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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

102: Conversations in the Library

Glorfindel opened the front door of Edhellond and ushered their guests inside. “Welcome to our humble abode,” he said with a grin. Those who lived there chuckled as they flitted down the hall or up the stairs. Beleg invited Gwyn to come out to the woods with him and some of the others who were not interested in staying indoors.

“We can speak about this ess… cee… ay and how we can help train the Mortals through it,” he suggested and Gwyn agreed once his parents declared that they thought it was a good idea.

“I never could figure out what the attraction was for you and Gareth in joining the SCA,” Tristan admitted. “Seemed rather pointless.”

“Well, when you receive your marching orders from a Vala, Da, it’s rather hard to say no,” Gwyn retorted with a smile. Then he wished them all a good night and followed Beleg and some others down the hall and out the back door.

Tristan and Iseult excused themselves, saying, quite truthfully, that they were still feeling jet lagged and it had been a long day of traveling. “We need to recenter our chi, as the Mortals would say,” Iseult explained.

“I thought we could begin deciding on the preliminaries of the betrothal contract,” Celeborn said with a frown.

Both Tristan and Iseult exchanged meaningful looks and then Tristan said, “Perhaps later when we’re more rested. Right now, I’m so tired, I’m not likely to be anywhere near coherent and one should never talk business when one is half-dead from lack of sleep.”

“Forgive me,” Celeborn said with a slight bow of his head. “I am being selfish and I am probably still in shock over the realization that my daughter is nearly bonded to a complete stranger.”

“We’re all in shock, my lord,” Tristan said diplomatically. “At least Iseult and I have had a day or two to get used to the idea, but still, it’s the last thing either of us expected to find when we came here.”

“Well, when everyone is ready to sit down and discuss the contract, we’ll open the conference room for you,” Glorfindel said.

The two sets of parents nodded in agreement and the ap Hywels made their farewells and headed upstairs. Surprisingly, Finrod started up the stairs as well, pulling Amarië with him.

“Where are you two going, as if I didn’t know?” Glorfindel asked with a leer. “Don’t you want to stick around for the tour?”

Finrod gave his gwador a sniff. “I thought to start with my room.”

“Don’t you think it would be better if you ended with your room?” Glorfindel asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“No,” Finrod said firmly. “It has been a long day for me as well and I wish to sleep.”

“Like that’s going to happen anytime soon,” Daeron muttered, though they all heard him. He cast a knowing look at Finrod and several of the others still hanging about the foyer sniggered in agreement. Finrod blushed and Amarië wouldn’t look at anyone in particular.

Glorfindel gave them both a wide grin. “Well, breakfast is at eight, if you’re so inclined. Enjoy your… um… sleep.”

Finrod just nodded and then he and Amarië disappeared up the stairs. Glorfindel turned to Celeborn and Galadriel. “So, would you like a tour?”

“Perhaps just the downstairs,” Galadriel said with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “We would not wish to disturb anyone who is… um… sleeping.”

“No, we certainly wouldn’t,” Glorfindel said, grinning.

“I’ll go make some coffee and meet you in the library when you’re done,” Daeron said and he left them with Melyanna joining him.

Glorfindel put an arm around Helyanwë and gestured to Celeborn and Galadriel. “Well, first stop is the conference room just down this hall….”

****

They finished up the tour with the library. Celeborn immediately began examining the books, asking Daeron questions about them. Elu Thingol’s former minstrel had set up the coffee on a sideboard along with some cinnamon rolls with Melyanna’s help and left Glorfindel to play host and pour a cup for Galadriel while he went to answer Celeborn’s questions. Melyanna joined them, while Helyanwë remained with Glorfindel.

“So what do you think?” Glorfindel asked Galadriel quietly, handing her a cup. “The taste is bitter so you might want to add cream and sugar or just honey, but some people like it without.”

“What do I think about what?” Galadriel retorted, taking a sip of the drink, grimacing slightly at its bitterness and adding a bit of honey to it. She tasted it again, deciding it was sweet enough.

“About Edhellond, about Wiseman, about the wedding, whatever,” Glorfindel replied.

Galadriel gave him a searching look and he returned her gaze with a calm demeanor, well used to the once Lady of the Golden Wood and her ways. She had always held great native power, but Glorfindel was no slouch in that department either and was able to hold his own against her. They both knew the mettle of the other and respected it.

“You have done well, all of you,” Galadriel said. “I am impressed.”

“And you don’t impress easily, as I recall,” Glorfindel said with a grin, then he decided to change the subject. “Tell me about Turgon.”

Galadriel raised a delicate eyebrow. “What do you wish to know?”

