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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

24: Domino Effect

The week went by without much fanfare. Finrod continued to report to work and Glorfindel was busy with Academy affairs as he and Daeron and the others who were on the admissions committee began wading through the pile of applications for the next class. And, of course, there were the normal administrative duties related to the college that needed to be addressed, which meant dealing with the new college president, George Stillman.

“Damn Richard for dying when he did,” Glorfindel exclaimed one late afternoon as he stormed into the kitchen after returning from a college meeting with the president. “He had no right to leave us in the lurch like this.”

Alphwen and Helyanwë were there preparing dinner. Helyanwë stopped what she was doing to put the kettle on while Alphwen continued putting together the shepherd’s pie that would be that evening’s main dish. “George being obtuse again?” she asked sympathetically.

“To say the least,” Glorfindel replied, flopping into a seat at the breakfast nook, running his hands through his hair in a distracted manner. Helyanwë came over and sat across from him, taking one of his hands and holding it in wordless support. Glorfindel gave her a brief smile as he continued to answer Alphwen’s question. “The Man is impossible at times. He has no real love for Elves and he resents me in particular. I just wish someone else had been chosen to take Richard’s place, someone who actually believes that we are here to help, not take over the world. Why would we want to rule the blasted place, anyway?”

“What about the other administrators? How do they feel?” Alphwen asked.

“Oh, they’ll toe the party line that George is spouting and go along with it if they want to keep their jobs,” Glorfindel’s tone was acerbic.

“But George doesn’t have the power to fire them,” Alphwen pointed out. “They’ve all been appointed by their respective departments.”

“True, but some of them are just as disgusted with George as I am and I fear that if push comes to shove they’ll quit and then whoever takes their places will be as anti-Elf as George is and I’ll be in worse trouble.”

“Is he really so against us?” Alphwen asked, frowning as she placed the shepherd’s pie into the oven and set the timer.

“Apparently,” Glorfindel replied. “While Richard was alive he managed to remain civil in my presence and keep his feelings to himself. I warned Richard once that George could cause trouble but the Man wouldn’t listen. He and George were old friends from their college days.” He shook his head at the obstinacy of Mortals.

“Friendship is a powerful thing,” Helyanwë said softly, her expression one that Glorfindel could not interpret.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Glorfindel allowed. “I can’t really blame Richard, but I wish he hadn’t died when he did.”

Alphwen, meanwhile, took the kettle off the boil and proceeded to put together some mint tea for them all, handing mugs to Glorfindel and Helyanwë and then pouring one for herself. She settled on a stool by the island.

“You are wrong, you know,” Helyanwë said.

“How do you mean? George—”

“I am not speaking of the Mortal,” the elleth interjected. “I am speaking about you and your relationship with Lord Finrod.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “Lord Finrod, is it? Up to now you’ve always called him ‘Uncle’. Why so formal?”

“Because you refuse to be,” Helyanwë exclaimed with some heat.

Glorfindel blinked, not sure how to respond. Alphwen stood up and said, “I think I’ll leave you two alone.” Before Glorfindel could protest, she left, taking her tea with her. Glorfindel frowned at Helyanwë.

“Helena, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“There is nothing wrong with showing proper respect for one’s superiors,” she replied, not quite looking at him.

“Finrod is your uncle.”

“He is also my prince, as he is yours,” she retorted.

“Whoa! Slow down. I have never given him my allegiance. If anyone has it it’s Turgon.”

“But Finrod is our lord, the highest ranking among us, and I think it’s time you remembered it.”

Glorfindel glared at her. “We’re also gwedyr, in case you’ve forgotten, and you’ve heard Finrod call me ‘hanno’, as if I were his blood-brother indeed. I suspect he still calls your great-grandfather Sador that as well.”

“Grandfather Sador is a prince,” Helyanwë said rather primly.

“And I’m not, is that it?” Glorfindel shot back. “Helena, we’ve agreed to share leadership duties. Why are you so upset about that?”

“I am not sure I approve of this… this demo…democrasy…”

“Democracy,” Glorfindel corrected automatically.

