40: Meanwhile, Back in Wiseman…

Finrod skirted around a couple of teenagers carrying skates as they headed for the skating rink and he was heading back to Edhellond after working his shift at the bookstore. They gave him shy smiles as they passed and Finrod smiled back. The sight of the children reminded him that he had yet to purchase Finda’s skates as he had promised, but so much had happened of late to drive such thoughts away and even his son had not brought the matter to his attention. He resolved to speak to Daeron about it. Perhaps the loremaster or one of the other Wiseman Elves could accompany him and Finda to the store, since he actually had no idea where one bought such things. At the moment, though, everyone’s attention was focused on Glorfindel and the missing three. Of course, Vorondur was sure that they weren’t so much missing as they were misplaced.

“They’re in Fairbanks,” he told Finrod when he had stopped at the bookstore to ‘chat’, as he had put it. “That much I know, if I know nothing else.”

“Yes, but how can you be sure?” Finrod asked. “Even I cannot sense another, not even one of my own children, from that distance.”

“Because Fairbanks is far enough away to feel as if they’ve escaped, but close enough to feel as if they’re only vacationing instead of running away,” Vorondur answered. “It’s a psychological thing. The Twins are angry, and who can blame them? They needed to get away to cool off.” He sighed. “I just wish they had come to me first. I might have been able to help them.”

“You cannot do everything, Ron,” Finrod said sympathetically, “and, unfortunately, neither can I.”

Finrod stopped walking as he considered that bit of wisdom. It was true: he could not do everything and that realization depressed him more than it should. It had never troubled him before, but lately, when it seemed as if everything in his life was spinning out of control, the fact that he could not seem to hold the center together disturbed him and made him question himself, wondering whatever possessed the Valar to send him to Middle-earth so woefully unprepared. He felt lost at sea and the sharks were circling.

He chuckled humorlessly at that. Until he had come here he had never heard of sharks, but he had caught a show on the ‘tee-vee’ where someone had used that expression and Cennanion, who was watching with him, explained its meaning, even going so far as to find a program depicting the creatures. The sight of them had made him shudder and he wondered how Lord Ulmo could tolerate the creatures in his realm.

He shook himself and trudged on. If he did not hurry, he would be late, for he was on his way home to have some dinner and then he would go to the hospital to help guard Glorfindel. Kyle Stoner had permitted the Elves to return to watch over their friend, however, only non-healers were allowed.

“I don’t want a repeat of the near-disaster we had the other day,” Kyle had told Finrod and Daeron when he had lifted the ban on the Elves. “Anyone who stands watch over Loren is to have no medical knowledge. If something happens, they call for the nurses to handle it and if they can’t, they know enough to call for me or another doctor.”

That had not set well with the healers, especially Vardamir and Eärnur, but Finrod had given his consent to Kyle’s prohibition. “You have a little knowledge about Mortal medicine,” he had told them, “and as we all know, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Continue your training and be obedient to your teachers.”

“Honestly, Finrod, you sound as if you’re speaking to elflings,” Vardamir had protested.

“And perhaps if you keep that in mind, you will not make the same mistake you made with Glorfindel,” Finrod had responded, perhaps more coldly than he had meant, for he saw the healers flinch at his tone, but he refused to apologize.

He stopped in his tracks again, wondering what he was hearing. Looking about, he realized he had reached St. Mary’s. It was all lit up and music was pouring from it, faint perhaps to Mortal ears, but clear enough to his, and someone was singing a haunting melody. The sound drew him and he stepped inside the church. The music stopped almost as he did so but he heard the murmur of voices coming from somewhere and the rustling of bodies. The foyer area was not lit but the sanctuary was, so he went further in and saw Charles Waverly sitting in a pew close to the front, apparently reading, but he was alone and the voices were coming from above. Finrod stepped further in and looked up behind him to see several people gathered on a balcony and there was a strange instrument that looked something like Vorondur’s piano but it had pipes. Someone was sitting before it speaking to those gathered about. One Woman was nodding and then the music was starting again and after a few notes, the Woman began singing in a language Finrod could not understand:

“Panis angelicus, fit panis hominen, dat panis coelicus, figuris terminum….”