“When I was first re-embodied and began reclaiming my memories, my Life Oath to Turgon was one of the first things I remembered about my life in Gondolin. The memory of that oath drove me, made me do things I shouldn’t have.” He paused, giving Galadriel a wry look as he gestured toward the settee, inviting her to sit, which she did. Glorfindel pulled the chair from around the desk to sit on, facing her. “No doubt you’ve heard about my… er… escapades from Finrod or others.”

“A few, but not as many as you might think,” Galadriel responded, accepting a plate of the cinnamon rolls that Helyanwë handed to her with a nod of thanks. “Believe it or not, you were not always the topic of conversation amongst us.”

“Thank Eru,” Glorfindel said with a laugh. “That would have been both boring and embarrassing.” He paused, his demeanor becoming more solemn. “Tell me.”

Galadriel busied herself with her coffee for a moment before replying. Helyanwë started to leave them, meaning to give them more privacy, but Galadriel stayed her, patting the seat beside her in invitation and after a momentary hesitation, she complied, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Glorfindel gave her a warm smile and she relaxed a bit, returning his smile with a shy one of her own.

“Turgon slept until the Fourth Age,” Galadriel said without preamble, “at least so we were told and then he spent some time afterwards wandering the Halls of Mandos before he was finally allowed to be re-embodied.”

Glorfindel felt a sense of shock at her words. “I did not know he had slept that long. I don’t think anyone slept that long. Most of us seemed to sleep for a few decades or even a few centuries, but for more than three ages? Why so long?”

Galadriel gave him a delicate shrug. “When I asked Lord Námo that point blank he just blinked at me as if I’d said something rude and then he shrugged and said, and I am quoting here, ‘He slept for as long as he needed to and no longer. If you had come to my Halls, my dear, I’m sure your sleep would have been even longer.’” She cast him a wry look.

“Typical,” Glorfindel said, shaking his head, his initial shock wearing off and being replaced with wry amusement. “He is very good at answering questions with non-answers.”

“They all are, hanno, or hadn’t you noticed?” Galadriel retorted.

Glorfindel looked at her in momentary surprise at her addressing him as ‘brother’ and then the two shared a smile.

“Yes, but it’s been long ages since I’ve had to deal with any of them on a regular basis. One tends to forget how bloody annoying they can be when they put their minds to it. How was Turgon afterwards? I just get the feeling that his reintegration into society did not go smoothly, or perhaps, less smoothly than is typical of the Reborn.”

“He ran away twice,” Galadriel replied. “The first time, straight back to Lórien.”

Glorfindel nodded in understanding. “And the second?”

“Ah, that was interesting. When he disappeared a second time, we all naturally thought he would go back to Lórien, but he didn’t. We even thought perhaps he headed for Tol Eressëa, to be with Elrond, his great-grandson and the last link to his own daughter.”

“What of Elenwë?”

“She was reborn sometime after you left and had the primary task of keeping Turgon in line.”

“Ah, much like Anairë with Nolofinwë. I’m surprised your uncle did not handle Turgon himself, though.”

“Oh, he did, but Elenwë insisted on doing most of the work, claiming that as Turgon was her husband she had the right. Frankly, I think Uncle Nolofinwë was happy to leave her to it.”

“So Elrond still lives on Tol Eressëa.” Glorfindel made it more a statement than a question.

“Mostly, though he and Celebrían also have a townhouse in Tirion. Elrond point-blank refused to live in the palace. At any rate, when Celebrían eventually recovered she moved to Tol Eressëa and had a fair copy of Imladris built on the north side of the island where it’s more mountainous, somewhat midway between Kortirion and Angobel.” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at that but did not comment. Galadriel took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “Anyway, Turgon was not there either and so a general search was ordered of all of Aman. Finrod suggested that Turgon might have headed for the mountains, much as he himself had done once.”

“Yes, I remember him telling me about that,” Glorfindel said with a fond smile at the memory. “So, where did you find Turgon?”

“On the other side of the Pelóri attempting to find one of the settlements on that side. Only he lost his way, confused by the forests that grow hard by the mountains. There’s no road even now. The only road is along the coast with the occasional side road that leads into the interior and to the settlements that have sprung up over the ages. Turgon decided that taking the road would be too risky so he opted for the mountains. It took Maiar to find him, for no one even thought of him going overmountain. We all thought he would take the sea-road.”

“Did he tell you why he was there and where he was heading?”

“He said he wanted to find Gondolin again,” Galadriel answered.

“Then he was heading in the wrong direction,” Glorfindel responded with a snort, shaking his head.

“He was still struggling with his memories and only knew that Gondolin was surrounded by mountains and since the only mountains visible were the Pelóri…” She left the thought hanging there between them and Glorfindel nodded in understanding.