“Thank you. Democracy. It’s an absurd notion, thinking everyone is equal. There are always those who are superior to others. Lord Finrod is a prince of Eldamar, Arafinwë’s acknowledged heir, and you treat him with no more respect than you treat any of the Mortals and they take their cue from you, so they treat Uncle with the same level of disrespect.”

“It’s not disrespect,” Glorfindel protested. “It’s just the way it is. The Mortals of this country, at least, believe that respect is earned, not a given. Just because someone has a fancy title, it doesn’t mean that they are worthy of respect. They have to prove it, and if the way Mortals show it seems odd to you, I’m sorry. They are not being disrespectful. Believe me, if they were, you’d know it.”

“Well, I think you have been tainted by them, you and all the Wiseman Elves. You may have been their leader, but once Lord Finrod arrived, you should have immediately acknowledged him as your lord and given over your right to lead us. This sharing of power is absurd. What happens if you both disagree about a matter? How do you resolve it? Do you have a trial by combat? Do you put it to a vote with the rest of us? Or do you play that silly game I saw Cennanion and Barahir play the other day when they could not decide who would stack the firewood? What is it called?” She held up a fist and then extended two fingers in a V before opening her hand with the palm down.

“Rock, scissors, paper,” Glorfindel supplied, his voice gone cold, though the elleth sitting across from him didn’t seem to notice.

“Absurd, all of it,” she said disdainfully. “Finrod is a prince and you are but a lord, a lord of a House that does not even exist anymore.”

Glorfindel felt a shock run through him and he clenched the edge of the table tightly, his breathing sounding harsh to his ears as he tried to get himself under control. Helyanwë leaned back, her eyes slit, watching him warily.

“Is that what you think of me?” he whispered, his tone more sad than angry, refusing to look at her. “The last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship and dignity?” He remembered Gandalf telling him of these last words of the last Ruling Steward of Gondor so long ago, oh, so very long ago, and he felt suddenly tired. Without giving the elleth a chance to answer, he pulled himself out of the seat, stormed over to the back door, throwing it open, and slamming it behind him.

****

Serindë and Elrohir made their way to the kitchen, both of them wearing light jackets. They had planned to spend some time alone in the woods but when they heard voices, they stopped, shamelessly listening to the argument between Glorfindel and Helyanwë. At the sound of the back door slamming, Serindë drew her lover away back to the front foyer.

“Take me home,” she hissed.

Elrohir gave her a confused look. “Home? You are home.”

“I mean to my parents. Take me there.”

“Why are you so angry?” Elrohir asked. “I’m the one who should be angry the way she insulted Loren.”

“I just am. I’m going to go pack.” She started up the stairs.

“Wait! Pack? Why are you packing? Sarah, what in tarnation is going on?”

“I refuse to stay here with those stuck up… I’ll be down in five minutes. Go warm up the car.” With that she practically raced up the stairs, leaving a bemused Elrohir standing there, gaping. After a moment, he shook his head and went to do as he’d been told.

****

“Sarah, Roy, what a surprise!” Nimrodel exclaimed as she opened the door to find the two standing there. Elrohir was carrying a couple of pieces of luggage. “Come in, come in. To what do we owe the pleasure? Are you going somewhere?”

“No further than here, Della,” Elrohir said as he put the luggage down. “Sarah is moving out of Edhellond.”

Nimrodel gave them a surprised look. “Moving out? But why? No, let’s go find the others and you can tell us what is going on. Hang up your coats and take off your boots. Leave the luggage here for now.”

The two younger Elves did as she bid and then they began to follow her down the hall, but she raised her hand and they stopped while she continued on, stopping before a closed door, knocking on it. They heard Vorondur call out and she opened it.

“Sorry to disturb you, Ron, but your daughter is here and she’s very upset. She brought some luggage.”

“What? The wedding is off?” Vorondur exclaimed.

