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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

77: Gareth Receives an Education

The next day was torture for Gareth. He kept his promise not to go to the campus and look Nell up but it was hard. And the hours of the day dragged slowly, or so it seemed, before she showed up for dinner. Only then did Gareth feel alive.

“At least you have your classes to distract you,” he told her when he complained to her about it. “Right now, I’m just hanging about waiting to leave and wishing I didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Nielluin commiserated, giving him a chaste hug since they had an audience consisting of Melyanna and Daeron as the four were in the kitchen putting dinner together.

“It’s really so unfair and so… so medieval,” Gareth couldn’t help exclaiming, sounding petulant even to himself.

Daeron laughed. “Perhaps, but I think Loren and Finrod are right to insist on the betrothal period, more for their sake than yours.”

“How do you mean?” Gareth asked, looking confused and Nielluin also appeared puzzled by the loremaster’s words.

“You may have noticed that neither Anna and I nor Loren and Helena have plighted our troths nor have we married in the Sindarin fashion.”

Gareth shrugged. “Not my business.”

“Perhaps, but the point I’m making is that, while we are certainly able to do either, we have not for a variety of reasons. In our case,” here he gestured to Melyanna, “we simply decided that it was not the right time. Unlike you two, there was no instant bonding, though there was mutual attraction. We’re taking it slow, for, after all, what does it matter when we wed? Today or a hundred years from now, it will all be the same for us.”

“What about Loren and Helena?” Gareth asked. “What’s their reason for not tying the knot?”

“Ah, well, in their case, it has been a matter of some earlier misunderstandings and they are both feeling their way back to one another,” Daeron replied, “but even so, I doubt they will do any knot tying for some time to come. Now, as far as Finrod is concerned, well, let’s just say he needs a little more time to get used to the idea.” He flashed them a brilliant smile.

“Yeah, whatever,” Gareth muttered.

Daeron gave him a searching look. “You are angry.”

Gareth just shrugged as he set about tossing the salad he’d been putting together.

“Gareth, stop playing with the salad and look at me,” Daeron commanded, and Gareth recognized the tone, it being similar to that used by his own parents, and complied somewhat reluctantly. He noticed Melyanna giving him a sympathetic look, but Nielluin’s expression was unreadable.

Daeron sighed and went over to the younger ellyn and put his hands on Gareth’s shoulders. “You are angry at Finrod for referring to you as a commoner.”

“And as mortal born,” Gareth added with a scowl.

“Yes, an interesting phrase, but very apt,” Daeron said, releasing Gareth.

“All that talk about there being too few Elves around to bother with titles and such was just that, talk,” he protested. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Daeron insisted. “I think that was just shock and worry speaking.” Gareth shook his head, unconvinced. Daeron gave him a sympathetic smile. “Gareth, you have to understand something,” he said as he returned to the stove to check on the asparagus. “Finrod takes his duties seriously and he promised Galadriel and Celeborn that he would look after their daughter. He is more concerned about how they will react to the news and, knowing Galadriel as I do, she’s likely to blame him for dereliction of duty, as if he could have somehow prevented what happened. I think once he gets over the shock he will see that he has been unfair to you and will apologize.”

“Yes, I will.”

They all turned to see Finrod standing at the doorway, having just returned from work. Gareth refused to look at him.

“Gareth, stop glowering at the floor,” Finrod said, sounding more amused than angry. When Gareth looked up, he nodded. “Much better. Nielluin, come to me, child.” He held out his right arm and the elleth went to him. Finrod embraced her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I regret my earlier reaction and I apologize for anything I may have said that was less than kind, or truthful. You have nothing to be ashamed of Gareth. I wish we knew more of your heritage, though. Perhaps if your parents ever deign to travel here we can ask.”

“They never speak of the past,” Gareth said softly.

“They never speak of it to you,” Finrod corrected, “but that does not mean they will not speak of it and I can be very persuasive when I put my mind to it. In the meantime, as Glorfindel said, if you two are truly meant to be together, then you will be, and what does it matter if you must wait a year or many years? Time, after all, is on our side.”

