87: A Meeting in the Woods

The next day, Prince Legolas arrived at the station in time to see Orlando Lopez before the Man left for the day. Lopez was winding his way through the squad room, speaking to people as he was leaving. When he saw Legolas, he smiled and held out his hand.

“So now you get the dubious pleasure of having to listen to a lecture on police procedure by Lieutenant Conrad who is most likely going to bore your pants off.”

Legolas lifted an eyebrow. In a loud enough voice for most of those in the squad room to hear and deliberately misunderstanding the idiom, he said, “My pants are firmly belted on. He would have much difficulty getting them off.”

Lopez was not the only one to goggle at him and then one of the women officers sniggered and said, “Unless he knocks you unconscious first,” and soon they were all laughing.

“Good one, Prince,” Lopez said once he’d calmed down, clapping him on the shoulder in a familiar manner. “See you later.” And then he was on his way out, shaking his head for some reason.

Others were still chuckling, giving Legolas knowing grins as he stood there, not quite sure what to do next or where to go. He was saved the trouble of asking when the desk sergeant motioned to him. When he came nearer, the Man pointed to a door on the other side of the room. “Through that door, down the hall, third door on your left. The lieutenant is waiting for you there.”

“Thank you,” Legolas said and following the Man’s directions soon found himself in a small room with a whiteboard and some desks. It apparently was some kind of classroom. Lieutenant Conrad was there writing something on the board. He looked over at Legolas as he came inside.

“Take a seat, Prince, and we’ll get started. Hmm… You didn’t think to bring a notebook or pen, did you?”

Legolas shook his head, feeling chagrined. “I am sorry. No one said.”

Conrad waved a hand. “Not to worry. I’ll give you some paper and a pen but you should pick up a notebook before tomorrow. If you’re not sure what kind or where to buy it, ask one of the Wiseman Elves. They’ll know what you’ll need.”

Legolas nodded and sat in a desk in the front row. Conrad handed him a legal pad and a pen and then gave him a couple of books. “These are your textbooks, and we’ll get to them soon enough, but the Chief thought I should start by telling you how the concept of police developed over time so you get an idea of where we come from and what our role is within this country’s legal system.”

Legolas nodded and Conrad pointed at the board. “So, we’ll begin with the creation of Scotland Yard, which is the primary police force in England and….”

****

“So how did your class go?” Mithlas asked Legolas later that evening when the two were sitting in the clearing in the woods where a fire had been lit. The question had been asked in Sindarin. Others were also there, including Finrod, Glorfindel and Daeron, all three sitting on the far side of the fire with mugs of hot chocolate, speaking in low tones. Legolas took a sip of his own mug of hot chocolate, courtesy of Elrohir, before answering in the same language.

“It was very interesting, though I did not learn much in the way of police work. The lieutenant spent most of it giving me the history of the development of the modern police force. It is interesting to know that much of it did not exist even two centuries ago. Tomorrow, though, I will begin learning about police procedures and such. I have… hmmm… homework, I think is the term. I have to read a number of chapters and start learning the Ten-Code.”

“Do you not find it odd to be sitting there listening to a Mortal teaching you, though?” Mithlas asked.

Legolas shrugged. “I do not think of it that way.”

“You don’t?” Aldarion asked in surprise. He was sitting on the other side of Legolas.

Legolas looked at him. “No. I see Lieutenant Conrad as one who has superior knowledge which he has deigned to impart to me, even if it is under orders from another. So, it matters not if the person is a Mortal or an Elf or even a Halfling, and believe me, I learned much from those folk, from Sam and Pippin and Merry especially.” He smiled fondly into the flames as he called to mind those particular Hobbits and others he had met the rare times he had visited the Shire.

“What about Dwarves?” Beleg asked. “Did you actually learn anything from them?” He was standing guard over the group congregated there, as were Haldir and Thandir, and had overheard the conversation, though his attention was still on the woods surrounding them.

Legolas glanced over at the ellon whose back was to them. “But of course. Gimli was a fine teacher and helped me appreciate the beauty of the earth and what it has to offer, just as I helped him appreciate trees and growing things more. I know most Elves, especially those who resided here in Middle-earth before, look upon me as an aberration or worse for my friendship with Gimli, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m a better Elf for having reached out to other races and befriending them, be they Dwarves, Hobbits or Men.”

“Well said.”

Every Elf in the clearing rose and began bowing as Oromë and Tulkas entered the circle, apparently having slipped past Beleg without him noticing. Beleg was heard to mutter in disgust, “Why do I even bother?” as he turned to face the center. Tulkas flashed the ellon a bright smile and winked at him.

“My lords, greetings,” Finrod said formally, giving the two Valar a bow. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Meaning, why are we here bothering you and mucking up your evening,” Oromë replied with a grin and Tulkas boomed out a laugh that had the nearby trees shaking.

