110: Sunday Discussions

They reached Edhellond to find Daeron waiting for them at the door.

“We’re meeting in the media room,” he informed them. “We’ve put coffee and tea on and they should be ready soon.”

With that, he led the way down the hall to the room set aside for watching TV. Ingwë and the others from Valinor looked about with interest. At the moment the screen was blank, but Daeron went to the remote and pressed a button and the screen lit up.

“Just find a seat or stand. The news will be on shortly.”

“Oh, we’re in the news again?” Alphwen asked with an air of exasperation. “What now?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Daeron said with a wry look. He excused himself, saying that Glorfindel would be in shortly and just as he was leaving, Glorfindel did arrive, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt.

“Ah, good. Just in time,” he said. “Please sit and make yourselves comfortable. Daeron will bring in coffee and tea shortly.”

“What is this all about?” Ingwë asked as he took a seat on one of the two sofas with the other kings joining him. Everyone else found seats or stood against the wall or sat on the floor.

“Well, we made the news,” Glorfindel explained as he settled gracefully on the floor next to the sofa in which the kings were sitting.

“Yonya, why are you sitting on the floor?” Ingwë asked, sounding nonplused. “There are plenty of chairs.”

“That’s okay,” Glorfindel said with a dismissive wave of a hand. “I’m fine where I am.”

Ingwë glanced at Arafinwë who shrugged, rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper, “Reborn.”

“I heard that,” Glorfindel said, giving them a knowing smile.

Ingwë decided to drop the subject. “So, the news?”

 “Think of it as one of your minstrels standing in the middle of the main city square and shouting to all and sundry the latest doings in the palace, only here, we have KWTV, Wiseman’s own television station,” Glorfindel explained. “They generally run local programs of interest as well as give the news and weather report. Here we go. Gil, you want to turn up the volume?”

Gilvegil nodded and grabbed the remote and the volume rose. Ingwë watched in fascination at the images resolving themselves on the screen until they showed a Man and a Woman sitting at a desk and a voice saying, “News at the top of the hour with Dean Chambers and Priscilla Parker.”

Then it seemed as if the two Mortals were actually looking at them. “Good evening,” the Man said, smiling into the camera. “I’m Dean Chambers.”

“And I’m Priscilla Parker,” the Woman added with her own smile.

Then the Man spoke again. “In international news, the EU has declared…”

“They’ll go through world and national news before they get to the local stuff,” Glorfindel explained softly. “You might find it interesting, even if you don’t understand it.”

Ingwë and the others nodded, listening intently. Ingwë actually found himself gasping in surprise at the graphics and the images, especially when told that he was seeing what was actually happening or had happened on the other side of the world.

“This is better than the palantíri my brother created,” Arafinwë muttered and several people nodded.

The station went to commercials and those from Valinor took the opportunity to ask some questions about what they had seen and heard, trying to grasp the enormity of the various situations that had been described. Valinor was, after all, a single continent and in comparison to these mortal lands, sparsely populated. To think that the Mortals had the means of learning almost instantaneously what would take days if not weeks to reach Ingwë’s ear was incredible. But he had little time to process the information when the news returned.

“Turning to local news,” Dean Chambers said, “Wiseman experienced a special event today. Priscilla?”

“Yes, Dean, while there were no wedding bells, there was certainly a wedding.”

Suddenly, they were seeing images of the Grange Hall and Ingwë saw Elrohir and Serindë exiting along with the rest of the wedding party while Priscilla continued her spiel.

“Dr. Roy Ronaldson and Ms. Sarah Brightman, daughter of the distinguished psychiatrist, Dr. Ron Brightman, were married this evening before Judge James Harrison in a civil ceremony here at the Grange Hall. Town dignitaries, including our own Mayor Whitman, Chief Michaelson and others, were in attendance, along with special dignitaries visiting from Valinor. We understand that Ingwë Ingaran, High King of all the Eldar was there, as were Arafinwë Noldóran and Olwë Lindaran.”

“Hey! You’re famous,” Elladan exclaimed. Several people shushed him, including the three kings.

“They actually got our titles correct,” Arafinwë whispered, sounding almost awed.

Ingwë nodded, watching in amazement as the camera zoomed in to show close ups of people as they were being identified by the reporter. “Great. My hair’s all mussed,” he heard Olwë mutter in disgust and tried not to laugh. As far as he could tell from the brief glimpse accorded them of the Telerin king, Olwë looked impeccably groomed as always.