In spite of things, Elrohir and Serindë exchanged amused grins. “No, the wedding is not off,” Nimrodel said with a light laugh. “Roy is here with her.” The door flung open and Nimrodel stepped back as Vorondur strode out, opening his arms when he saw Serindë. She went to him and he embraced her while Elrohir joined them.

“What is it, child? What has you upset?” he asked, giving Elrohir a quizzical look.

“We overheard Helena and Loren arguing,” Elrohir answered for his fiancé.

Vorondur frowned, pulling his daughter out of his embrace to look at her. “Daughter? Surely you cannot be upset over that alone. People argue all the time. Even you and Roy argue.”

“It wasn’t that they were arguing, Ada, it was what they were arguing about,” Serindë said.

Vorondur gave her a searching look, then came to a decision. “Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable? Della, could we trouble you for some more tea?”

“No problem, Ron,” Nimrodel answered with a smile.

“I’ll give you a hand, Della.” Elrohir looked over Vorondur’s shoulder to see Daeron stepping out of the office, smiling at them.

“Oh, you’re in a session,” Serindë said, taking in the import of the loremaster’s presence. “We didn’t mean to—”

“It’s quite all right, Sarah,” Vorondur said soothingly. “Come inside and compose yourself. Darren and I will continue our discussion another time. Where’s my wife and your husband?” he addressed this last to Nimrodel.

“Holly was on the computer the last time I looked and Amroth is up in the nursery painting a mural on the walls. When I peeked in a while ago he was complaining that the walls weren’t tall enough to do a mallorn properly.”

They all grinned at that. “Well, see if you can tear them away from their work to join us,” Vorondur said. “I have a feeling we’re all going to want to hear what Sarah and Roy have to say.”

“I’ll go get Amroth,” Daeron suggested and, he and Nimrodel went back down the hall, leaving the others to themselves. Vorondur ushered Serindë into his office and asked Elrohir to pull a couple of chairs from the dining room so everyone could sit. The room was not overly large and seven people would make for cramped quarters. Ercassë showed up just as Elrohir was bringing in the last chair and then Daeron came, stating that Amroth was helping Nimrodel with the tea. No one asked any questions. Ercassë gave her daughter a hug and kissed Elrohir on the cheek in greeting. A few minutes later, Amroth came in with a tray, smelling faintly of turpentine, with Nimrodel right behind carrying another tray. They busied themselves with the tea and then when all were settled, Vorondur gave his daughter a nod.

“Right. Why don’t you start from the beginning,” he said. “You overheard an argument between Loren and Helena. A lover’s spat?”

“Not exactly,” Elrohir replied. He glanced at Serindë, who nodded, and then he proceeded to explain what they had overheard.

Daeron went pale and Amroth’s hands clenched in anger, while Nimrodel and Ercassë both looked shocked. Only Vorondur showed no emotion, his expression shuttered, but his eyes glittered. Elrohir was unsure what that meant. Vorondur was a full-blooded Noldo, not a half-breed like himself, and while he rarely displayed his power, the younger ellon was well aware of it and respected it. When he finished his narrative, describing hearing the sound of the back door slamming, Serindë spoke.

“I decided I could no longer remain under the same roof as those snobs,” she explained, “so I had Roy bring me here. I’ll sleep on the couch…”

“We do have a guest room, dear,” Ercassë said, gently admonishing her.

“I fear Helena’s views are not unique among the Valinórean Elves,” Daeron said, looking a little grim, “and this is not the first time I’ve heard Helena disparage Loren. Let me tell you what I overheard not too long ago.” And he gave them a quick synopsis of the conversation. When he began describing what had been said about Amroth, he gave the ellon an apologetic look, while Amroth simply looked embarrassed. Nimrodel put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him.

“They had no right!” Elrohir exclaimed angrily, looking at Amroth. “How dare they say that about you!”

“Well it’s true as far as it goes,” Vorondur interjected calmly before Amroth could comment.

Elrohir stared at his future father-in-law in disbelief. “I’m not saying that I agree with their assessment of Amroth,” Vorondur amended. “Obviously, they have no idea what kingship entails if all they can see is bloodlines, but he is Silvan and he never saw the Light of the Trees.”

