33: A Quiet Evening

By mutual consent, no one spoke about the events of the last twenty-four hours as they sat around the dinner table enjoying the venison stew. Instead, the main topic of conversation revolved around the list of names Nimrodel and Amroth were compiling for the babies. The fetuses had not developed far enough along for anyone to determine their gender as yet so the list included names for both boys and girls. At the top of the list (for now) were ‘Elfrida’ and ‘Aubrey’.

“At least Della likes Aubrey,” Amroth said. “I’m actually leaning toward Alexander, myself.”

“We’re hoping for one of each,” Nimrodel told them. “I don’t fancy having to deal with another set of identical twins. Dealing with Dan and Roy is headache enough.”

Everyone laughed at that. Finrod wondered why the list consisted only of Mortal names. “Surely they should be given Elvish names, for they are Elves, after all,” he said.

“They will be legally known by the surname McKinley,” Amroth pointed out, “and their birth certificates will reflect that. We’ve decided that their given names will be drawn from the Mortal culture and when they are old enough to decide for themselves, then they may choose an Elvish name if they so desire. We will have an essecilmë ceremony for them.”

They moved on to other topics of a more political type, discussing the upcoming mayoral race and who might be running for office. So far none had declared themselves  as candidates other than Tom Peterson.

“And we do not want that bigot in office if at all possible,” Amroth exclaimed with disgust. “If I have to, I’ll run myself. I ruled over an entire kingdom. I think I can handle one measly town.”

“Well, let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” Vorondur said with a grin. “I don’t fancy having to address you as Mr. Mayor every time I meet you in the hallway.”

Amroth gave him a smirk and the others chuckled.

During the dessert course, while everyone nibbled on shortbread and drank chamomile tea, Vorondur turned to Finrod and said, “I tried to see Loren after I left the bookstore, but Kyle has ordered that none of us Elves are to be allowed into his room.”

Finrod nodded as he started to take a sip of tea. “On my orders, actually.”

Everyone stared at him in surprise. “Do you mind explaining why?” Vorondur asked in a carefully neutral tone. “Even if you forbid certain people to be there I don’t like the idea of Loren being surrounded solely by Mortals.”

“Nor do I,” Finrod said, putting down his cup, “but I spoke with Kyle while you were… er…”

“Unconscious, I think is the word you’re looking for,” Vorondur supplied with a smile.

“Yes, thank you. At any rate, I felt that, for now, it would be best if we allow the Mortals to tend to him. Other than Elladan and Elrohir, none of the other healers really have any experience with the sort of trauma Glorfindel has suffered. We do not bother with blood transfusions since our master healers are capable of inducing blood production if needed. I know why we gave Glorfindel transfusions and I allowed it because there was no other option given his condition, but Vardamir and Eärnur simply did not have the requisite experience with the dangers of transfusions and so they made what could have been a fatal error in judgment. Only Kyle’s quick actions prevented that tragedy from happening. I think, for now, we will let the Mortals handle things. I will look in on Glorfindel in the morning before I go to work and let everyone know how he is doing. When we are ready to bring him out of healing sleep and he is awake, then I will allow visitors.”

“And you feel you alone have this authority,” Vorondur stated.

Finrod nodded. “Yes, both because I am the highest ranking Elf among us and because I am also Glorfindel’s nearest kin by virtue of the fact that Atar unofficially adopted him when he was released from Lórien and we have always considered ourselves brothers.”

“He had no family in Valinor, then?” Nimrodel asked, looking sad at the thought.

“None who would acknowledge him and his parents still resided in Mandos,” Finrod replied. “You must not worry for him. He was well loved by my parents and he and Sador and I considered ourselves brothers, since my own brothers had yet to be released from Mandos. By the time his own parents were reborn, Glorfindel had been out for several centuries and was mature enough to deal with having Reborn parents. When he was not traveling on the business of either Ingwë or the Valar, he resided in Aewellond with Eärendil and Elwing and that’s where his parents lived as well, still do, as a matter of fact.”

Ercassë was about to comment, when the phone rang from the kitchen, startling them all. “I’ll get it,” she said, rising. They heard her answer the phone. “Just a minute. Finrod, it’s Kyle.”

Finrod got up and everyone else did as well, following the Elf-prince into the kitchen where he took the phone from Ercassë. “Yes, Kyle? Is anything the matter?” He sounded calm but Vorondur noticed the tightness around his mouth and his brow was wrinkled in worry, but then his face relaxed and he smiled. “That is good news. Thank you. Yes, sorry about that. I was… um… upset with certain people and in my haste to leave the premises, I left my phone at Edhellond when I got home from work. I am afraid I am unused to it still…. Yes, I will tell him…. No. We have not heard from either one… I would like to give them a piece of my mind, too, but, knowing those two, I am afraid they would misplace it.” They heard laughter from the other end.

Finrod wished the Mortal a good night and hung up, turning to the others. “Glorfindel is responding positively to treatment and he is breathing on his own again.”