Finrod stood there, spellbound by the sheer beauty of the music, and it was beautiful. The Woman’s voice soared with the music and filled the sanctuary. Then she was joined by the others and it was almost overwhelming. A hand on his shoulder startled him and he turned to see Charles standing there, smiling at him. The old priest leaned forward to speak directly in his ear.

“If you want to talk, we will have to go to the rectory.”

And suddenly, Finrod realized that he did indeed wish to speak with the old priest and nodded. Charles gestured and Finrod followed the priest out of the sanctuary and out of the church, making their way to the rectory. They settled in the kitchen as they had before and without asking Charles began putting together some tea for them while Finrod sat before the wood stove. Nimrod was there, curled up before the stove, and the cat graciously acknowledged the Elf’s right to invade his domain by lifting his head and giving the ellon a large yawn followed by a few licks of his paw before settling back into sleep.

“Here you go,” Charles said as he handed Finrod a mug of peppermint tea before settling into the chair next to him.

“Thank you,” Finrod said, taking an appreciative sip of the tea, reveling in its minty taste. “What were they singing?” he asked. “I did not understand the words.”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s a hymn called ‘Panis angelicus’, that’s Latin for ‘bread of angels’. The resurrection choir was practicing for a funeral that is scheduled for Friday.”

“Funeral?”

“Yes, and unfortunately, it’s a double funeral. Two of my parishioners died in a car accident. Their teenage son survived. Poor boy’s still in the hospital, though, and he will not be able to attend his parents’ funeral.”

“I am sorry,” Finrod said, feeling even more depressed. In spite of having died himself, death was still a mystery to him, at least the death of Mortals. He recalled when he had watched Bëor slip away and it had thoroughly frightened him.

“You want to talk about it?” Charles asked sympathetically.

For a long moment, Finrod did not respond, sitting there drinking his tea and watching Nimrod sleeping, the cat’s ears twitching. Finally, he sighed. “So much seems to be going wrong lately. Glorfindel came out of healing sleep days before he should have and now he is making life miserable for us all, insisting he needs to go to Fairbanks where the sons of Elrond and Vorondur’s daughter have gone.”

“I heard about that,” Charles said with a nod. “I understand Kyle Stoner threatened to have Loren put into restraints if he didn’t behave himself.”

“And that was a mistake,” Finrod said with a grimace. “Of course, I do not blame Kyle, he was not to know that Glorfindel has an unfortunate history of being restrained by healers. He became so upset by the mere mention of it that they had to call me in to calm him down because they dared not use any drugs, not knowing how they might affect one of us. He still refuses to speak to Kyle and Geoffrey Harris has had to assign another doctor to his case. I told Glorfindel that he was acting like an elfling of two and to grow up.”

Charles chuckled. “Most people tend to regress emotionally when they’ve been traumatized. Once he’s more healed, I think we’ll get the old Loren back. So he wants to go after the Twins, does he? Why does he think he is the one to do so? Frankly, I don’t see why any of you should feel the need to go and drag them back here. They are well beyond the legal age. There is no law on this planet that says they cannot choose to live elsewhere if they so desire.”

“Perhaps, but you are speaking of Mortal customs, not elvish ones and their leaving as they did was not done well, especially taking Serindë with them.”

The old priest harrumphed with disgust. “I am sure the lady’s virtue is intact, my lord. I don’t know either of the Twins well, but I know that they would slit their own throats first before they ever did anything dishonorable, especially toward the lovely Serindë.”

Finrod raised an eyebrow at the Man’s tone, but rather than responding, he changed the subject entirely. “Josiah Makepeace tells me that you are in exile.”

Waverly’s eyes widened. “Did he now? Man needs to know when to keep his fool mouth shut.”