“Except we don’t know when this Dagor Dagorath will commence,” Gareth pointed out. “What if it happens next week?”

“Highly unlikely, but what if it does?” Finrod countered. “Will it truly change anything between you? Even without physically consummating your union, the bond between you is growing. I can sense it, indeed we all can.”

Both Daeron and Melyanna nodded. “The betrothal contract is a mere formality for the sake of propriety,” Daeron reminded them. “And Loren is correct when he says that Nell’s studies come first and you, Gareth, need time as well.”

“Time for what?”

“Time to learn what it means to marry into royalty,” the loremaster replied. “Remember Kate and William’s wedding last year?” Gareth nodded. “Well, they became engaged in October, the official engagement was announced in November and then she spent the next six months, not only preparing for the wedding, but being trained in what it means to be royal and all the obligations that would be hers upon marriage. You need to do the same.” He turned to Finrod. “And they’re a good example to offer any who may complain. William is in line to the throne of Great Britain after his father and grandmother and Kate’s family is essentially working class stock. So there is precedence of royalty marrying a commoner.”

“But that’s Mortals, not Elves,” Finrod pointed out and Daeron just shrugged.

“I’m never going to meet Nell’s parents or anything,” Gareth interjected. “What do I need to learn? Nell needs to learn what it means to be ‘mortal born’ if she wants to survive in this world.” He shot a dark look at Finrod who raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise did not respond.

“And she’s doing just that,” Daeron pointed out in a reasonable tone, “attending college and such. You, on the other hand, need to learn about the family you are marrying into. Someday, you may well meet them and when you do it would be good for you to know exactly how to act.”

Gareth gave a derisive snort. “I’m sure I know my manners. Don’t forget, I grew up in a hierarchical society even if it was a mortal one. I have dealt with kings and queens and even a princess or two.” He flashed Nielluin a bright smile which she returned.

“All Mortals,” Daeron pointed out. “Elven etiquette when dealing with royalty is a bit different, but we’ll discuss it later. Right now, it’s time for dinner. You want to call everyone, Finrod?”

Finrod nodded. “I was on my way to freshen up anyway.”

He started to leave but Gareth intercepted him, giving him a glare. “Just to be clear: my life is in Fairbanks. I have no intention of moving here. When Nell and I are finally married she will come with me, not the other way around.”

“A discussion for later,” Finrod said somewhat dismissively. “At the moment, we need to concentrate on other, more important, matters.”

“Such as?” Gareth enquired, giving him a suspicious look.

Finrod gave him an impish smile. “Such as whether we should go ice skating after dinner or not. What do you think, my dear?” This last was directed at Nielluin.

“Oh, ice skating!” Nielluin exclaimed, clapping her hands with delight.

Finrod laughed. “Ice skating it is, then.” He kissed her again and then excused himself and left.

“Do you ice skate?” Nielluin asked Gareth shyly, wrapping an arm around his.

He gave her a disbelieving look. “Is the pope Catholic?” he asked rhetorically.

“What’s a pope?” Nielluin asked, looking confused.

“What’s a Catholic?” Melyanna asked almost at the same time.

Daeron rolled his eyes and chuckled while Gareth just shrugged. When both ellith persisted in questioning them, Daeron finally relented and gave them a brief explanation. By the time he finished, others were joining them and soon they were all gathered around the dining room table enjoying the dinner.

Afterwards, several Elves, including Glorfindel, Helyanwë, Daeron and Melyanna, joined Finrod, Gareth and Nielluin as they headed for the ice rink and Gareth spent a pleasant two hours skating hand-in-hand with his beloved.

****

After seeing Nielluin to her dormitory door, with Finrod’s permission, Gareth returned to Edhellond and had no sooner removed his coat when Valandur accosted him. “Finrod asked me to begin your education on Elven royalty.”

“Now? It’s ten-thirty and the wedding is at least a year away. What’s the rush?”

“No rush. But you’re not doing anything at the moment are you?”