There was a general lifting of tension all around. “Well, that’s a relief,” Amroth said.

“Ron,” Finrod said, “Kyle asked me to tell you that he does not blame you for becoming incensed with Eärnur and Vardamir. He said to tell you that had you not gotten to Eärnur first, he would have gone after the ellon himself for his arrogance.”

“I appreciate him saying that but it really does not excuse my behavior,” Vorondur responded.

“Perhaps not, but it is understandable,” Finrod rejoined. “Indeed, I was feeling a bit uncharitable myself at the time. We Elves are very arrogant. I know I suffer from that particular disease at times, but I have endeavored to learn humility over the ages.” He gave them a crooked smile. “I suppose it’s easier to learn humility when one has to deal with the memories of how one was while abiding in Mandos.”

“We have never learned what that was like for anyone,” Vorondur said. “Loren refuses to speak of it.”

“And rightly so. As Fionwë might say, what happens in Mandos stays in Mandos. Now I think I should be going.”

“Oh surely not!” Ercassë protested. “The storm hasn’t lifted and you shouldn’t be walking in it. It’s too dangerous. You’ll spend the night here. If you don’t wish to sleep, I’m sure one of us will be up or you can read or even watch TV.”

“You may not be able to get to work tomorrow,” Vorondur pointed out. “It’s not too late in the evening. Why don’t you call Nick and find out what he intends to do? He may decide to open late.”

“I do not have my phone on me though, so I do not have his number.”

“Not a problem,” Amroth said, pulling out the phone book and looking up the number. “Good, it’s not an unlisted number. Here you go.” He rattled off the number as Finrod punched it in. After a few rings, he got through.

“Good evening, Nicholas,” Finrod said, “I am calling to find out about tomorrow. I am told that this storm may prevent you from opening the store… Oh, I could easily walk no matter how much snow falls… Ah, of course. I had not thought of that… Then we will just see how the storm progresses. I am not at Edhellond and I left my phone there. Here is the number where you can reach me.” He gave Nick the landline number that was printed on the phone. “Yes, that is correct… Then I will wait to hear from you. Good night, Nicholas.”

He hung up and gave the others a smile. “It seems that I will be spending the night, then. Let me call Edhellond to let them know.”

“I’ll make some more tea, then,” Ercassë said. “Ron, you want to check the weather channel and find out how extensive this storm is?”

“I’m on it,” Vorondur said and exited the kitchen.

“How are you holding up, dear?” Amroth asked Nimrodel as Finrod called Edhellond and Ercassë bustled about. He wrapped an arm around her solicitously.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied, patting his arm. “As long as Finrod is staying the night, why don’t we spend some time trading songs and stories? I rather miss doing that now that we’re living away from Edhellond.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Amroth said, giving her a kiss. “And it’s a good night for it.”

Vorondur came in just then. “It looks as if the Siberian Express is well and truly upon us. According to the meteorologists, this storm’s bound to last for at least another day. Schools have already been canceled for tomorrow.”

“Well, nothing we can do about that,” Ercassë said philosophically as she placed tea paraphernalia on a tray. “Let’s retire to the living room. Ron, why don’t you put some more shortbread on a plate for us?”

Vorondur complied with the orders and in a short while they were sitting comfortably in the living room where Amroth turned on the electric insert in the fireplace. “Not like the real thing, but environmentally more friendly,” he said to Finrod as the fake logs lit up. “I’ve suggested that they retrofit the fireplaces at Edhellond, but so far, no one’s done anything about it.”

“We’re old fashioned that way,” Vorondur said with a smile, then he turned to Finrod, his expression more sober. “Can you arrange for me to speak with Ernest? I want to apologize to him and assure myself that he is well.”

“I will see what I can do,” Finrod said, “but for now, let us forget about what happened earlier and enjoy each other’s company. Shall I tell you about the time I got lost in a blizzard and how a Mortal rescued me?”

The others all nodded.

“Well, I was visiting my brothers in Dorthonion, checking the Leaguer, when a storm came up rather suddenly and….”

****

The storm continued through the night. The Elves spent the time trading stories of their lives. Around two in the morning, Nimrodel excused herself, stating she needed to lie down for a while, and Amroth went with her. Ercassë decided that she wished to read, so she left as well, leaving Finrod and Vorondur to themselves. They spoke of inconsequential things then. Finrod expressed a desire to see something beyond Wiseman.

“I would like to visit this Fairbanks. I understand it is much larger than Wiseman,” he said.

“Oh yes, much larger, what is considered a city, though by comparison to cities such as New York or L.A., it’s not very large at all,” Vorondur told him. “We will need to go there for the trial anyway, or at least some of us will need to. While you are there for that there will be time to see some of the sights. It’s a lovely city, really.”

Around six, with no let-up of the storm, Finrod decided that he should try to return to Edhellond. “I cannot stay here,” he said. “There are some matters that need to be dealt with. I have yet to speak with Helyanwë as to what happened between her and Glorfindel that caused him to leave and go to that bar.”

