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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

20: Chatting with Manwë

Finrod was the first to recover from his shock, giving Manwë a bow. “You are always welcome, my lord.”

The other Elves also bowed but the Mortals just goggled, most of them not even sure who Manwë was.

“Maia or Vala?” Dave said, looking at Glorfindel.

“A Vala, Dave. Actually, you can probably say the Vala. Let me make you known to Manwë, the Elder King of Arda and Eru’s vice-gerent.”

“Vice what?” young Adam Lord asked in puzzlement from where he was standing with his mother and siblings. Tim Saunders had a supportive arm around the youngster’s shoulders.

Manwë smiled. “It means that I stand in Eru’s stead in all matters concerning Eä.”

“Oh, so you’re like a deputy or something.”

“Yes, something like that,” Manwë allowed.

“Wait, you said you overheard us,” Jenna Michaelson said, giving him a glare. “You’re spying on us?”

The Elves all stirred at that accusation, but if Manwë was upset, he did not show it. “Spying? No. I have no need to spy. How can I explain it? What you see before you is merely a projection, what we call a fana. We Valar are spiritual beings. We have no actual physical form. We create the illusion of physicality for your benefit. As a spiritual being, I am aware of all that occurs within this Little Kingdom, as Tulkas calls the universe, and in comparison to the Timeless Halls, it is indeed quite small, though you think it otherwise. Even as I am standing here speaking with you, I am simultaneously having a rather amusing and quite irreverent conversation with Ingwë about the latest fashion among the ellith.” He paused and gave them a conspiratorial smile. “Ingwë is rather… old-fashioned about some things.”

Some of the Elves acquainted with Ingwë smiled.

“And at the same time,” Manwë continued. “I am also about twenty-three billion light years away in another galaxy completely overseeing the burgeoning of intelligent life on a planet similar to this one, though its denizens look nothing like you and it’s doubtful you and they will ever meet.”

Now even the Elves stared at him in disbelief and awe at what he said. Then young Caleb grinned, pointing at Manwë. “I remember you!” he crowed. “You had an owl.”

“Caleb, it’s impolite to point,” Nicole admonished her youngest, reaching to pull the boy’s arm down.

“That’s quite all right, my dear,” Manwë said with a smile. “Come here, child.”

Caleb looked to his mother for permission and when she nodded he stepped forward, gazing up at the Vala without fear. Manwë crouched down to be at eye level with him.

“Do you like my gift?”

The boy gave him a puzzled look. “What gift?”

Manwë gestured with his chin, looking beyond the boy at Tim Saunders, who paled under the Vala’s regard. Caleb turned to see where Manwë was looking and then turned back, his expression still one of puzzlement. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“Your mother’s friend, Timothy. He was our gift to you and your family,” Manwë answered.

“But how can he be a gift?” Caleb demanded with all the indignation of a nearly six-year-old at the illogic of adults. “He didn’t come all wrapped up in a box.”

Several people, Elves and Mortals alike, attempted to hide their smiles at the child’s literalness. Tim blushed, as did Nicole, while Jenna gave her friend a knowing smile. Manwë kept his own expression solemn, apparently taking the child’s statement with all seriousness.

“No, he did not come in a box, but he came into your lives. Are you not happy that he did?”

Caleb nodded. “He tells funny stories and he likes chocolate chip ice cream.”

All the adults smiled indulgently at the child, understanding what he was saying.

“Ah, then he was definitely the right gift for you and your family,” Manwë said, glancing over Caleb’s head to smile warmly at Tim, who blushed even more, but looked immensely pleased at the same time. Nicole leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Manwë stood and placed a hand on Caleb’s head. He said nothing, but the Elves at least felt the power flowing from him in blessing. Then he released him and the boy went back to his mother. Manwë looked about the room.

“So where were we?” he said rhetorically. “Ah, yes. I will not dictate to you to do this or that. That is not why I am here. I will, however, explain how we Valar view the situation, and perhaps, in doing so, provide you with some ideas as to how to continue from here.”