Priscilla continued her report. “As you can see, while the bride is dressed in a traditional wedding gown, which we learned was hand sewn and embroidered, the groom dressed in what we have been told is considered formal wear among the Elves rather than the more traditional tuxedo and that appears true for the other Elves as well.”

They saw brief glimpses of some of the other Elves, in particular, Glorfindel and Finrod, as well as Galadriel and Amarië, as the camera managed to capture them all.

“We spoke to one or two people who had attended the ceremony,” Priscilla said and the image shifted to an elderly Man who apparently was speaking to someone they could not see. “It was a lovely ceremony. Very tastefully done with a blend of Elvish and human traditions.”

Then the Man’s image was replaced by that of a middle-aged Woman with dark skin dressed very elegantly. “It was a gorgeous ceremony. I would never think to hold a wedding in the Grange Hall and make it as beautiful and as moving as if it were being held in a church, but the Elves managed to pull it off. And the gown! Laws child, it’s a veritable work of art.”

The camera switched back to Dean and Priscilla. “In fact,” Priscilla said, speaking more to Dean than to the audience, “this reporter learned that much of the ribbon embroidery on the bride’s gown was done by our very own Loren DelaFiore.”

“Amazing,” Dean commented and then asked, “Any idea where the bride and groom have gone for their honeymoon?”

“Now that would be telling, Dean,” Priscilla said with a light laugh as she faced the camera. “At any rate, we at KWTV wish to offer our congratulations to the happy couple and their families and wish them well.”

“Next up, the weather,” Dean announced as the station went to another commercial break. Without being told, Gilvegil turned off the TV and for a long moment silence hung heavily upon the air. Ingwë glanced at his fellow kings to gauge their reactions. Arafinwë raised an eyebrow while Olwë just shrugged. Then he looked down at Glorfindel who glanced up at him, one side of his mouth quirking in a sardonic smile.

“Well, it could’ve been worse,” he said, “and at least Priscilla had the good sense to interview Fred and Adele.”

“You know those people?” Ingwë asked, surprised, though why he should be, he had no idea. Glorfindel knew everybody, or so it seemed.

Glorfindel nodded as he gracefully rose from the floor. “Fred Steiner. We rescued him and his wife from Farrell and his goons not too long ago. Roy and Fred’s wife, Ellen, love to trade hot chocolate recipes.”

“And the Woman?” Arafinwë asked.

“Adele Makepeace, the wife of the Reverend Josiah Makepeace, a very prominent member of the clergy and a good friend of ours. He and Finrod have struck up a friendship.”

Ingwë looked to where Finrod was seated with Amarië. “Josiah declared me an enemy and then told his congregation that they had to love me,” he said with a straight face.

Ingwë wasn’t the only one to raise an eyebrow at that rather ludicrous statement while several of those residing in Wiseman snorted in good humor. Glorfindel grinned widely. “At any rate, I find it interesting that Roy and Sarah were identified by their mortal names only without adding their Elvish names, which is usually the case when any news about us is reported. What do you think of it, Ron?”

Vorondur, who had been standing along the wall, pursed his lips. “I think someone made an executive decision to treat this as a normal event typical of any town where two prominent people are wed.”

“And the fact that they happened to be Elves was not to be harped upon?” Daeron asked.

“So it would seem,” Vorondur replied.

“So, does that mean we’ve arrived or what?” Barahir asked.

Ingwë was unsure what the ellon meant by that, though Glorfindel seemed to understand, for he shrugged. “I have no idea, Barry. Notice that Ingwë and his entourage were referred to as ‘special dignitaries visiting from Valinor’ with no other comment. She could just as easily have said, ‘Friends and colleagues of the groom from back East’ with the same emphasis.”

“In other words, having people from Valinor, especially royalty, is just business-as-usual in Wiseman?” Nimrodel asked somewhat skeptically from where she was seated in a straight-backed chair with Amroth sitting on the floor beside her.

“That’s my guess,” Glorfindel said.

“And that means what exactly?” Finrod asked.

It was Vorondur who answered. “It means that Chris Norton, who runs the station, is playing it low-key. We’re three days from the election. People across town saw the same news report we just saw and however fancily dressed some of us were in comparison to the Mortals, the wedding itself was described in normal terms, very straightforward. It could have been anyone’s wedding. People will see the report and the matter-of-fact manner in which it was presented and may actually ignore the fact that the bride and groom were Elves; they were simply the bride and groom, hence the use of their mortal names without any reference to their Elvish identities with appropriate titles.”

“So that’s a good thing, right?” Cennanion asked.