“Something like that,” Glorfindel responded with a cheeky grin of his own.

“Well, we promise not to overstay our welcome,” Oromë retorted dryly.

“Stay as long as you like,” Glorfindel said with a diffident shrug. “Roy, some hot chocolate for our guests. Please join us, my lords, and tell us the news from Aman.”

The two Valar accepted the invitation, though they eschewed sitting on the log with Glorfindel and Finrod. Instead, two oak chairs carved intricately with flora and fauna appeared from nowhere and Oromë sat in one and Tulkas in the other. Elrohir and Elladan offered them both mugs of hot chocolate which they accepted graciously.

“Hmm… very good,” Oromë said after taking a sip. “Remind me to get the recipe from you before we leave. Vána will want it.”

Elrohir just nodded, looking a little nonplused at the idea of sharing hot chocolate recipes with the Valar.

“So, everything fine and dandy in the Blessed Realm?” Glorfindel asked after giving the Valar a moment or two to enjoy their drinks.

“Yes, everything is, as you say, fine and dandy,” Oromë replied, “or it would be.”

“What do you mean?” Finrod asked with a frown and even Glorfindel’s attitude sobered.

“Well, we have a slight problem,” Oromë answered.

“And?” Glorfindel said, sounding a bit frustrated, giving the two Valar a suspicious look. “Come on, Oromë, you and Tulkas didn’t come all the way from Valinor through the dimensional barriers to sit here drinking hot chocolate for no particular reason. What’s going on?”

“Cheeky as ever,” Tulkas said, speaking to Oromë.

“Yes, he is,” Oromë replied, ignoring Glorfindel’s fuming.

Finrod put a hand on Glorfindel’s arm and leaned over to whisper something in his ear, causing Glorfindel to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He did it a couple more times before he settled back, evincing unconcern. The two Valar watched the process with almost clinical interest, as if they were observing some scientific phenomena.

“Vorondur’s anger management classes are paying off, I see,” Oromë said with a nod of approval.

“Anger is an important part of a warrior’s arsenal,” Tulkas said, sounding very much like a professor giving a lecture, “but it should never rule him. It is your servant, not your master. When it becomes your master, then you become like Melkor.”

“Now there’s someone with anger issues,” Oromë commented with a shake of his head.

Tulkas smiled, and it was not a very pleasant one. “I enjoyed trouncing him. He made it so easy at times.”

“Well, we’re getting a bit sidetracked,” Oromë said, turning his attention to the Elves who sat or stood there listening, some of them looking concerned, not entirely sure what the conversation was all about. He pulled something out from a pocket, or perhaps simply from thin air — in the fitful light of the fire it was hard to tell which — and extended his hand to Glorfindel, who reached over and picked up what was in the Vala’s hand.

“My ring!” he exclaimed.

“Not exactly,” Oromë said. “It’s a copy. Your original ring is still sitting in the evidence room of the Wiseman Police station. Manwë felt it was too dangerous for all concerned to wait until it was released back into your custody so he asked Aulë to construct another one. So, now you have two rings, or will eventually. We suggest you put one in a safe place in the event that the other is lost. Manwë said, and I quote, ‘I am not in the business of handing out rings’ unquote. Take that as you will.”

Glorfindel actually shuddered. “No, I would hope not,” he said as he slipped the ring on his finger. “Thank you and thank Lord Aulë and the Elder King for me as well.” Oromë nodded graciously to him in acknowledgment.

Finrod gave the two Valar a considering look. “And it took two of you to deliver the ring where a Maia would have done just as well. What game are we playing my lords?” He took a sip of his drink.

“Finrod! How rude!” Glorfindel exclaimed in mock dismay. “Besides, you stole my lines.”

“Forgive me, Brother. I did not mean to overstep my bounds. Would you like my lines, instead?”

“That’s all right, Brother,” Glorfindel said with a sniff. “I’ll let it go just this once since I’m such a nice guy.” This last was spoken in English, since the idiom did not translate in Sindarin. Glorfindel evinced a virtuous air.

“Yeah, right,” everyone heard Daeron mutter and Glorfindel pretended to swat him upside his head while the loremaster ducked, flashing him a grin. The others laughed at their antics, the two Valar laughing the loudest.

When they had calmed down, Oromë said, speaking Quenya now, “I see you’ve been taking lessons from Glorfindel, Findaráto.”

“And should I not?” Finrod retorted in the same language. “He is my brother, after all. Brothers learn from one another.”

“But you’re learning all his bad habits,” Tulkas pointed out. Glorfindel obliged him by sticking his tongue out.

“You mean, I am not as… um… uptight and strait-laced as before,” Finrod said, switching to English.

