ears.”

“Welcome to life with a Reborn,” Finrod said, chuckling. “My atar pretty much said the same thing about me. I think it comes with the territory.”

“Yet, your re-embodiment was a very long time ago, as was Loren’s,” Vorondur pointed out. “Are you saying that….”

“Once a Reborn, always a Reborn,” Finrod interjected with a nod. Glorfindel merely smirked.

“Well, a discussion for another day,” Vorondur said. “I suggest we concentrate on Daeron’s overheard conversation. It disturbs me to no end that, after all we’ve been through these last few months, anyone would think this way. I agree that the issue of leadership needs to be resolved or spelled out without any ambiguities, but I think I’ve underestimated the extent of the discontent that permeates our little group.”

“You’re not Superman, Ron, nor are you Eru Ilúvatar, so don’t beat yourself up over this,” Glorfindel said. “We’ve all been a bit clueless about this, but it has to stop here and now or we’ll tear one another apart. I am more than willing to give Finrod a public apology if that’s what it takes.”

“I disagree,” Finrod said. “I don’t need an apology, public or otherwise, whether I think you should give it or not. I will not allow others to dictate to me in this fashion.”

“Do you believe that some decision about leadership should be made, though?” Daeron asked.

“What do you think?” Finrod shot back.

“Me? I’m just a lowly loremaster, Finrod,” Daeron retorted. “And on top of that, I’m a Wiseman Elf. My first loyalty is to Loren, who was our leader long before we ever came here to become Elf Guides. If he and you decide between you that you should be our undisputed leader, I will respect that but don’t ask me to decide for you, because I won’t.”

“There is nothing lowly about you, Daeron,” Finrod said firmly. “Do not disparage your worth.”

Daeron shrugged, then sat there sipping his sherry, not looking at anyone in particular. Glorfindel gave him a shrewd glance.

“I still would like to know who those Elves were,” he said, then raised a hand to forestall Daeron’s objections. “I am not seeking to punish anyone for honestly feeling the way they do, but perhaps if we knew who felt this way we can go to them quietly and speak to them without anyone else knowing about it.”

“It might be better to address the situation openly without naming names,” Vorondur suggested. “Everyone is going to be here tonight for the party. This might be a good opportunity to decide how we will resolve this issue, and resolve it we must or, I fear, we are doomed.”

“It is true we need to show a more united front,” Finrod allowed. “If nothing else, we need to stop referring to one another as ‘Wiseman Elves’ or ‘Valinórean Elves’. This is the Troubles all over again.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking sad.

“Troubles?” Daeron asked.

“A period of time when there was much tension between the various groups of Elves living in Aman, early in the Second Age,” Glorfindel supplied. “It took some time to resolve.”

“And that is what we are short of here,” Vorondur stated. “Oh, not for us, of course, but for the Mortals. They need to see us united as much as we do, more so, because there are already groups who are less than welcoming toward us and our dissensions give them fuel for their own fire. We cannot allow that to continue.”

“So how do we resolve it?” Glorfindel asked. “Have a show of hands? Problem is, we Wiseman Elves are slightly outnumbered and many of the Valinórean Elves are friends of us both. I am tempted to suggest choosing someone else entirely to be our leader but I know that won’t be accepted. We may live in a democracy but Elves are decidedly not democratic where politics is concerned. We’re too hierarchical in our thinking, seeing the title for the man, so to speak.”

Daeron flashed them a smile. “I can’t quite see the two of you stumping for votes and making campaign promises that will never be kept.”

Glorfindel and Vorondur both chuckled though Finrod looked slightly bemused, not quite understanding the reference but having a shrewd idea of what the loremaster was talking about. “Perhaps we should have the Valar decide,” he said and the other three gave him surprised looks. “Well, it is only a suggestion, but if one of the Valar came and categorically stated that Glorfindel was to lead us or that I or that we both were to do so, it will still all protests and we can get on with things. I fear if we try to decide amongst ourselves, there will still be pockets of discontent.”

“Joint rule would be my choice,” Vorondur said, “with each of you handling a particular sphere of activity related to preparing the Mortals for the coming war. Obviously, Loren would continue as Administrator of Elf Academy and that’s been our main focus up to now. Finrod keeps insisting he has no interest in taking over that part of the operation, though I think some view that with skepticism and they are simply waiting for you to take over completely.”

“And they will be sorely disappointed,” Finrod retorted with a huff. “My orders were clear: I was not to interfere with Glorfindel’s running of Elf Academy. Unfortunately, the Valar were less than forthcoming as to what I was supposed to be doing instead.” He shook his head. “This is impossible. We cannot continue this way.”