“Well, I was going to Skype Gwyn. We usually talk around this time.”

“Does he know about you and Nielluin?”

“Er… not exactly.”

Valandur gave him a shrewd look. “In other words, he does not know.”

Gareth found he couldn’t quite look the older Elf in the eye. “Something like that,” he muttered, feeling very young all of a sudden, something that was happening all too often of late being around these ancient beings.

“And your parents?” Valandur asked.

“They’re in Malta at the moment attending some sort of physics convention, or at least Da is. Mam’s probably spending her days shopping and sitting in outside taverns drinking ouzo and reading trashy romance novels. They won’t be home until the weekend.”

“Ah, well, I think they and your brother should be told as soon as possible. Something like this should not be kept from them.”

“Yeah, I guess. Not sure how to explain it, though. Hi, Gwyn, guess what? Got engaged to an elven princess between the meat and the dessert dish. What’s new with you?”

Valandur smiled. “Tell them the truth. That usually is the best course. Now, why don’t we step into the library and I will give you your first lesson on Amanian politics and how it might, and I stress that, might affect what happens here in Wiseman.”

Gareth sighed. “Okay, but really, now?”

“No time like the present, as I believe the saying goes. Is there a set time when you and Gwyn speak to one another?”

“Not really, but usually around this time. Look, let me go up and see if he’s online and let him know that something’s come up and that I’ll talk with him later.”

“That might be a good idea. I’ll wait for you in the library.”

With that, the older Elf sauntered off down the hall and Gareth practically ran up the stairs to his room where he opened his laptop and then checked to see if Gwyn was online. He wasn’t, but checking his email inbox, he saw an email from his brother that had been sent two hours earlier.

Can’t talk tonight, little brother, the email read. Got invited to a party. Same time tomorrow? If not, let me know. Love ya.

Gareth took a moment to respond, assuring Gwyn that tomorrow night would be fine, glad of another day’s reprieve. Then he shut down the laptop and made his way back downstairs to the library.

“Gwyn’s at a party so we won’t be Skyping tonight,” he explained to Valandur.

“Then let’s get started,” the loremaster said. He pulled a poster board from behind the reading table and set it up on a table easel.

“You did all this while we were skating?” Gareth asked in surprise.

Valandur shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”

Gareth examined the board more closely. Names were neatly written on it in Roman script rather than in Tengwar, for Gareth had admitted early in his visit that he did not read Sindarin.

“There were no books written in it,” he’d explained apologetically when the matter was brought up. “We spoke it within the family but there was little point in learning to write it.”

“We’ll have to rectify that,” Daeron had said, but so far there had been no such lessons offered. Gareth decided he didn’t really care.

Staring at the poster board, seeing all the names neatly written, he sighed. Valandur gave him a knowing smile. “We’ll start at the top,” he said, pointing to a single name written at the very top of the board. “Ingwë Ingaran is the High King over us all. He is also Vanyaran, meaning he is the king of the Vanyar as well. There are, in fact, three high kings, one for each of the clans. Finrod’s father, Arafinwë, is presently the Noldóran, while Olwë is the Lindaran.”

“Who?”

“Ah, Olwë’s correct title is Lindaran, king of the Lindar, whom you know as the Teleri. Now, each high king has dominion over their respective cities and people, but Ingwë also represents all the elven kingdoms before the thrones of the Valar. He is our spokesman and he must answer to the Valar for us. Arafinwë and Olwë do so as well but to a lesser extent. While each high king has sovereign rights over their own people, it is not uncommon for all three high kings to come together to discuss policy that will affect all the elven realms. They generally do this at the All-Aman Council, which has representatives from all the elven dominions as well as the Valar.”

He paused to give Gareth a moment to digest what he had said before continuing. “Ingwë’s heir is Ingwion. Originally, Ingwë declared both his sons, twins by the way, as his heirs, but when Ingalaurë died during the time of the Darkening, Ingwion became the sole heir. Later, after being reborn, Ingalaurë renounced any claim to the heirship and, in fact, now happily rules his own principality in the southern reaches of Valinor. Ingwion is married to Olwen, daughter of Olwë, and, of course, he’s Finrod’s cousin through Indis, so all three royal clans are connected by blood and marriage, which means that when you and Nielluin wed, all these people will become your family as well.”