“When he was returned to Tirion he became almost impossible to handle,” Galadriel continued after a moment. “He had become disoriented and frightened because nothing was familiar to him and none of it made sense. Uncle Nolofinwë wanted to send him to Lórien, thinking time there would help calm him but he became so hysterical, insisting he would be good and please don’t send him back to Mandos, which was the furthest thing from our mind, that eventually, Uncle called for help and Finrod returned to Tirion as quickly as he could from Aewellond, where he had been visiting. Eärendil came with him, bringing him on Vingilot.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. “Been there and done that myself.”

“Yes, so I heard,” Galadriel said with a smile. “They stayed for some time, years actually, working with Turgon, helping him to accept what could not be changed. I think having Eärendil there, whom he last saw as a child of seven, and seeing him now a grown ellon with lordship over his own kingdom, helped him, forced him to mature, not wishing to be outdone by his own grandson.”

“Yet I get the feeling that his attitude is not something new,” Glorfindel said. “When did he begin to remember the Life Oath and began reclaiming his Death Sworn?”

“Oh, centuries passed before that happened and Atar was very insistent that none of the Death Sworn be allowed to meet with Turgon when he first was released to us. Atar, in fact, made it a point to find out who all of Turgon’s Death Sworn were and then very politely, but quite firmly told them to leave Tirion, indeed to leave Aman, and go to Vanyalondë or anywhere else they pleased in the Southern Reaches and not to return to Aman proper until called for.”

“Rather harsh,” Glorfindel opined.

“But necessary, I deem. Turgon was… wild in ways that even Finrod said were unusual for a Reborn. It was as if something in him was not completely healed, but no one could figure it out and the Valar were conspicuous by their silence.” This last was said in a dry tone and Glorfindel had to chuckle.

“Tell me about it,” he said as he sipped his coffee. Then he sighed, looking somewhat distraught. “I have the feeling that I was the missing part that was unhealed.”

“How do you figure that?” Galadriel asked.

“Turgon and I had a falling out over Maeglin shortly before Gondolin was destroyed. In fact, Turgon exiled me from the city for a time, sending me to one of the outposts for my sins. He had only just allowed me to return to the city when Morgoth attacked. I am afraid my last words to him were not kind. In fact they were more or less along the lines of ‘I told you so, you stupid ellon’. It was a long time before I could forgive myself for those words and the guilt I felt over them, the hurt in Turgon’s eyes as I left him to help Tuor rescue Idril and Eärendil from Maeglin.”

For a long moment they sat there in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Then, surprisingly, it was Helyanwë who spoke next, her tone hesitant, as if unsure her words would be welcomed. “At least you now have the chance to make it up to him.”

Galadriel smiled at her kindly, patting her knee. “Very wise, my dear, and very true,” she said, then turned to Glorfindel, “which is why Atar allowed him to come with us, hoping that the breach between you could finally be healed.”

Glorfindel nodded, closing his eyes briefly before opening them. “As if I don’t have enough to deal with right now.”

“But if I know you, Glorfindel, you will do what needs doing with your usual verve and aplomb.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you. More coffee?”

“No, but I would not mind another sticky bun,” she said, handing him her empty plate, giving him a coy smile.

Glorfindel smiled. “One sticky bun coming up,” he said, standing and going to the sideboard while Galadriel took a moment to ask Helyanwë how she was finding Middle-earth.

Meanwhile, Celeborn, with Daeron and Melyanna beside him, was examining the books on the shelves with Daeron reading off the titles.

“The Valar did not teach us to read this Mortal language except for some basic signs so that we would not cause embarrassment,” Celeborn said with a slight smile.

“Ah, yes,” Daeron said, not sure what else to say. He was feeling somewhat ambivalent being in the same room with Lord Celeborn whom he remembered as a puissant warrior and one of Elu Thingol’s most trusted councilors, known throughout Doriath for his wisdom. Even the Noldor had grudgingly respected him, particularly after Finrod had welcomed him into his family. Daeron had always had a soft spot for this particular ellon, remembering when he had been a wide-eyed elfling running through the halls of Menegroth.

“We missed you, you know.”

Daeron blinked, pulling himself out of the past to stare at Celeborn who stood calmly before him, running a hand idly over the spines of the books. He gave Daeron a knowing look.

“Elu had all of Doriath searched when you went missing and even sent emissaries to the Noldor to see if you had gone to any of them. Even contacted the Wandering Companies, but no one admitted to having seen you. Even the Mortals denied any knowledge of you and Melian would not say if you lived or died, though I, at least, always suspected she knew more than she let on. When I finally reached Valinor, I looked her up and demanded a few answers to some hard questions.”

“How is she?” Daeron whispered.

Celeborn smiled, placing a hand on the minstrel’s shoulder. “She was well enough. She and Elu do not reside together though. He’s actually Olwë’s ambassador to Vanyalondë at the moment and Melian… well, she is first and foremost a Maia and she has her own duties.”