“I agree,” Glorfindel said, “and I think we need to resolve this tonight.” He turned to Vorondur. “I fear we will be ruining the party for you, Ron. Forgive us.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I’d rather that the party be ruined than see us so divided that even the Mortals take notice.”

“So what will you do?” Daeron asked. “Enquiring minds want to know.”

If either Glorfindel or Finrod intended to answer the loremaster they were forestalled by the sound of voices. Vorondur stood up and set his glass down. “That will be Amroth and the ellith. Shall we go give them a hand?”

The others nodded and soon they were heading for the front door, giving greetings and helping with the groceries. Neither Amroth nor the ellith asked them what they were doing there so early and Daeron wondered if that was because of what Ron had told him about them agreeing to be incurious about who came to see him. For the first time he saw Ron in a wholly different light and found himself silently giving thanks to Eru for the ellon’s presence among them.

****

The other Elves arrived as scheduled, along with a few Mortals who had been invited, including Alex and Derek. The Michaelsons, Nicole Lord and her children and Tim Saunders, her beau, were also invited. The Elves all admired the house, the Mortals all came bearing gifts.

“Not that we need anything,” Ercassë said when Nicole greeted her with a gaily wrapped package, “but thank you.”

“You said it was a housewarming,” Nicole said. “One always brings a gift to a housewarming, and I know you’re not into things like this, but every home needs something to bring good luck and ward off evil spirits.”

Ercassë opened the package to reveal a kitchen witch made out of rattan and calico. “And I know just where to put it, thank you,” she said showing it to Della and Amroth.

“Come along and we’ll give you the five-cent tour,” Vorondur said.

Meanwhile Alex and Derek were mingling, giving everyone greetings. Some were cool but polite, others were more effusive. Gilvegil gave them a hearty greeting. “I hear Ron took you down,” he said with a laugh. “Sorry to have missed it.”

Alex groaned convincingly. Derek grinned. “You see, I told you we should’ve sold tickets.”

“I wasn’t prepared,” Alex insisted. “He took me by surprise.”

“Oh, yeah, the great superspy taken by surprise,” Gilvegil said with a wicked grin and then faster than either Mortal could see he was grabbing Alex and sweeping him down in one fluid motion. Derek jumped back and the Elves who happened to be in the vicinity looked on with disinterest, as if taking down Mortals was an everyday occurrence with them. The Michaelson and Lord children who happened to be in the room at the time just gaped in surprise. Alex stared up at Gilvegil in shock.

“What is this? ‘Beat up on Alex Day’ or something?” he nearly shouted, trying to push Gilvegil off him and failing.

“Take it easy, my friend,” Gilvegil said soothingly. “If I let you up do you promise not to attack?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you will not succeed.”

Alex looked to see Vorondur standing over them. “Says you.”

“Yes, says me. Alex, you are in a house full of Elves, many of whom are warriors who fought against balrogs and orcs and other denizens of the Dark. We’ve had far more experience than you in that respect. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, but do not mistake us. We are deadly in ways you can never comprehend.”

“Well, cut it out, will you? I’m getting sick and tired of you all treating me like your own personal punching bag.” Alex glared up at the two Elves.

“Easy, Alex,” Gilvegil said, holding out his hand. “Just having a bit of fun at your expense. You really make it too easy sometimes.”

Alex allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “Here, have some wine,” Vorondur said, handing him a glass. Alex glared at him but took the glass and drank the wine in a single swallow.

“Okay, playtime’s over,” Derek suddenly said with a firm voice, taking the glass out of Alex’s hand and grabbing his elbow to steer him to a chair. “You sit and get yourself together, mate, and you lot back off. Honestly, it’s like supervising a playground full of alpha males or something. And don’t forget we have children present. Act accordingly.”

“That’s telling them,” Alex said with a grin. Then he moaned slightly, holding his head. “Man that was stupid. I shouldn’t have drunk all that wine in one shot without something on my stomach.”

“I’ll get you something to munch on,” Gilvegil said by way of apology and left them.

“Stay still and breathe normally, Alex,” Vorondur said. “Bathroom’s that way if you feel the need.” He pointed to his left. “And I’ll have someone bring you some water as well.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Glorfindel asked, entering the room along with Finrod. “Ron?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Loren,” Vorondur said smoothly. “It’s under control. Oh, Zach, I didn’t see you there. Welcome back. How are you doing?”

Zachary Austin grinned and held up his left arm and waved it. “All mended,” he said. “Man, I really missed you guys.”

Several people, Elves and Mortals, went over to greet the young Man, congratulating him on his mended arm and welcoming him back. Derek made Alex stay in the chair and Gilvegil returned with a plate of appetizers.

“Here, eat something, and here’s some water.”