“But are you?”

“And why does this concern you?”

“It does not, but having known exile myself….”

“An exile you freely chose, if I am not mistaken.”

Finrod blushed for some reason, nodding, taking a sip of his tea. “I am sorry. You are right. I have no—”

“I ran afoul of certain people in the church hierarchy,” the priest said suddenly, not looking at Finrod. “I will not attempt to explain it to you, since you simply wouldn’t understand. Let us just say that it was politically motivated, or, no, it wasn’t even that. It was motivated by fear, fear for their own security. They were unable or unwilling to look beyond themselves to other possibilities.” He looked up and gave the Elf a shrug. “I was a convenient scapegoat, so I was sent here as punishment, denied the right to teach.”

“You were a teacher?”

“Yes, at a Catholic college back East. I taught what is called Christology and I’m not about to try to explain that to you, but I held certain views about the nature of Christ’s teachings and mission here on earth that, while popular with the laity, did not find favor with the hierarchy. I made enemies among my colleagues.” He looked sad, obviously remembering those days. “They pretended to be my friends, but they betrayed me to the church hierarchy. The upshot was I was sent here and here I will remain until called home by God. I’m sure most of them have forgotten about me after all this time, which is just as well.” He gave Finrod a thin smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Could you have left the priesthood?”

“Oh sure, and others in my position did just that, but ultimately, I am not answerable to the church hierarchy, but to our Creator, for it was He who called me to my vocation and He has not released me from it.”

“And so you minister to the people of Wiseman, living out your days in solitude, waiting to die.” Finrod made it less a question and more a statement and even he was surprised at the bitterness he heard in his tone.

Charles gave him a searching look and then the smile he gave him became more genuine. “It is not a bad life. I will admit that when I first came here, I thought God had abandoned me, but over the years, and very recently, I’ve seen just how devious He is.”

Finrod gave him a surprised look. “How do you mean?”

“Well, just think, Your Highness. Until I came to Wiseman, and that was some thirty years ago, there wasn’t even a permanent priest in residence. The priest from Chandalar would visit the various communities in this region over the course of a month and offer the sacraments. If I had not been sent here, you would’ve had to deal with Gerald O’Hara, and, quite frankly, he makes Tom Peterson look like a bloody liberal. You would have gotten no joy from him. But you have me instead and I am grateful to the good Lord for letting me live long enough to meet with Elves. If I had left the priesthood, and many of my friends counseled just that, I would not have come here to Wiseman and we would never have met.”

“I see,” Finrod said.

“Probably less than you think,” the priest shot back, though there was no rancor in his voice. “Now, you didn’t come here to listen to an old man speak of the follies of his youth. What is really troubling you, my friend? I get the sense that you are still feeling depressed, or rather, you are experiencing a new depression.”

Finrod sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I feel as if I am being pulled in five directions at once and I have no idea how to bring everything under control again. Glorfindel is insisting on leaving the hospital and going to Fairbanks. He says it is important and sending an email ordering the Twins home will not work. The only way to bring them back is to go after them and he is the only one, apparently, to whom they will listen.”

“Is Loren well enough to leave the hospital?”

“Not according to the doctors, but Glorfindel is insisting that he has healed well enough that he can leave and reluctantly I must agree. He is healing more quickly than a Mortal under the circumstances.” He gave the priest a brittle smile. “I guess I am enjoying the peace and quiet without him.”

Charles chuckled. “I know what you mean. Well, I’m not about to advise you either way, but I think you should at least allow him to leave the hospital and come home. In my experience, people recover more quickly surrounded by the familiar. If he’s home being coddled by one and all, he’s unlikely to cause too much trouble.”

“I almost have to agree with you,” Finrod said. “He’s a terrible patient.”