“I think Middle-earth is corrupting you, Findaráto,” Oromë said.

“Thank Eru!” Finrod exclaimed in all seriousness. “I feared I was never going to go native, as I think the expression is.”

“Is that what you wanted to do, go native?” Glorfindel asked, giving him a puzzled look.

Finrod turned to him. “What I wanted was to fit in, to be as much a part of this world as I possibly could, much as you have. I envy you the ease with which you interact with the Mortals, Glorfindel. I have been reading your letters that you wrote to me over the ages and I envy you all your adventures, good or bad, while I sat behind a… a dimensional barrier doing nothing of any note.”

An awkward silence ensued for several long minutes. Glorfindel appeared pensive and he wrapped an arm around Finrod’s shoulders, giving him a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, though all there could hear. “You don’t know how many times I kept wishing you were by my side, you and Sador, sharing my adventures, wondering what adventures you might be having without me.”

“Trust me, Brother,” Finrod said with a note of bitterness, “we were not having any worth mentioning.”

“You were doing important work, nonetheless, Findaráto,” Tulkas said, “though I suspect you no longer think so, comparing what you were doing in Valinor with what is happening here. The two are not the same. Do not disparage your life, child. You think that you have been cheated out of living because you did not face the dangers that are inherent in Middle-earth, dangers your brother faced every day, but whether you acknowledge it or not, you faced dangerous situations as well, though you probably do not recognize them as such.”

“What dangerous situations?” Finrod shot back. “There were no orcs running about, and certainly no Mortals. We were not beset by war or natural disasters. Valinor has not changed in all these millennia, which, I suspect, is why so many of our people are just bored with life and cannot see the point of it anymore. There are no real challenges. Even carving out new kingdoms in the southern reaches proved to be not so dangerous since you cleared the lands of evil before we got there, leaving our people with nothing to do but clear the land and build their homes.”

“Then you would never consider returning?” Oromë asked.

“Why would I do that?” Finrod retorted. “There is nothing there for me. There never was. Why do you think I left in the first place? When I think ‘home’ I see Nargothrond, not Tirion, in my mind.”

“You appeared content,” Oromë said.

“I was resigned,” Finrod corrected. “A cage, however gilded, is still a cage. I had forgotten that over the ages until I came here. No, my lords, I have no intention of returning to Valinor, not even if I am ordered to by the Elder King himself. My life is here. Someday I hope Amarië will join me as she promised.”

“And your children?” the Lord of Forests asked quietly.

“They are adults and no longer need me. Even Finda really no longer needs me and he seems to be adapting well to Wiseman. I doubt he will want to return either, or not immediately. He is far too busy actually having fun.”

The silence which settled among them following that statement was fraught with tension as Finrod sat glaring at the two Valar whose own expressions were unreadable to the Elves. Most of them suspected that they were in communication with their fellow Valar, passing on all that was being said. Glorfindel hugged Finrod again, placing a kiss on his temple. Finally, Oromë sighed, looking sad.

“Well, we will not argue with you about this, child. We actually came here for a different reason. Our business is not really with you or Glorfindel but with others.”

“Oh?” Glorfindel asked with a lift of an eyebrow. “Anyone we know?”

For an answer, Oromë turned to look across the flames at Legolas, who straightened in surprise. The Lord of Forests smiled at him. “We are pleased that you have taken the initiative to seek out employment with the local police force, my son,” he said. “Well done!”

“Thank you,” Legolas replied softly.

Oromë nodded. “As for those of you who are hoping to join with the Rangers soon, we applaud your decision as well. The Rangers can teach you much.”

“Do you not mean what we can teach them?” Beleg asked.

“And do you know the lore of the land, Beleg Cúthalion?” Tulkas asked, his demeanor almost grave. “Do you understand the voices on the wind that tell you about this world? Do you know the ways of the woods which you have not trod, can you speak to the animals who abide here and know naught of the Eldar? Nay, child, you have much you need to learn before you can be effective as a Ranger and that goes for you all.”

“Which is why we spoke with Paul Pettingill about assigning one of his Inuit Rangers to teach you,” Oromë interjected. “He agreed. I believe he will have Harvey Lightfoot be your guide. He is a cousin of Max Lightfoot whom you have met. Harvey comes from a long line of hunters and he is also a shaman of his people, wise in the ways of the natural and spirit worlds. You would do well to listen to him, even as Prince Legolas listens to his superiors on the police force.”

Then the Vala turned back to Finrod and Glorfindel his expression solemn. “We regret that you feel that your life in Valinor has been pointless and of no worth, Findaráto. Believe me, it was not. You do not appreciate how much good you have done for your fellow Elves over the ages, nor do you see that there were dangers all around, though they were not necessarily of a physical nature. Do not think that you have been cheated out of a life. You were where Atar needed you the most, just as Glorfindel was needed here. You both were doing what you were supposed to do and you did it with grace and aplomb whatever the circumstances. Rejoice that you are now together once again and take comfort that the greatest adventure of all lies before you still and you will face it together.”