Gareth stared at the poster board as Valandur gestured to it. There were a lot of names on it, most of whom he did not recognize. He felt almost overwhelmed. Valandur must have sensed this, because he gave him a sympathetic smile. “You need not worry. I doubt you will ever have an occasion to meet them all. Let’s concentrate on just the immediate family and their connections to one another, all right?”

Gareth nodded. “So, where does Nell fit in in all this?” He squinted, bending over to get a closer look at the board, trying to find his beloved’s name in the midst of all the others.

“Here she is,” Valandur helpfully pointed to the board. “And here is Finrod. He and his sister, Galadriel, are related to Ingwë through their grandmother, Indis, and to Olwë through their mother, Eärwen, which means that Nielluin, like Finrod, has the blood of all three clans and is related very closely to all three High Kings. And then, if you add Celeborn into the mix, she’s kin to Elu Thingol, former king of Doriath, as well.”

“Whew!” Gareth exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in a distracted manner.

Valandur gave him a sympathetic look. “Still want to marry her?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Valandur shrugged. “We all have choices. Nothing in Elvish law says you have to marry Nielluin or anyone else, for that matter, but certainly, I doubt you would ever consider marrying anyone else now that you and Nielluin have started to bond. It’s not a complete bond, since you have yet to consummate your union, but it’s there for anyone with eyes to see.”

Gareth sighed. “I’ve ‘dated’ other girls, Mortals, of course. One time I seriously considered marrying one, back about two hundred years or so ago. Marie Josette Benoit was her name. Daughter of a French military officer stationed in New Orleans when the French owned the city. She was very beautiful and gifted and I thought I was in love.”

“And were you?”

Gareth shrugged. “At the time I believed it. Later, I realized it was just infatuation. I was all set to ask for her hand in marriage in spite of the fact that Gwyn kept trying to dissuade me.” He gave Valandur a sour grin. “Fate had other plans for us, though. There was a sickness that ran through the city, a plague of some kind. Marie died in my arms.”

“I am sorry,” Valandur said with great sympathy.

“It was for the best,” Gareth said woodenly. “She was just one more Mortal in a long line of them that I have had to bury over the centuries. After a while you just grow numb and try not to think of them rotting away into dust. She was so very beautiful.” He sighed, his expression troubled. Valandur wisely remained silent, allowing him the space he needed to grieve again. Finally he shrugged, giving the older Elf a small smile. “Gwyn and I left soon after, continuing our way westward. We traveled through Texas to what is now Arizona and lived among the Hopi for about twenty years until we felt the urge to head further west. I needed the time to get over Marie. A desert is a good place for that.”

Valandur reached over and gave the younger ellon a hug. “But now you have Nielluin,” he said quietly.

Gareth nodded, staring at nothing in particular. “Yes, now I have Nell.” But his voice lacked any enthusiasm.

Valandur released him, giving him a smile. “Lessons are over with for now. We’ll continue this later.”

“I see your name is on the poster.” Gareth pointed.

“I married Arafinwë’s sister, Findis. Our children however have had little to do with any of the royal courts. Findis and I purposely made sure of that, but even so they cannot ignore their royal connections completely so they were given what is considered a proper education for noble-born children in Amanian society.”

“Are you a noble? I mean your family.”

“Oh no!” Valandur chuckled. “Father is a bard and Mother is a weaver. You should have seen the fur flying when Findis and I declared our love for one another. You think you have to wait a long time to marry Nielluin? Findis and I were forced to wait twelve Valinórean years, almost a hundred and fifteen years of the sun.”

Gareth stared at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Oh, because Findis, not having seen two yéni when I first met her, was thought to be too young to marry. Also, certain people needed time, and lots of it, to get used to the idea.” He gave Gareth a self-deprecating grin. “So you see, your situation isn’t quite as bad as it looks, is it?”