“Neither did you,” Amroth retorted mildly.

“None of us did,” Daeron added. “The only one of us who has is Loren. Even among the Valinórean Elves only a handful can be said to have seen the Trees.”

“Well, if Helena thinks we’ve all been tainted by the Mortals, I wonder if others feel the same way,” Ercassë said.

“I thought we’d resolved all this the other night at the party,” Amroth commented with a scowl. “Surely Lord Manwë’s presence had to have helped ameliorate the resentment that’s been piling up between us.”

“Perhaps it would have been more effective if it had been Lord Námo who showed up,” Elrohir suggested with a feral grin. More than one person shuddered at that thought.

“Regardless, it appears that Helena, at least, still has some issues about this,” Vorondur said, running a hand through his hair, looking a little distracted. “I was hoping that the anger management classes would help, but the classes have only met a couple of times so far and there hasn’t been an opportunity to discuss things, especially since the party. I’ve been meaning to speak with Max and Sunny about what happened so they could address it in their groups, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

“It sounds as if we have our work cut out for us, then,” Daeron said.

They all looked at him. “What do you mean?” Ercassë asked.

“I mean, that we Wiseman Elves need to find a way to show our kin from Valinor that we are not the… the country bumpkins they think we are and that we haven’t gone native, so to speak, even though we have in many ways.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Elrohir said with a huff, then he gave them a wicked grin. “Some of my best friends are Mortals. I just wouldn’t want one of them marrying my sister.”

They all dutifully groaned at that and Vorondur shook his head, giving his future son-in-law a knowing look. Elrohir smirked.

“Well, I’ve decided I’m not inviting them to the wedding,” Serindë said. “Snobs, every last one of them.”

“Including Finrod or the Three Amigos as Alex and Derek like to call them?” Vorondur asked mildly. “And what about Nell? You promised her she could be in the wedding party. Will you deny her that?”

Serindë shook her head, looking suitably chastened.

“Making blanket statements about them is no better than they making blanket statements about us,” Vorondur continued, “and if we are to rise above all this pettiness that lies between us, we need to practice our own version of the Golden Rule.”

“So what do we do?” Elrohir asked.

“My main concern is Loren at the moment,” Vorondur replied. “He’s on a knife’s edge emotionally and we’ve only just begun to address his anger issues. Helena picked a bad time to air her feelings. I wonder if she truly loves him or just thinks she does.”

“She’s like most females I’ve known,” Amroth said with a sly grin. “Just as soon as they have you in their grasp they try to remake you into what they think you should be instead of accepting you for what you are.”

All three ellith looked offended. Nimrodel punched Amroth in the arm and Amroth laughed. Vorondur nodded. “True, true,” he said deadpan, ignoring the glares from his wife and daughter, and then he gave Elrohir a wicked look. “So watch yourself, Sonny.”

“Don’t worry, Ada, I will,” Elrohir said right on cue.

Daeron started humming a tune and then quietly sang: “You’re probably thinking that you’re going to change me, in some ways well maybe you might, scrub me down, dress me up but no matter what, I’m still a guy.”

Elrohir chuckled and started singing part of another verse, singing to Serindë, his eyes twinkling with mischief: “I don’t highlight my hair, I’ve still got a pair, yeah, I’m still a guy.”

And then Amroth and Vorondur joined in with the final chorus: “Oh my eyebrows ain’t plucked, there’s a gun in my truck, oh thank God I’m still a guy.”

 “Men!” Ercassë muttered with a disgusted shake of her head and the ellyn laughed loudly while the ellith rolled their eyes.

“Well, at any rate,” Vorondur said once they calmed down, “you’ll stay for dinner at least, the two of you.” He nodded to Elrohir and Daeron, both of whom accepted the invitation. “And Sarah, you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you wish, even until the wedding, but it would be better if you and Roy found your own place sooner rather than later.”