He paused, glancing around, as if gauging everyone’s reactions. “Let me address Derek’s concerns first.” Derek startled, his eyes widening and he started to protest, but Manwë raised a hand to still him. “I am not here to criticize or judge, child, but to clarify certain misconceptions. Such terms as ‘Firstborn’, ‘Secondborn’ and ‘Aftercomers’, terms invented by the Elves, not by the Valar, imply that Mortals are indeed afterthoughts, not really worthy of regard. We Valar never thought of any of you in that light, however, for we understood that your existence simultaneously arose with that of the Elves within the mind of Eru. You and the Elves are coeval in Eru’s Thoughts, though you awoke within Eä at different times and to different circumstances. You are both Children of Eru and his alone, for we who helped to shape the universe as you know it today had nothing to do with your creation. Each race has gifts and abilities the other does not, and yes, you who are Mortal may think that the distribution of such gifts is rather uneven and in favor of the Elves, but a careful examination will show you that this perception is not necessarily true.”

“So what gifts do we bring to the table that are equal to anything the Elves have?” Dave asked.

“That is something each of you must decide for yourselves,” Manwë answered. “Alex claimed that you Elves needed the Mortals more than they needed you, but in truth, you need each other.” He turned to Finrod. “Do you recall what I said at the Midwinter celebration that marked the first All-Aman Conference?”

Finrod nodded. “You mentioned something about each of us being candles.”

Manwë gestured and everyone gasped as all the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness. Before anyone could respond further, a single lit candle appeared in Manwë’s hand.

“A single candle is weak and fitful in its illumination and cannot fully drive away the darkness,” he said, “but a multitude of candles may.” Now a whole host of lit candles appeared, floating in the air above them, brightening the room. There was much oohing and aahing among them as they looked up in amazement. Manwë continued speaking. “When you each contribute your one little light to the whole, welcoming the light of others, then you are strong and the Dark cannot conquer you. Do not dismiss the light of your fellows, be they Elves or Mortals. It may be that the one light that you disdain is the one most needed to keep the Dark at bay.” As he finished speaking, he gestured and all the candles disappeared and the ceiling lights came on, causing everyone to blink.

“How did you do that?” Caleb demanded, giving Manwë a childish glare.

Manwë placed a finger to his lips. “Trade secret,” he replied with a smile before turning to address the adults. “Now I know the main concern among you is the question of leadership. I understand that there are elections coming up in the near future.”

“The mayoral race,” Dave said with a nod. “Harry Whitman just announced he’s not running for another term so everyone is scrambling to find a suitable candidate.” He grimaced. “Damn Harry. If he were running again, there’d be no question who would win, but now, it’s a crap shoot and we may all lose if the wrong person gets in.”

“And that is certainly something to keep our eyes on,” Manwë said. “I only bring it up because that is one solution to the question of leadership among the Elves: vote on it. Make it anonymous and have one of your Mortal friends count the votes.”

“Do we get to vote as well?” Nicole asked.

“If the Mortals vote then there’s no point in an election because we all know for whom they will vote,” Edrahil spoke up, glancing at Glorfindel.

“Oh, not necessarily,” Nicole retorted with a smile. “Finrod impressed a lot of people with his court.”

“Well, voting is only one option and not necessarily the best,” Manwë said. “There are other ways of deciding, including not deciding at all between them but acknowledging that they are both your leaders.”

“I’ve been saying all along that joint rule is the way to go,” Vorondur said where he stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. “If we have a clear understanding of what each of them has control over and what they have in common then we can go to either one and they can decide together.”

“I’m not sure I understand that,” Zach said.

“Loren is Administrator of Elf Academy,” Vorondur explained. “Anything that has to do with the Academy is for him to decide and we would go to him if we have a problem related to Elf Academy. We wouldn’t go to Finrod. On the other hand, relations between Elves and Mortals would be something that both can and should handle and if there are concerns in that area, then either one can be consulted and they would decide between them as to the course of action to be taken and in such cases where one speaks, the other speaks as well.”