“I fled over the mountains, making sure no one saw me,” Daeron said, speaking somewhat woodenly, gazing now at the fire as his mind fled down the halls of memory to a time he tried hard to forget. “For a time, I haunted the east side of the Ered Luin, begging for scraps from the Dwarves, paying them with songs.” He gave Celeborn a sideways glance. “I bet Elu never thought to send emissaries to the Dwarf-lords about me.”

“No, as far as I know, he never did, which, given the fact that, at the time, we were still on friendly terms with Belegost and Nogrod, does seem odd.”

Daeron shrugged, not really caring.

“What happened, Daeron?” Celeborn asked softly. “What happened to you? I look into your eyes and behind the calm I see… horror and anguish.”

Daeron however, remained silent, staring into the fire, his expression remote and full of sadness and regret. Melyanna wrapped her arms around him, attempting to give him some comfort. He turned to look at her and gave her a brief smile before turning back to gaze into the flames. Celeborn waited for a moment or two before speaking again, his voice low and full of compassion. “Daeron, how did Glorfindel and my grandsons find you?”

Daeron stifled a sob or tried to and then Glorfindel was there taking him into his embrace and holding him. “Back off, Celeborn,” he said softly yet with great intent. “You do not need to know the details of how we met. Is it not enough that we did?”

“What happened?” Celeborn demanded, though he never raised his voice. “Before we came here, we were told who we would meet. Elu specifically charged me to speak with Daeron and learn from him his story, all of it, good and bad. Elu, all of us, never ceased to wonder what happened to him. I think we have the right to know.”

“The only right you have here, Celeborn, is the right to see that in this time and place, Daeron and the rest of us are thriving. Trust me, my friend, you do not want to know how the Twins and I found Daeron.”

“Why?” Celeborn demanded, though his tone was more puzzled than belligerent.

Glorfindel’s expression hardened. “Because you will want to kill the first Mortal you meet in revenge.”

Celeborn lifted an eyebrow at that. “Then he suffered at the hands of Mortals,” he said, making it more a statement than a question.

“We’ve all suffered at the hands of Mortals, Celeborn,” Glorfindel retorted, his voice and his expression absolutely frigid, “and to answer your next question, by the time I finished with the Mortals who had Daeron, they were either dead or insane, and those who were insane died soon enough. They’re all dead, Celeborn, have been dead for thousands of years and their descendants do not walk this earth because I and the Twins made sure of every last one of them down to the child born yesterday.”

Celeborn could not hide his shock and Galadriel came to him, wrapping her arms around him. He stared at Daeron still held in Glorfindel’s embrace. “Forgive me,” he said sorrowfully.

Glorfindel just nodded, pulling Daeron away to look at him, giving him an encouraging smile. “Ron’s been helping you, hasn’t he?”

Daeron just nodded.

“Would you like me to call him?”

Daeron started to shake his head and then stopped, looking suddenly defeated and nodded once, not looking at anyone. Glorfindel hugged him. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m glad you’re finally talking to someone about it. Now, why don’t you sit here with Anna and have some coffee and a cinnamon roll and I’ll contact Ron.”

“Ron?” Celeborn asked.

“Vorondur,” Glorfindel answered. “You met him and his wife, Ercassë, this evening. Their daughter is marrying your grandson, in case you’d forgotten.”

“So, why would Daeron speak of his past to him and not to me?” Celeborn demanded.

“Because Ron is a professional, trained to help people face their past,” Glorfindel retorted as he pulled out his phone from a pocket and speed-dialed a number. “Hi Ron, it’s Loren. Sorry if I woke you or anything… Oh, okay. Good… Ah… well, I’m afraid we need you over here… Daeron… Celeborn was asking questions… No, I put a stop to it but… yeah… Thanks. We’re in the library… See you shortly.” He closed down the phone and shoved it back into his pocket. “Ron will be here as soon as possible.” He crouched down in front of Daeron. “How are you doing?” he asked gently.

Daeron shook his head and then tried to stifle the tears but he gave a strangled sob and Glorfindel reached out and took him into his arms. “It’s going to be all right, mellon nîn. I promise. Shh… it’s all right… it’s all right.”

He was still comforting the ellon while the others looked on in sympathy when there was a knock on the door and then Vorondur came into the room, taking everything in at once. Glorfindel stood up. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he said. “Come on, everyone,” and he was already pulling Celeborn and Galadriel away with Helyanwë trailing. Melyanna hesitated, looking distressed, obviously not wanting to leave. Vorondur gave her a hug.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Go, child. I’ll take good care of him for you.” She nodded, bent down to give Daeron a kiss on the forehead and then followed the others out. She stopped in the doorway and looked back in time to see Vorondur crouching before Daeron, offering him a warm smile.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he said as Melyanna closed the door and joined the others who had gone to the kitchen and then out the back, where apparently Glorfindel was showing their guests the garden under a predawn sky still full of stars.





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