Waverly laughed. “Aren’t we all? Now, as to your own problem, my advice, for what it’s worth, is this: don’t think you are the only one who needs to hold everything together. You have thirty-odd people living in Edhellond who are all quite capable of helping you if you just allow them to, and that’s especially true of those who’ve lived among us Mortals. You should be relying more on Darren and Ron and even Amroth to handle things while Loren is laid up.”

“You are right, of course,” Finrod acknowledged. “I guess I am too used to having everyone defer to me instead of taking up the reins of responsibility for themselves.” He drained his mug and rose. “I should be going. I am supposed to stand watch over Glorfindel tonight and I am late for dinner.”

“Have they found out who was responsible?” Charles asked as he stood and saw Finrod to the door.

“Not that I have heard, but I am sure we will eventually. Thank you for the tea and the advice.” He held out his hand and the priest shook it.

“Anytime, my friend. You know where to find me. God go with you.”

Finrod nodded and stepped outside to continue on his way to Edhellond.

****

Darren offered to drive him to the hospital after dinner. “I have to teach tonight,” he told him, “and I’ll be going right by St. Luke’s.”

Finrod reached the hospital in time to meet Alex, Derek and Zach, who were just leaving. They met in the lobby where Finrod was picking up a visitor’s pass. They had been visiting with Glorfindel who had been moved out of intensive care and into a private room only that morning.

“Dude’s ready to scream,” Derek said with a grin as he and the other two greeted Finrod and apprised him of their visit. “Not that I blame him. Being stuck in a hospital is not my idea of a good time.”

“It’s no one’s idea,” Alex retorted with a grin. “I told Loren that the next time I come I’ll bring him a jigsaw puzzle or something for him to play with. That should keep him occupied and feeling less bored.”

“Have you heard from Dan and Roy?” Zach asked. “We heard they skipped town and took the fair Sarah with them… the lucky dogs.” Alex and Derek chuckled.

Finrod raised an eyebrow at the young Man’s teasing tone. “I have not heard anything from them directly, but we have heard from them. They are in Fairbanks according to Vorondur.”

“Yeah, Loren kept going on about that, insisting he needed to go after them,” Alex said. “Derek here even volunteered to sneak him out and help him on his way.”

“While you spent fifteen minutes explaining every obstacle there is to sneaking out of a hospital,” Derek countered, “which is rich, considering you did it without anyone knowing.”

“That’s because I’m a trained agent and I was alone,” Alex retorted with a sniff. “You and Zach were ready to sneak him out by pretending to take him for a walk around the ward. You wouldn’t have made it to the elevators.”

“Whereas I could help Glorfindel walk out of here without any Mortal being the wiser,” Finrod interjected with a grin, his depression lifting at the banter.

The three Men looked at him with varying degrees of disbelief. “Yeah? How so?” Derek asked.

“I’d love to see you try,” Alex said almost at the same time, a huge smile on his face.

“Me, too,” Zach chimed in, not to be left out. “Can we come watch?”

Finrod laughed. “And what makes you think I would do anything of the sort? I only said I could do it, if I wished, and I do not wish. If Glorfindel truly felt the need to leave here, he could do it under his own power. He would not need me to help him.”

“It would still be fun to watch, though,” Alex said. “But listen, I have to go down to Fairbanks before the weekend to meet with my adviser. Maybe I can track down Dan and Roy for you and at least make sure they and Sarah are doing well. I might even be able to convince them to come home.”

“Your offer is generous, Alex, and I thank you for it,” Finrod said, giving him a slight bow, which surprised the Mortals. “Now, I had better go up and see Glorfindel before he causes any trouble. He really should not be left alone for any length of time."

“He’s bored,” Derek said, “and I don’t blame him. I know I would be.”

“And a bored Reborn is a dangerous Reborn,” Finrod said with a glint of mischief in his eyes. Now the three young Men all raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Derek said.

Zach took a quick glance at his wristwatch. “Hey, movie starts in twenty minutes. We’d better get going.”