“So it would appear,” Vorondur replied with a shrug. “Time alone will tell. At least we may be grateful for the fact that the report was positive in its presentation. And I suspect that Ms Parker will be hearing from her boss about that last line.”

“What do you mean?” Arafinwë asked. “I thought it was very polite of her to offer congratulations.”

“But she offered them on behalf of everyone working at the station,” Vorondur retorted. “I may be mistaken, but I believe that last line was completely ad-libbed. Did you not notice Dean stiffening slightly as she spoke? And he had to force the smile he gave the camera when he announced that the weather was next up.”

“And I thought I was fairly observant,” Glorfindel said.

Vorondur smiled. “Yes, but unlike you, I get paid to be that observant.” He turned surprisingly to Valandur. “Did you see what I saw?”

Valandur nodded. “Yes. The Man was not pleased with the Woman and the Woman was more than pleased with herself. I suspect there was some debate over the proper manner in which to end the report and the Woman decided to take matters in her own hands at the last moment. Up until then, everything that was said between them had been planned in advance.”

“You got that, did you?” Glorfindel asked, giving him a respectful look.

“Body language,” Valandur responded. “There were subliminal cues all along. One merely needs to look.”

“Yes, well, it will be interesting to see how it falls out,” Glorfindel said. “I’m sure that when the Gazette comes out on Friday, the wedding of the year will be an inside story buried on page three while the election is front-page news.”

“Which is only proper,” Finrod stated categorically. “Weddings, while lovely, are a one-time event and have little impact on anyone except the immediate families involved. This election will impact all of us, both Elves and Mortals, for weal or for woe.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right there, gwador,” Glorfindel allowed. “Well, I imagine you all would like to return to the encampment and get some rest. Olórin said he would provide an appropriate escort.”

“I have promised our servants the opportunity to visit the town while we are here. None of them ever resided in Endórë or met any Mortals, so they are curious.”

“Why don’t we plan to show them around in the morning then?” Daeron offered. “We’re all free to provide tours. If we split people up into small groups, we should be less noticed.”

“Works for me,” Glorfindel said and Ingwë nodded as well.

“I will inform them. Why don’t you come to the encampment and break your fast with us? Shall we say two hours past dawn?”

“That would make it around seven,” Daeron informed them.

“We’ll be there,” Glorfindel said and then he and Finrod escorted those returning to the encampment to the front door where Olórin and Mánatamir were waiting. Vorondur and his family, along with Amroth and Nimrodel, said their good nights as well and left to return to the Grange Hall where they had left their cars. Fionwë appeared just then in his Finn disguise and offered to escort them.

“Just to be on the safe side,” the Maia said and no one objected as everyone wished everyone else a good night.

Those staying in Edhellond scattered to find their own amusements or their beds and soon the night settled into silence.

****

Morning saw most of the Elves at the encampment enjoying breakfast, though some of the healers, including Elladan, had left an hour earlier to go to the hospital for their shift. The day was sunny and relatively warm even for Wiseman and people were relaxed and in a good mood.

“There are enough of us that we can break up into small groups of just three or four, I think,” Glorfindel said to Ingwë as they ate. “That should make us less noticed. This is nominally a day of rest for most Mortals. Many of them will be found attending religious services praising Eru, something like the folks back home congregating before the Elder King’s mansion in Valmar on Valanya and singing hymns.”

Ingwë nodded in understanding. “Will there be an opportunity for us to speak to some of the Mortals, particularly those who rule here?”

“Hmm… well, those who rule these lands live in Washington, D.C.,” Glorfindel said with a quirk of his lips. “I don’t think we have time to cross the continent and pay a visit to the White House.”

Gareth, who happened to be sitting nearby with Nielluin, practically snorted his coffee, which the Elves had brought along in several thermoses. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking suitably embarrassed.

“Do you think there will ever be a time when the Ingaran and the President will actually meet on the White House lawn?” Gwyn asked in all seriousness.

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Glorfindel replied with a grin, then he addressed Ingwë. “I think it might be wiser to wait until after the election to meet with the leaders of Wiseman. For one thing, the present mayor will no longer be mayor but I can certainly arrange for a private meeting with him if you would like. Harry Whitman has proven to be a very good friend of ours, welcoming us and practically giving us the keys to the kingdom, as it were. Even when he’s no longer in office, he’ll be influential. People, even his enemies, respect him and his integrity, and they’ll listen when he speaks.”

“That would be acceptable,” Ingwë said. “We do need to hold meetings while we are here.” He nodded to Arafinwë and Olwë as he spoke.