He stood as did Tulkas, the chairs they had called forth disappearing. “We will leave you for now,” Oromë said, handing his empty mug to Finrod who took it. Oromë glanced at Elrohir standing off to one side. “I still want that recipe, son. Write it down. I’ll have Olórin pick it up for me.”

Elrohir could only nod and then without further words, the two Valar turned and walked away, passing Beleg once again and fading into the night, leaving the Elves staring at the space where they had been. Finally, Glorfindel stirred, idly fiddling with his new ring.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said to no one in particular.

Daeron snorted. “A gross understatement if there ever was one. Finrod, are you well, mellon nîn?”

Finrod nodded. “Yes,” he said without much conviction, his expression pensive.

Glorfindel gave him another hug before standing. “C’mon, let’s go home. I think I’ve had enough of the great outdoors for a while.”

Finrod nodded, standing as well. Daeron joined them.

“Carry on, people,” Glorfindel said as he, Finrod and Daeron left the circle of the fire and headed into the woods.

Legolas watched them go, then turned to Mithlas and Aldarion. “Will he be all right, do you think?” he asked.

“Who? Finrod?” Mithlas said. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine eventually. What he said about himself I think others probably feel as well.”

“What do you mean?” Aldarion asked.

“Oh, simply that those of us who used to live here and remember how it was, looking at what the Wiseman Elves experienced in the long ages, I sort of envy them. Compared to them, my life was rather dull and I suspect others, especially the Reborn, also envy them, since they did not return to Valinor of their own free will. Given the choice, they might well have remained here. Is that not so, Beleg?”

He turned to speak with the ellon who was still on guard. Beleg nodded but did not otherwise speak, never taking his eyes from the woods.

“Well, while I may wish I had been able to share in the Twins’ adventures here in Middle-earth,” Legolas said, “I am just grateful that I have the opportunity to have my own now that I’m here. I hope Finrod sees it that way eventually.”

The other two nodded and then someone began singing a favorite hymn to Elbereth and the three ellyn joined in.

****

Glorfindel, Finrod and Daeron made their way through the woods in silence, but when they reached the forest edge and could see Edhellond on the other side of the field, they stopped almost as one.

“How are you feeling, Loren?” Daeron asked. “Does the ring help?”

“Yes, it does,” Glorfindel answered. “Almost as soon as I put it on it felt as if a great weight were lifted from my shoulders. Never realized how tense I was feeling.” He turned to Finrod, his expression one of concern. “Are you going to be all right, Finrod?”

Finrod shrugged. “Eventually,” he said softly, not looking at either ellon.

“I’m sorry you feel as if your life was a waste, mellon nîn,” Daeron said sincerely, “but they were right about one thing though: the greatest adventure lies before us, before us all, and you and Loren will be together for that. And here’s another thing.”

“What?” Finrod asked.

“Did you notice that they never did explain what the… um… slight problem was they were having?”

Both Glorfindel and Finrod blinked, as if trying to figure out the loremaster’s meaning and then Glorfindel swore softly. “Devious little orc-lovers. You’re right! They never told us what the problem was.”

“Do you think they did that deliberately or did they just forget the way we did?” Finrod asked, looking pensive.

Glorfindel snorted. “Them forget? Give me a break, Brother. No, they purposely chose not to bring the subject up again. I think your… er… attitude may have had something to do with it.”

“My attitude? Simply because I expressed my feelings of being cheated by them?”

Glorfindel just shrugged and when Finrod looked at Daeron, the Sinda shrugged as well. “He does have a point. I know little of the Belain and their ways. I must trust that you two are more familiar with them and that Loren speaks truly. I could see that they were genuinely upset by your revelation.”

“I am sure they will get over it,” Finrod said with a sneer.

“Now you sound like me,” Glorfindel said. “Not that that’s not a good thing as far as I’m concerned but you’re stealing all my best lines.”

Both Finrod and Daeron chuckled as the three resumed their trek across the field to the house, walking lightly on top of the snow, leaving no footprints. “I will endeavor not to steal too many of them, my brother, but perhaps you will allow me to borrow a few until I come up with my own.”

Glorfindel flashed him a conspiratorial grin which Finrod echoed, but the moment of levity faded when Daeron said, “Still, I wish I knew what was going on in Aman and what the so-called ‘slight problem’ is and just how slight is it really? Our definition of ‘slight’ might well be different from theirs. I have a feeling that whenever we do find out, we’re not going to like it.”

Glorfindel and Finrod could only nod, both in agreement with that sentiment.