“Thanks,” Alex said softly and began nibbling on the cheese and crackers and sipping on the water as he watched Zach mingle with everyone, finally making his way to where Alex was sitting with Derek hovering over him in a protective manner. Zach shook Derek’s hand and looked down at Alex.

“Can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, can you?”

Alex chuckled as he held out his hand to shake Zach’s. “Apparently not. Glad to see you back. Have a good holiday?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m really glad to be back here. This is where I belong now.”

The other two nodded and they spent a few minutes speaking of inconsequential things, catching up on each other’s news. Alex felt well enough now to get up and soon the three were mingling with the others. About an hour into the party, Finrod and Glorfindel called everyone together in the basement rec room, which was the largest space in the house. Even so, it was rather crowded but no one seemed to mind. When everyone was settled, Glorfindel spoke.

“Finrod and I have decided that certain things need to be addressed tonight before we go any further. We are aware that some here are concerned about who is to lead us at this time and loyalties are being tested and divided because there’s no clear chain of command. Finrod and I think we need to resolve this issue now.”

“How does that concern us, though?” Dave Michaelson asked.

“Because you have to deal with whoever we decide should be our leader,” Glorfindel replied.

“That may be a problem,” Dave said with a frown.

“How so?” Finrod asked.

“Look, you need to see it from our perspective. If you were to ask any of us who we think is leading your merry band, nine times out of ten, I guarantee you the answer will be ‘Loren’.”

“Which is fine, as far as it goes,” Glorfindel said, “but so what? Mortals change their leadership all the time. Why should it matter to you who leads us?”

“Loren, there have been times when I wanted to strangle you in the town square in front of everyone, and there have been other times when I wanted to kiss your feet,” Dave said with a grin.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “Well, just so long as you weren’t tempted to kiss other parts of my anatomy.”

The Mortals all sniggered and Alex said something in Spanish to Derek that had him nearly rolling on the floor in laughter. The Wiseman Elves reacted similarly, though one or two simply rolled their eyes. Most of the Valinórean Elves, however, glared at Dave, who ignored them, grinning widely at Glorfindel.

 “I’ll take that hit,” he said genially. “The point I’m trying to make is that we see you as the leader of the Elves because, quite frankly, we trust you and even those who are against you respect you enough not to cause trouble. None of us know Finrod, not enough to trust. He hasn’t been here long enough. So, whatever decision you make here tonight, keep in mind that whoever is chosen has to also deal with us.”

“So you are saying that if it is decided that I should lead, you Mortals will still come to Glorfindel with anything that concerns both our peoples.”

“I know it sucks, but that’s the way it is,” Dave said. “It’s taken us some time to get used to the idea of Elves at all, but if you ask the person on the street who’s their favorite Elf, I’ll bet you anything that the answer will be Loren every time.”

“Why should the opinions of Mortals matter to us, though?” Edrahil asked. “They never did before.” Several of the Valinórean Elves nodded, muttering amongst themselves.

“And that’s the sort of attitude that is going to get you all in trouble,” Alex chimed in, stepping forward slightly. “I get the feeling that some of you deem us unworthy of your consideration. You are dismissive of us, remembering our ancestors who lived under your benevolence and patronage. I suspect that you conveniently forget that they also fought and died for you.”

“We do not forget,” Finrod said softly.

“No, I’m sure you do not, but I know that there are those among you who had no dealings with Mortals at all and they may be suffering from… disillusionment. We don’t measure up to their expectations and so they dismiss us as unimportant, but the sad truth, boys and girls, is that you need us far more than we need you.”

“Alex speaks truly,” Vorondur said. “I know that this is not true of us all, but there are some I suspect who feel that Mortals are not really all that important.”

“Except as cannon fodder,” Derek interjected.

“No, Derek,” Finrod said firmly. “That you are not. You are our allies.”

“Then you need to start treating us that way,” Derek shot back, pointing a finger at them. “You go around beating up on Alex because you can and call it sport.” He glared at Gilvegil who had the grace to blush. “You sneer at us and leave us out of your discussions, deigning to tell us afterwards what role you’ve decided we shall play in your little war game. We have Maiar and Valar popping in and out all over the place assuring us that we’re important to the war effort but frankly I don’t see it. It’s all about you and we’re just an afterthought, as usual. Elves first and the rest of us a sorry second. Even God thinks so, according to you.”

There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at Derek, many of the Elves in disbelief, some of the Mortals nodding as if in agreement. A sigh came from nowhere and everywhere and somehow standing in their midst was Manwë, his robes of sky blue and rose billowing in a breeze that none there felt, a diadem gracing his head.

“Please forgive me for intruding,” he said mildly, giving them a gracious smile, “but I could not help overhearing your discussion and decided to… um… drop in for a chat.”

****

Mellon nîn: (Sindarin) My friend.





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