“So, why don’t we see how many people want to tour and be on our way,” Glorfindel said and once the tally was made and people were divided up, those who had volunteered to give tours led their groups away, some heading to the college and others going in the opposite direction. They would begin to split up once they were away from the campus. Glorfindel, Finrod, Daeron, Valandur, Amroth, Nimrodel, Vorondur and Ercassë stayed behind to visit with the royals who had agreed to clean up the breakfast dishes so their servants could go on their tour. Beside the three kings, Celeborn and Turgon also remained behind.

“I’ve seen enough of Wiseman,” Turgon declared somewhat huffily as he took a long pull of the wine he was drinking and several people exchanged glances. Glorfindel frowned slightly, nodding to himself, as if he had been given the answer to a question.

Elrond and Celebrían decided to join in with the tours. “I still wish to visit a pharmacy,” Elrond told them and Barahir, who was leading their group nodded. “Luckily, pharmacies are one of the few stores opened on Sundays so we’ll visit one along the way,” he assured the former Master of Imladris.

The ap Hywels opted out of the tours, deciding to drive over to Chandalar for a picnic at the lake. Nielluin went with them, as did Mithrellas, which surprised many, though not all.

“I am only going as a chaperone,” Mithrellas said with a sniff.

“Yeah, sure you are, Misty,” Glorfindel said with a knowing smile. “Enjoy yourselves.”

Galadriel and Amarië also remained behind, sitting with Nimrodel, keeping her company along with Ercassë. She and Ercassë had in fact brought along knitting with which to occupy themselves.

“We have to knit some extra clothes now that we know there are three babies on the way instead of only two,” Nimrodel explained as she began knitting a pair of yellow booties while Ercassë worked on a bonnet of the same color. Galadriel and Amarië excused themselves long enough to retrieve some embroidery before joining them.

In the meantime, Glorfindel and Finrod washed while the three kings dried. The other ellyn put everything away and tidied up the area around the main pavilion which was used as a congregating area and as they cleaned, they talked, mainly about the wedding and the reception afterwards, sharing their thoughts, commenting on the Mortals who had been there.

“Very well behaved,” Amarië said rather primly.

Finrod laughed. “Did you expect them to be swinging from the rafters, my love? Even in my day, the Mortals knew how to act in polite company.”

Those from Wiseman smirked. Arafinwë, drying a trencher, said in all seriousness, “Not like some Reborn I know.”

Finrod, Glorfindel and even Turgon obliged him by making rude noises and everyone else chuckled.

Amarië was blushing. “I only meant that they did not importune us. They are very informal in their manner with one another and with you who reside here. I was rather shocked when that Man came over and slapped you on the back and addressed you in such a familiar fashion, my husband.”

Finrod shrugged. “Zachary is a good friend and actually works as Glorfindel’s assistant at the college.” He paused in washing a goblet and gave his wife a merry look. “He used to be me.”

“What do you mean?” Amarië asked in confusion.

But it was Glorfindel who answered, handing a clean bowl to Olwë to dry. “He means that, as part of their personae as Elf Guides, the students at Elf Academy are given actual elvish names. We hold a lottery, drawing a student’s name and then drawing an elvish one. There are separate drawings for men and women. We instituted the lottery when we ourselves were students. The administrators of Elf Academy and the owners of the resorts wanted us to come up with elvish sounding names.”

Daeron snorted a laugh. “Some of the names our friends came up with were just ludicrous, so we decided to hold the lottery. Zach happened to pick Finrod as his nom d’Elf, as one of the students put it.”

“So are you saying that somewhere out there is a mortal child running around introducing himself as ‘Ingwë’?” the High King of the Eldar asked, looking both amused and appalled at the same time.

The Wiseman Elves all laughed. “It’s not as bad as you think, Ingwë,” Vorondur said. “They use the names only for a season and then we recycle them. We always have more names than there are students, so sometimes a person’s name doesn’t get chosen.”

“We also create names that parents might conceivably give a child since we don’t always have enough names of people we know to cover us,” Glorfindel said.

“At any rate, Zach was the first to pick Finrod as his elvish name,” Finrod said, “though I understand that two others have also used that name when acting as Elf Guides.” He shrugged as he handed the last of the goblets to Olwë to dry. “It’s rather amusing when you think about it.”

“And we don’t use every name,” Vorondur said. “Some names, like Fëanor or Eöl, are reserved. We just felt that the Mortals shouldn’t have to be saddled with names that are… tainted, I suppose you can say.”