The three Mortals bid Finrod a good night and headed outside while Finrod made his way to the elevators thinking about the conversation he’d had with Charles. Once on the ward, he went in search of Glorfindel’s room, finding it with the help of one of the nurses. He nodded at the police officer who was guarding the door as he entered and found his gwador lying in bed, looking almost as depressed as he felt. When he saw Finrod, though, Glorfindel’s expression lightened and he sat up.

“Come to baby sit?” he asked, and there was just a hint of anger in his tone.

“Only if you insist that I sit on a helpless baby,” Finrod said, deliberately misunderstanding Glorfindel’s words. “Would that be you by any chance?”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “It might. Depends.”

“On what?”

The ellon shrugged, looking indifferent. “On how much longer you all are going to keep me here.”

“Pui-en-orch!” Finrod spat in Sindarin, sounding exasperated and disgusted at the same time. Glorfindel looked at him in surprise. “I know full well that you could walk out of here at any time without one of those Mortals out there seeing you do it. So desist with your act. No one has restrained you.”

Glorfindel’s mien darkened dangerously. “And they had better not try,” he said coldly.

“That’s better,” Finrod said with a satisfied nod as he sat in a chair and handed Glorfindel a paperback book that he had brought with him. “I found this while straightening the shelves and thought of you.”

Glorfindel took the book and glanced at the cover. “Murder on Ward Three: A Katie Sharpley Mystery. Hmph.” He gave Finrod a skeptical look as he turned the book over and began reading the summary out loud. “‘Dr. Mason Thackery was the hospital’s finest surgeon. He was also very much dead with a scalpel stuck in his heart. Retired detective Katie Sharpley, recovering from heart surgery, decides to find out who had it in for the good doctor and learns what an unsavory person the man really was and the list of suspects begins to grow. Then, there is another death on the ward. Someone is stalking the hospital and if she’s not careful, Katie Sharpley might be the killer’s next victim.’” He looked up at Finrod. “Thanks, I think. There are a couple of sadistic nurses I’d like to do in while I’m here. This might give me some ideas.”

Finrod grinned, knowing his gwador did not mean it. “I met Alex, Derek and Zach,” he said. “They tell me they offered to help you sneak out of here.”

“They’re good boys,” Glorfindel said facetiously, adopting a doting look and sounding like someone’s aunty. “So eager to please.”

Finrod laughed. “Seriously, though, when do you intend to stop playacting and just leave?”

Glorfindel gave him a suspicious look. “What do you mean? You exacted a promise from me not to attempt to leave until the doctors allowed it. Now you’re practically giving me permission to break my oath to you. What are you up to, Finrod?”

“I am not up to anything,” Finrod replied with equanimity. “I am, however, reconsidering things.” He sighed, shaking his head. “With you here and the Twins gone, Edhellond is just not the same, and to tell you the truth, I am having difficulty keeping everything together.”

“Oh? Why is that? Who’s giving you trouble?”

“Who isn’t?” Finrod threw up his hands with exasperation. “Helyanwë refuses to leave her room, my son and niece and the two other youngsters have not stopped playing something called Monopoly since the night you were attacked and when I mentioned that they must begin readying themselves to move to the college they just shrugged and said they were seriously thinking of… of dropping out, I believe is the expression.”

Glorfindel scowled. “They can’t do that, not after all the strings I pulled to get them accepted without them having to go through the process of getting a GED first or taking the SATs. What about everyone else?”

“Oh, those from Valinor are fine, though the healers are all miffed because they’ve been barred from the hospital for the time being. Kyle and Geoffrey have given them reading assignments having to do with hospital procedures and medical ethics and they will be tested on those before they are permitted to resume their training. The Wiseman people are studiously polite and will not blatantly disobey me but they all double-check with Daeron first before complying with any orders I might give.”

“And that is your problem right there,” Glorfindel said.

“What do you mean?”

“In the last two years since we came here, I have never given an order to anyone.”

“Impossible!” Finrod exclaimed. “You are their leader. Of course you gave them orders.”

