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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

111: Realizations

Glorfindel offered to give those who had yet to see Edhellond a brief tour when they arrived.

“You didn’t see anything last night except the media room,” he said to them, so they spent a few minutes wandering through the mansion, admiring the library, the council room, the kitchen and the sunroom with its view of the woods.

“We’ll plan to have a cookout there,” Glorfindel said. “There’s a clearing we use for that purpose.”

“Surely you do not have enough food for us all?” Ingwë asked.

“Oh, we’ll manage. It won’t be anything fancy, just hot dogs and hamburgers. We’ll whip up a potato salad and maybe a macaroni one or some baked beans. All good, old-fashioned mortal picnic food. And afterwards we’ll have some s’mores. You’ll love those. So if you want to help put dinner together, you’re more than welcome to join us in the kitchen or you can amuse yourselves as you wish. Go out to the woods if you want. The trees are most welcoming.”

In the end, Celeborn and Galadriel decided to visit the woods but the kings remained indoors. Olwë wanted to watch TV and Daeron spent a few minutes showing him how to use the remote. Soon, the king of the Teleri was happily watching a National Geographic program describing the latest findings in oceanography, which term Daeron had to explain.

“Even we Lindar have never explored the Sea in this manner,” Olwë said almost wistfully as he watched divers swimming with a school of colorful fish as a voice-over explained what was being shown. Daeron just smiled knowingly.

“If you need anything, you know where to find us,” he said and then joined the others in the kitchen where Ingwë and Arafinwë were sitting at the breakfast nook paring and cutting up potatoes. Only Glorfindel, Finrod and Vorondur were there. Nimrodel and Amroth had retired to their old room so Nimrodel could rest for a while with Amroth watching over her. Valandur had offered to take Turgon off their hands, for the Reborn had been showing signs of restlessness that they all recognized, and the two were in the library playing chess. Ercassë and Amarië were in the sunroom knitting and embroidering in peace.

Daeron looked around the kitchen to see what needed to be done. Glorfindel was throwing macaroni into a pot of boiling water while Vorondur was pulling out several packages of ground meat with the intention of making hamburger patties. Finrod looked to be helping him with that, so Daeron decided he would put together some baked beans.

The conversation among them remained general though at one point Arafinwë asked what the possible outcomes would be if the elections went against them and they spent a little time talking about the ramifications and what contingencies had been put in place.

“If we need to, we can be away from Wiseman within an hour and on our way to Fairbanks,” Glorfindel told them. “Gwyn has found us a place in Fairbanks that we are in the process of purchasing so we have somewhere to go if necessary. Even if Robert Locke wins the election, and we sincerely hope that will be the case, there will be other elections in later years and there are no guarantees.”

“Hopefully, though, as time goes on and we Elves become more integrated into this community, we won’t have to worry about having to leave under cover of darkness and hope we are not discovered along the way,” Vorondur said with a quirk of his lips.

“You speak as if from experience,” Ingwë said.

Vorondur nodded. “My wife and daughter and I fled in the middle of the night with little more than the clothes on our backs when it was obvious that Hitler would annex Austria where we were living at the time. We barely made it into Switzerland before the borders were closed.”

“And that probably wasn’t the first time you’ve had to do that, was it?” Glorfindel asked, more for Ingwë’s and Arafinwë’s benefit than for his own.

Vorondur shook his head. “Just the most recent,” he said.

“So it has been for us as well,” Daeron said, nodding at Glorfindel.

“Well, hopefully, we will not have to do so here, but I always try to have a back door available whenever possible,” Glorfindel said.

“Yet, would the Valar allow this,” Arafinwë asked, looking a bit disturbed, “especially after going to all this trouble in the first place?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “As Lord Námo would say, ‘free will rules all’, and that is something even the Valar cannot safely predict, especially with us, since they had nothing to do with our creation. But, we live in hope and do the best we can with what we have.”

Then Vorondur asked what preparations were being implemented in Valinor for the Dagor Dagorath and the kings spent some time outlining the various programs that had been instituted with Finrod adding his own observations of what he had been doing before he came to Wiseman.

“We still hold tournaments, though we have not held them every year for some time now. The last tournament was perhaps two yéni ago,” he told them.