“We only know what Roy and Sarah told us,” Vorondur said. “They overheard something of the argument but not all of it.”

“And what you know is hearsay,” Finrod said with a nod. “I need to learn it from Helyanwë and, when he awakes, from Glorfindel.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing seems to be going right. This is not how it was supposed to be.”

Vorondur leaned over to speak in a more confidential manner as if the ellon were one of his patients. “Finrod, it never is. As the Mortal poet Robert Burns put it: ‘the best laid schemes of Mice and Men oft go awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain for promised joy’. It is simply the way of the world, and I doubt that life in Valinor is all that rosy and perfect, either.”

“No, that is true,” Finrod allowed. “I guess I was expecting… I am not sure what I was expecting, but Glorfindel is almost a stranger to me. He has changed.”

“And so have you, if I’m not mistaken,” Vorondur said. “Life is all about change, even if most of the Eldar in Valinor do not believe this. It is a lesson that they need to relearn, I think, from what little any of you have said about it. The very fact that any of you are here is a testament that you know that change is necessary if we are to survive as a race. It saddens and frightens me to think that no children have been born since before the last ice age. That means that your society is stagnating and that is a dangerous thing to happen.”

“They are afraid,” Finrod explained. “They have no assurance that when the end comes that they will survive it. If our lives are bound to Arda, then when Arda ends, so do we, or so that is the prevailing thought.”

“And because of that, they have already given up on themselves as a people,” Vorondur said. “They have doomed themselves, though I do not think they realize this.”

“When the Valar announced that they were permitting some of us to return to Middle-earth, I thought that there would be many asking to go,” Finrod explained, “and there were, but not as many as I thought there should be, considering all those who had once lived here. And of course, some of those who came with me have never been, like Aldarion and Valandur. They asked to come out of curiosity more than anything else.”

“And that is a hopeful sign, that there is still a spark of curiosity in some,” Vorondur said as he stood and went to the window overlooking the street, pulling back the drapes to look out. “Well, I don’t think we’re going anywhere for the moment. This storm is not going to let up for hours I suspect. Probably by the afternoon they’ll get around to clearing the roads once the storm passes.” He turned to Finrod. “If you wish to shower and change clothes, Amroth and I can lend you some.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” Finrod said, giving him a wry look. “And my original plan for the evening was to spend it quietly with my son. We have not had a chance to speak to one another lately and I desired to know how he and his gwedyr were doing as they prepare for college.”

“I’m sure they are very excited and Nell, too,” Vorondur responded with a smile. “It will be a whole new experience for them. I am glad they have already made friends with some of the Mortals. It will make it easier for them.”

“I am tempted to encourage some of the others to take courses at the college, particularly history. I think it is important for us to know as much about the Mortal world as we can if we are to be of any use in helping them and teaching them what they need to know.”

“That’s a good idea. You can audit the courses. That means that you sit in on the classes and, if you wish, you can take the exams but you’re not there to receive a degree. A number of adults, especially senior citizens do that as well as attend classes at the Adult Education Center. If you’re really interested, I can get you the relevant information about available classes.”

“Thank you. I would like that.”

“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, if you want to take a shower, now is the time to do it while everyone else is either asleep or otherwise occupied. I’ll get you some clean clothes and while you’re showering I’ll start putting some breakfast together. Della will be waking soon and she’ll be hungry.”

Finrod thanked him and then Vorondur went to find him some clothes and a towel. Soon Finrod was enjoying a hot shower and when he emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt, he found that everyone else was in the kitchen where Vorondur was preparing pancakes for breakfast.

While that was going on Finrod called Edhellond where he ended up speaking with Daeron who assured him that all was calm and Eärnur was improving. He then called the hospital to get an update on Glorfindel’s condition and was told that the ellon had had a restful night.

“As soon as this storm passes, I will have one of our healers come to check on his condition,” Finrod said to the nurse, “so we can determine when to bring him out of healing sleep.”

With that he hung up, letting the others know how Glorfindel was. They all expressed relief that all was well there, though Ercassë said she wished Serindë would call and let them know where she and the Twins were.

“I’m sure they’ll call soon enough,” Vorondur said, giving her a kiss and hug. “Sarah will not wish to worry us for long. We’ll give them another day and if we haven’t heard from them, I’ll start calling every hotel in Fairbanks until I find them.”

Ercassë had to be content with that. “Well, let’s not let the pancakes get cold,” she said briskly and in a matter of minutes they were all sitting down to breakfast while the storm continued.

****

Essecilmë: (Quenya) Name-choosing, an Eldarin ceremony where a child names him- or herself according to personal lámatyávë or ‘sound-taste’.

Notes:

1. Elfrida: Old English ‘Elf-counsel’ (a feminine form of Alfred); Aubrey: French ‘Elf-king’ (derived from the Germanic ‘Alberich’); Alexander; Greek ‘Defender of Men’.

2. The quotation from Robert Burns is the correct translation of the original poem, To a Mouse, 1785, where the word ‘schemes’ is used instead of ‘plans’.