“Working on it, Ron,” Elrohir said. “We’ve not found a place we can both agree on yet, but as of now I’m making it my first priority. I think I need to move out of Edhellond as well, and I know Dan’s been hinting about it also.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?” Vorondur asked as they all got up from their chairs to exit the room. “The two of you are rarely far apart from one another.”

“He and Vardamir are at St. Luke’s working the night shift at the Urgent Care Center. We’re taking turns helping out there,” Elrohir answered.

“I hope Loren is all right,” Amroth said.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine once he’s calmed down,” Daeron said, though he looked a bit doubtful about it.

“I wonder what Finrod will do when he learns of it?” Nimrodel asked and everyone nodded.

****

Finrod could tell something was wrong even before he opened the door. He’d been working late at the bookstore, taking over so Nicholas could go to his dental appointment. It was now nearly eight and he had been looking forward to a quiet dinner, but the tension in the air warned him that that might not happen. He resisted a sigh as he stepped inside, doffing his cloak and hanging it up. He could hear voices raised in anger further down the hall and he made his way to the kitchen where he found Alphwen, Helyanwë and Cennanion. Alphwen was glaring at Helyanwë who was looking very miserable while Cennanion was on the phone speaking to someone. They all turned to see Finrod and three sets of eyebrows rose almost as one.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s happened, Susan,” Cennanion was saying into the phone. “That’s not like him… Okay, no problem… Talk with you later.” He hung up.

“What is going on?” Finrod asked quietly.

For a moment no one spoke, then Cennanion sighed. “That was the Adult Education Center asking about Loren. He was supposed to teach a class tonight and never showed up.”

Finrod felt a frisson of fear rush through him. “Where is he?” he asked the three.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Alphwen said, looking both angry and worried. “The last time anyone saw him was almost four hours ago. He and Helena were… um… having a discussion.”

Finrod gave her a considering look before turning his attention to Helyanwë. “Daughter?” he asked and the elleth cringed at the tone. This was not ‘Uncle Finrod’ standing before her, but ‘Prince Findaráto’ and technically her guardian since she was unmarried.

“We had a… a disagreement,” she said softly, not quite looking at him.

Finrod gave her a skeptical look. “A disagreement. About what?”

When Helyanwë did not answer immediately, Alphwen stepped in, giving her an angry look. “Go on. Tell him. Tell him what you said to Loren to drive him away.”

“What do you mean by that?” Finrod asked.

Alphwen grimaced. “Just that I heard the back door slam. I was up in the sunroom and saw Loren stalk away. I watched him head for the woods and that’s the last any of us has seen of him. No matter how angry he might have been he would never have shirked his duties towards the Mortals. He takes them seriously. He never showed up for dinner but I didn’t think about it at the time. I thought perhaps he simply went into town to eat before going to his class. But when we got the call just now from the Center, I knew something was wrong.”

Finrod sighed, realizing that he was unlikely to have any dinner, quiet or otherwise. “Cennanion, who else is here?”

“Hmm… Barry and the Three Amigos and Nell for sure. I think the two Legolases are around here somewhere. Not sure about anyone else.”

“Gather everyone who is here,” Finrod said decisively. “We will meet in the conference room in ten minutes. We will need torches as well.”

“What do you mean to do?” Helyanwë asked.

“Search for Glorfindel, of course,” Finrod replied somewhat coldly. “We will quarter the woods and hope we can pick up his trail and if we are very lucky we may actually find him. I hope for your sake, Daughter, that we find him in one piece.”

Helyanwë looked stricken at the implication of his words. Finrod turned to Cennanion. “You have your orders,” he said.

“My lord,” the ellon replied, giving him a short bow before exiting.

“Go to the conference room,” Finrod commanded the two ellith. “I will be there shortly after I’ve cleaned up a bit.”

The two ellith gave him brief curtsies and left. Finrod closed his eyes for a moment, sighed and then headed for the back stairs. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long night for them all.

****

Ada: (Sindarin) Hypocoristic form of adar: Father.

Note: The song the ellyn sing is Brad Paisley’s, “I’m Still a Guy”. My thanks to Ellie for providing me with the lyrics. As always, you can hear it on Youtube.





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