“No. I gave them options.”

Now Finrod was thoroughly confused and it must have shown on his face because Glorfindel smiled sympathetically. “Do you order your wife around, Finrod?” he asked him.

“Valar! The very idea! She would skin me alive and hang me out to dry if I even tried.”

“Exactly. Why? Because you see your relationship with Amarië as a partnership in which you both contribute. Well, it’s the same with us Wiseman Elves. We’re all partners in the enterprise called Elf Academy, and yes, as the Administrator, I make the final decisions, but I don’t order anyone around. I offer them viable options. Oh yes, I make plain which option I prefer, but I give them all the chance to choose differently and sometimes their choosing the opposite of what I would want for them works out for the better. Why? Because I am not Eru and I don’t know everything. Also, we discuss everything and come to a consensus to which all can agree. I doubt you’ve asked for anyone’s opinion about anything. You’ve simply told them what you wanted from them.”

“Yes, I suppose I have.”

“And with those who came with you from Valinor, that would work, because they are used to that kind of vertical top-down social structuring, but here in Wiseman, we have a horizontal structure where all make the decisions together. If nothing else, you need to be seen consulting with Daeron before giving any orders.”

“I would think that decision-making by committee would take too long in a crisis, though,” Finrod pointed out.

“And, of course, you’re correct, but you are not in a crisis, not any longer. That situation has resolved itself.” He fell silent at that point, idly flipping pages of the paperback while Finrod sat there thinking things over. He closed his eyes, feeling tired all of a sudden.

“I fear I’ve made a mess of things.”

“No, Finrod, you haven’t,” Glorfindel assured him. “Now, let’s change the subject. As soon as I’m released from here I want to make plans to leave for Fairbanks. I need to get those two hellions back here and I’m sure Ron and Holly would like Sarah back as well.”

“You keep insisting that you and you alone can convince the sons of Elrond to return and it is no good for any of the rest of us to go in your stead. Fair enough, but, whatever you say to the contrary, you are in no position physically to drive to Fairbanks. I am willing to arrange for others to do the driving for you. You just have to let me know when you wish to leave.”

“Who would come with me?” Glorfindel asked.

“Vorondur for obvious reasons,” Finrod replied and Glorfindel nodded in agreement. “I think I might join you and perhaps Daeron.”

“Why Daeron? Not that I object, mind you. We go way back and he and I have had our share of adventures tracking down the Twins whenever they’ve disappeared off the radar.”

“Which is why I would like him to come. He is very wise and next to you he has had the most experience in dealing with Elrond’s sons. I would like Laurendil to come as well in his capacity as a healer.”

“Not Vardamir?” Glorfindel enquired. “He outranks them all.”

“No. Vardamir will remain here. If there is trouble, Laurendil can be an extra sword.”

“And do you expect trouble?”

Finrod snorted. “With you, Brother, that is almost a given.”

To that, Glorfindel had no retort knowing there was some truth to the statement. Silence fell between them, a silence that was not uncomfortable, a silence as between friends or brothers. Finally, he looked up. “Give me another day to rest and I will be ready to go.”

Finrod nodded. “I will tell the others. Now, why don’t you read the book I brought out loud? I am curious to know who killed the good doctor myself.”

Glorfindel grinned and opened the book to the first page. “‘Chapter One. Retired detective Katie Sharpley was bored lying in bed as she recovered from open-heart surgery….’”. He snorted. “Well, I can certainly sympathize.” Finrod grinned and Glorfindel continued reading. “‘God, she exclaimed aloud, addressing the ceiling, give me a good murder or at least a good book to keep me from going ga-ga….’”

****

Notes:

1. Panis Angelicus by Cesar Frank: If you are unfamiliar with this beautiful hymn you can listen to renditions of it on YouTube. The one sung by Renee Fleming is especially lovely.

2. The book, Murder on Ward Three: A Katie Sharpley Mystery is fictional and does not exist outside the author’s imagination.