“That you feel that you must withhold the names of any because of their history saddens and shames me,” Ingwë said.

“You shouldn’t feel that way, Uncle,” Finrod said. “When I learned about the lottery, I, too, was saddened at the names that had been withheld, but I understood why. Most of those names are associated with tragedy and Glorfindel was right to refuse to give those particular names to unsuspecting mortal children.”

“It would be the equivalent of a Mortal naming a child Adolf or Jezebel, the names of two very infamous people from their own history,” Daeron said.

“Hello the camp!”

Everyone stopped to see who had called and some were not surprised to see Alex sauntering across the field.

“Good morning,” Glorfindel called out, smiling. “What brings you here?”

Alex looked about, taking in what everyone was doing. “Gave the help their half-day, did we?” he asked.

“They’re out touring the town,” Glorfindel answered. “You want some coffee? There’s some in the green thermos. Help yourself.”

“Thanks, I’m good,” Alex said as he sat down next to Amarië.

“So what brings you out here?” Vorondur asked. “How’s Derek and how are you doing?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m okay. Derek wasn’t feeling too chipper this morning. I think he’s in more pain than he admits to. At any rate he is being happily babied by my mom and Andy. I needed some fresh air.”

“We missed Felicity yesterday,” Glorfindel said

“Yeah. She wanted to come to the wedding but a friend of hers who lives in Chandalar went into labor yesterday about a month earlier than expected so Felicity went out there to be with her and her husband. Apparently it’s been a rough pregnancy, so there’s been some concern about the baby, but I spoke with Felicity earlier this morning and mom and the baby are doing fine, though they had to put the kid on a ventilator to get him breathing. Christopher James MacAvoy. Five pounds, 5 ounces.”

The Elves all smiled. By now, the cleaning chores were done and everyone was now sitting in the pavilion.

“Well, that is good news,” Glorfindel said as he accepted a goblet of white wine from Finrod who was pouring. “So what are your plans for the summer? Will you be teaching? You should be winding up this semester, shouldn’t you?”

Alex nodded. “Final exams for my classes are this week and no, I won’t be teaching over the summer. In fact, I’ll be spending the summer in Fairbanks attending the university.”

“Oh?” Glorfindel said, glancing at Vorondur.

“Yes, oh,” Alex retorted with a grin. “Honestly, Loren, stop treating me as if I were a teenager or something. I’m a big boy and I can take care of myself. I need to take these classes and they’re not being offered online.”

“And you’re okay with this, Ron?”

Vorondur raised an eyebrow. “Whether I am or not is not your concern, Loren. Alex and I have made arrangements and I see no reason why he shouldn’t go to Fairbanks. It’ll be good for him to be just another student doing things students do.” He paused and gave them a knowing smile. “Besides, Felicity won’t be here either, so there’s no incentive for him hanging around.”

“Ah,” Glorfindel said. “I see.”

“I doubt it,” Alex said with a sneer, though he was blushing at the same time. “Now, can we change the subject?”

“Did your mother enjoy herself at the wedding?” Nimrodel asked before anyone else could speak.

“Yeah, she did. She cried. She always cries at weddings. I haven’t figured that one out. Why do people cry at weddings? Funerals, I can see, but really, weddings? It’s supposed to be a happy occasion.”

“There are tears of joy as well as sadness, child,” Galadriel said calmly as she stitched.

“Maybe,” Alex said with a shrug, clearly unconvinced. “Anyway, she asked me to thank you for inviting her, especially when she barely knows any of you.”

“Has she said anything about moving here?” Daeron asked.

“No, and I haven’t pressed. She knows the score and she’ll let me know what she’s decided when she’s decided.” He paused and gave them a conspiratorial smile. “I think she and Derek’s dad have got something going between them.”

“Oh?” Amroth said, looking amused. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Hey, it’s her life and Andy’s a great guy. He and Mom get along great together. If it leads to something more than mere friendship, more power to them both. Besides, I always wanted a brother and Derek is already my gwador.”

“Well, I hope it works out for all of you,” Glorfindel said sincerely, then he turned to Ingwë. “Why don’t we go back to Edhellond and I’ll show you around. We’ll plan to have a cookout in the woods, give your staff the night off as well.”

“Yes, I think that will work,” Ingwë said.

“Alex, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, but I need to stop at the store and then get on home. I’ll catch you all later.”

He stood, gave them an abbreviated bow and left. “Well, why don’t we finish our wine and be on our way?” Glorfindel suggested and ten minutes later the encampment was completely deserted, except for a single Maia who remained unclad, keeping watch.