“That is very much how we Valar do things,” Manwë interjected. “Each of us has a sphere of influence and we do not interfere with that, so, for example, how Námo administers the Halls of Mandos is for him alone to decide and even I have not the power to naysay him, but if one of us speaks outside of his or her particular sphere of influence, he or she speaks for all of us, for we all have agreed on it, though even now the Elves prefer to hear it from my lips as the Elder King. They still see the other Valar as more my emissaries and we have allowed them to think that way since it makes them feel more comfortable, but it is not how we actually operate.”

Silence hung about them as everyone contemplated Manwë’s words. The children, however, were fidgeting, bored by all the grownup talk. Manwë gave them an indulgent smile. “Boring isn’t it?” he said, addressing the children who nodded in agreement, much to the adults’ amusement. “I think so too,” Manwë confided, “but we all know how… slow the grownups are at times, don’t we?” He cast a wicked grin at said grownups, all of whom started blushing.

“You’re a grownup,” Kathy Michaelson pointed out.

“Really?” Manwë feigned surprise. “That’s not what my wife says.”

Now the children were giggling and many of the adults were trying vainly to smother their laughter and there followed a sudden bout of coughing and throat clearing among them. Manwë’s smile widened.

“I will leave you now,” he said, his tone deepening and his expression becoming more grave, “but before I do, I will issue one command to you Mortals, and you will pass it on to your friends and neighbors.” The Mortals gave him wary looks. “Oh, nothing you cannot handle, I assure you. I merely wish to remind you that whatever decision the Elves make concerning who among them will be their leader, you are to respect it and them. If it is decided, for instance, that Finrod will lead, you are not to go to Glorfindel instead. Do not seek to undermine the authority of whoever is chosen.”

“We’re not idiots, sir,” Dave said with a scowl, “and we know how to play the game. I have to do it every time there’s an election. We all do. We may not care for the change in leadership, but we adapt, as always. So please do not insult us. We get enough of that from them.” He nodded in the general direction of the Elves standing around him, some of the Elves bristling.

“Ah, Dave, you might want to try being a bit more polite,” Glorfindel said with a thin smile. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re speaking to the Elder King of Arda.”

Dave gave Glorfindel a disbelieving look. “I’m a lot ruder when I speak to God, Loren. If Manwë can’t handle the heat he should get out of the kitchen and that goes for everyone else. As far as I’m concerned, his command to us was uncalled for.”

“You said yourself that you see me as the leader because you trust me,” Glorfindel reminded him.

“I know what I said, Loren, and it’s true, up to a point. We trust you because we know you, but don’t think that trust came easily or suddenly. You’ve proven yourself to us over the last couple of years. Finrod is too new here for any of us to really know him and trust him. A year from now, that might and most likely will change. I have no problem with how you decide amongst you who will be your leader, but recognize that we Mortals will have to deal with that leader and if there is no basis of trust, then we’re all in trouble.”

“Yet, you had no problem working with me from the very beginning,” Glorfindel pointed out.

“Shock,” Dave retorted with a grin. “We were all so much in shock that if you had told us to jump we would all have asked how high and in which direction. By the time the shock wore off we were too used to having you around. So, when you spoke, we listened.”

“That’s true,” Tim Saunders interjected. “I know that’s how I felt, but I agree with Dave. We may be clueless Mortals but we’re none of us babes in the woods. Whoever you decide should be your leader, we will respect that decision and work with that person for the benefit of all. Frankly, I’d like to see more of you lot be involved with government, be on the town council where policies are shaped.”

“There are reasons why we have not attempted to do so,” Glorfindel said. “Up to now we’ve primarily been concentrating on Elf Academy. We’re not in any position to take over Wiseman.”

“I’m not saying that,” Tim retorted. “I’m saying you should be more involved in policy-making. If you really want to succeed here you need to be seen as being more active in community life, including politics. Yeah, I know, politics is the bane of our existence, but it’s a fact of life and you need to acknowledge that. The upcoming mayoral election might be an opportunity for some of you to be more active in the community, working with the rest of us to assure that the right person gets elected.”

“Do we know who the candidates are at this point?” Amroth asked.