“That’s a long time with no one fighting,” Glorfindel commented. “No wonder you’re all bored and uninterested in doing anything. I know I would be.”

“It has been a problem,” Finrod allowed. “As time went on, fewer and fewer people seemed interested in holding the tournaments, and even the All-Aman Council has only met thrice in the last, what, four yéni, more or less?” He looked to his atar for confirmation and Arafinwë nodded.

“That doesn’t bode well for any of us,” Glorfindel said with a frown as he checked the macaroni, giving it a stir and then began putting the cut potatoes into another large pot to cook. “At least, with us, once we get Winterhaven going, we can start developing our own training program and participating in various tournaments as well as holding our own.”

“You must explain that further,” Ingwë said. “I am not sure I understand what this… er… ess-cee-ay is all about.”

So Glorfindel and Daeron explained how Elladan, Elrohir and Serindë discovered Gwyn and Gareth and what came of it. “We now have our own SCA group, which is called Winterhaven, and at the moment only Mortals are involved,” Glorfindel said. “We Elves will not join until the group is firmly established. This way, the naysayers, like Tom Peterson, can’t accuse us of fomenting an elvish plot. At any rate, we’ll see how it goes. Nothing really can be decided one way or another until after the election. Until we know who will be mayor and who will be sitting on the town council, we have to walk carefully and try not to make too many waves.”

“Things are more dangerous than we were led to believe,” Ingwë commented. “I doubt I would have countenanced any of our people coming here if I had known how things stood.”

“Even if we were told the full truth, I would still have come,” Finrod said. “Yet, having lived here even for this short little while, I understand why the Valar were less than forthcoming with information about the state of affairs here. Nothing they said could adequately prepare us for what we found when we came.”

Before anyone else could comment, they heard the front door open and the sound of voices.

“Ah, I guess the tours are ending,” Glorfindel said with a grin as he left the kitchen and headed for the foyer. By previous arrangement it had been decided that everyone would meet back at Edhellond. A few minutes later he returned, followed by Gilvegil leading four others, two ellyn and two ellith, looking both shy and a bit stunned at seeing the royals calmly helping with food preparations.

“So what do you think of Wiseman?” Glorfindel asked, speaking Quenya as he went to drain the macaroni, for most of the servants were not fluent in English, knowing only a few phrases.

“Oh, it is… interesting,” one of the ellyn said.

“Only interesting?” Glorfindel retorted with a smile.

“It is so different from what we were expecting,” one of the ellyth said. “The Mortals we met were very friendly and they seemed to know Gilvegil well enough to stop and converse with him. But they did not bow or show any real sign of respect.”

“Well, no one bows to you, Eärillien,” the other elleth said with a laugh. “We’re the ones who do the bowing.”

“But we’re Firstborn, however low our status is,” Eärillien said with a sniff. “The Mortals should respect that.”

Gilvegil gave them a sardonic look. “That’s all they’ve talked about,” he said, speaking to Glorfindel more than to the others. “Why aren’t the Mortals more respectful? Why don’t they fall down and worship the ground we deign to walk on? Why did you shake that Man’s hand? And he called you Gil instead of properly addressing you as ‘my lord’. How dare he!” He snorted somewhat indelicately. “I’d forgotten how utterly arrogant some of us can be when we put our bloody minds to it.”

The four servants looked somewhat abashed at Gilvegil’s words. Glorfindel just sighed and shook his head while the others had expressions ranging from amusement (Vorondur) to frowns (Finrod). “Even your crew was never that bad,” Glorfindel said to Finrod, who nodded, then turned to the servants. “Well, my children, welcome to the wonderful world of living with Mortals. You about done with those potatoes, Ingwë? I’ll put the rest in to cook.”

“All done. Anything else we can help with?”

“No, I think we’ve got things under control. We’ll fire up the grill in another hour or so and begin cooking the meat. Is Olwë still glued to the TV? Well, we’ll leave him alone then. He’s happy where he is. I’m going to go out to the woods and see how things are there. Feel free to come along.”

“Er… what should we do, my lord?” one of the ellyn asked Ingwë.

“The day is yours to do as you please,” Ingwë responded. “You’ve all earned it. Return to the encampment if you wish. You and your fellows are welcome to join us in the woods for dinner. Lord Glorfindel and his people will be serving us.”