“Not put in those terms,” Gareth allowed. “Thanks for the genealogy lesson.”

“We need also to start teaching you your Tengwar and introduce you to Quenya,” Valandur said, “and that goes for Gwyn and your parents.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning to read and write Sindarin, but why Quenya?” Gareth asked.

“Because even the Mortals of Wiseman speak and read both languages or are in the process of doing so. You don’t want to be considered ignorant even by Mortal standards do you?” He flashed him a knowing grin and Gareth chuckled.

“Do you have a primer I can start looking at?”

“I’ll make one up and give it to you before you leave. I will have Daeron give me a hand in devising suitable lessons for you.”

“Thanks… for everything.”

“My pleasure. Here, take this with you and study it. I will test you on it before you leave for Fairbanks.” Valandur handed Gareth the poster board and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Someday soon, we will have to put your name on here.”

Gareth gave him a convincing shudder. “In only two days I’ve gone from having only my parents and a brother as my family to having what I suspect is half of Valinor as my family.”

“More like a third,” Valandur said with a straight face. “Don’t worry, though. You’ll only have to invite half of them to the wedding.”

Gareth gave him a searching look. “Do you think any of them could come? I wondered about Roy and Sarah’s wedding. His parents or grandparents won’t be there for him. That has to hurt.”

“Yes, it is unfortunate,” Valandur allowed. “But think of it in mortal terms. If Roy’s parents and grandparents had died in the mortal way, they would still not be here for the wedding, but he does have Finrod and Findalaurë and Nielluin. And do not forget that Serindë’s brothers and Vorondur’s and Ercassë’s families will also not be here for the wedding. Yet, I do not doubt that they will be here in spirit and perhaps the Valar will even have a means by which they can all see what is happening here. Now, I will bid you a good night. I spent the last week watching over Alex and need some real sleep.”

“Good night, Val, and thank you, truly. This is happening so fast and I really don’t know why. I gather from what people have said that this instant bonding is a rare phenomenon among our people these days, so why us?”

“It is true that you don’t see it happening that often. I can only think of one other time in the last several millennia where it did. I have no answers for you, Gareth. Eru moves as He wills and not as we would want Him to. Why He arranged for this to happen to you and Nielluin may remain one of life’s little mysteries, but perhaps it is His way of telling us that He is still sovereign in our lives and He cares for us. Too many of our people have lost estel over the ages, refusing to bring forth children, refusing even to marry. There are more single Elves in Aman among the younger generations than among the older ones and that is not due to a lack of suitable mates. The ellyn do not outnumber the ellith or vice versa. You and Nielluin, Amroth and Nimrodel. Elrohir and Serindë. There is a pattern here and I suspect that it is Eru’s way of showing our people that there is hope, that even in the midst of darkness there is estel. You and the others may well lead the way for our people to save themselves from their own despair.”

Gareth nodded as he contemplated the loremaster’s words. “I hope they don’t mind having a mortal born Elf in their midst,” and even to his own ears he sounded bitter.

“Do not hate Finrod too much, child,” Valandur said soberly. “Mortal born is as good a description as any. Serindë, too is mortal born, if you want to look at it that way. It only stands to reason given that in both cases, you and she knew no other Elves other than parents and siblings. You adopted mortal ways and viewpoints out of necessity, to survive. The other Wiseman Elves did not need to do so to the extent you and Gwyn must have, for they all grew up within Elvish societies of one sort or another. You and Gwyn did not have that and that is not your fault. Also, I think you bring a refreshing perspective to the table, one that even the Wiseman Elves cannot do. I actually hope that there are other mortal born Elves out there.”

“Why?” Gareth asked in surprise.

“Because they could well give us the hope we have lost,” Valandur replied, “just as you and Gwyn have, though you perhaps do not see it yet. Now, I will bid you good night.” He gave the younger ellon a courteous bow and exited the library, leaving Gareth much to contemplate.





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