“I know Tom Peterson is in the running,” Dave answered with a snort of disgust. “He made the announcement within an hour of Harry’s. He’s got a strong backing with the conservative religious groups and the neo-Nazi Elf-haters as Carl likes to call them. I haven’t heard about any other candidates as yet, though they have to declare themselves by the end of the month to be considered in the running.”

“Then you have much to discuss and to plan,” Manwë said and nearly everyone started, having forgotten he was there. “And David, if I have offended you, I apologize. It was not my intent, but understand that I’ve known your people for a very long time and I know Wiseman quite well. You do not think that we Valar just drew Wiseman’s name out of a hat or threw darts at a map in making our decision to have the Elves come here, do you? No child, the plans for Wiseman and Elf Academy have been in the works for well over a century.”

“Wiseman’s only been settled since 1919,” Jenna Michaelson said. “Are you saying you’ve been watching us since the first settlers came?”

“Oh, for longer than that, my dear,” Manwë answered with a smile. “Who do you think inspired those first settlers to come here in the first place?” And before anyone could respond, he simply wasn’t there.

For a moment, no one moved, all of them staring at the space that Manwë had occupied. Finally, Finrod, who had remained silent through all the discussion, looked over at Glorfindel. “Shall we rule together, Brother?”

“I have no problems with that,” Glorfindel answered. “What about the rest of you?”

“What responsibilities will you share and what will be separate?” Daeron asked.

“Well, Elf Academy is mine, obviously,” Glorfindel said. “I wouldn’t mind having Finrod handle anything dealing with Wiseman, though. Elf Academy is headache enough.”

“And anything that falls into a gray area of concern, you can come to either one of us and we will issue a joint decision,” Finrod added.

“And that includes any problems you have about us,” Glorfindel said, gesturing to Finrod and then himself. “I know some of you aren’t happy about how I handled a certain episode recently, and that’s fine, but instead of griping behind our backs about it and spreading discontent through the rest of Edhellond, man up, as the Mortals say, and bring it to our attention so we can all deal with it out in the open. We need to start thinking of ourselves as one community and not as two.”

“Now, this was supposed to be a housewarming party, not a council meeting,” Finrod said. “So, let us put aside our concerns for the moment and enjoy ourselves, shall we? I do not know about anyone else but I think it is time to have fun. Does anyone know a good game that we can all play?”

“Hide and find?” Brethil suggested with a smile.

“But only if we find all the doors and windows are locked and we cannot get out,” Finrod retorted with a grin. “Besides, I do not think this house is big enough to hide in with much success.”

“Well, we hate to be party-poopers, but I have to be at work early tomorrow,” Dave said. “So we’ll say good night.”

“We’ll see you out,” Vorondur said and everyone said good-night to the Michaelsons. Nicole decided that she would leave as well, pleading the fact that it was already past Caleb’s bedtime and indeed the child was nearly asleep on his feet. Tim picked him up and carried him. Zach, Alex and Derek, however, decided to stay. Some of the Elves also left, those who were on duty at the hospital in the morning, stating that Gregory Harris would be testing them on certain procedures.

“We need to review our notes,” Laurendil said as he, Manwen and Vardamir said good night. “We’ll see you all later.”

The rest of the Elves decided to entertain themselves with song and story and that is how the remainder of the evening went. Alex, Derek and Zach excused themselves around midnight and everyone wished them a good night. Finda, Calandil and Elennen went with them, stating that they wished to return to Edhellond. Alex offered them a ride, which they accepted. Once they saw Zach on his way, they climbed into Alex’s car. No one spoke as Alex maneuvered along the silent streets of Wiseman. He pulled into Edhellond and the three Elves climbed out. Finda knocked on Alex’s window, which he opened.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” Alex asked.

“For doing what we could not,” came the answer. “I do not know if it will do any good, but we hope that what you both had to say tonight will cause others to think carefully about their own attitudes concerning Mortals.”

“You’ve certainly changed your tune on that score,” Alex couldn’t help saying with a grin.

Finda seemed to blush, though it was difficult to see in the darkness. “I had good teachers,” he said. “We all did. Good night.” He stepped away and Alex and Derek called out good-nights before Alex closed the window and drove off.





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