“There’s plenty for everyone,” Glorfindel said. “Tonight, rank does not rule; all are equal in status. For tonight, we are just Elves.”

Even as he was speaking they heard the front door open and soon more people were crowding into the kitchen. This group consisted of Findalaurë leading three ellith and two ellyn.

“How was the tour, yonya?” Finrod asked his son.

“Oh, it went well enough,” Findalaurë replied. “We stopped at the North Pole for ice cream,” he added, naming the shop where soft-serve ice cream could be had. “They wanted to try all the flavors.” He chuckled and the Wiseman Elves grinned. “I promised them we will go back so they can try some of the others.”

“We’ll have to plan to take everyone there for a treat,” Glorfindel said.

“Oh, and I saw Ranger Pettingill there with his kids,” Findalaurë added. “He asked me to tell you that anyone planning to join Ranger Lightfoot should meet him next Monday at seven for a meeting at the Gates of the Arctic visitor center. He’ll go over the itinerary and give out a list of supplies and such.”

Glorfindel nodded. “I’ll let everyone know. Thank you.”

“I wish I could join them,” Findalaurë said, looking wistful. “It sounds like fun.”

“Well, Denali isn’t that far from Fairbanks. We’ll plan to do a little camping there after we’ve toured the city, all right?”

“Cool,” Findalaurë said, speaking English instead of Quenya. Several eyebrows went up but Glorfindel noticed that the younger ellon did not blush or apologize for using the slang term and gave him an approving nod.

“Well, as soon as we get the salads put together and chilling in the fridge, I’m for retiring to the woods until it’s time to do the cooking. Someone want to check with Val and Turgon and see how they’re doing and Darren, go see if we can tear Olwë away from the TV before he becomes a boob-tube junkie.”

Daeron laughed. “I’ll look in on Val and Turgon along the way,” he said and left.

“Everyone else, clear out. We’ll give tours of the mansion later on after everyone’s here. Finda, you and Gil want to grab the cooler that is by the door? It’s loaded with drinks.”

The two ellyn nodded and began to herd their respective groups out the back door. Valandur and Turgon came in about then and followed the groups out. Daeron returned with Olwë in tow, the Lindaran complaining loudly that it was unfair for Mortals to have such wonderful toys to play with and why couldn’t he buy a TV and have the Valar arrange for him to get programs by satellite?

“They can create whole star systems out of nothing,” he groused, speaking in English. “You would think they could arrange for satellite TV.”

The Wiseman Elves all laughed. “I think we created a monster,” Vorondur said, standing to put trays of hamburger patties into the refrigerator and then washing his hands at the sink. “I’m going up to the sunroom and see how the ellith are doing and I’ll check in with Amroth, make sure Della is okay.” With that he left and soon the kitchen was empty except for Glorfindel, Finrod, Daeron and the three kings. Glorfindel offered to make tea for people and as other groups of touring Elves came through, the six ellyn sat around and enjoyed their tea and some scones that Daeron heated up. Vorondur came down a little while later with Ercassë and Amarië to find Dar and Cani there describing what they had seen, asking about the college and wondering if they could go there with Finda and the others.

“You will need to improve your English and learn how to function in this society,” Vorondur told them. “I will arrange for someone to tutor you through the summer and if you are diligent in your studies, I will see about enrolling you at the college for the autumn term.”

The two ellyn agreed to this and they and Ercassë headed out to the woods, though Vorondur lingered to speak with Glorfindel. Amarië remained as well, accepting a cup of tea from Finrod.

“Amroth and Della are fine where they are,” Vorondur told Glorfindel. “Amroth is reading and Della woke a while ago and is knitting. They’ll come out later. I don’t like the way Amroth is looking though. He was peaked and was somewhat listless. I’m going to ask Vardamir to do a full work up on him. He may be suffering from a deficiency of some kind that is depleting his energy more than it should. Supporting one child is hard enough, but three at a time has to be brutal. I’ll consult with Elrond as well. He had to support Celebrían while she was carrying the Twins, so he may have some insight on how to help.”

“If you can convince Amroth to cooperate,” Glorfindel said. “Is he in any danger of collapsing?”

“That’s what I hope to avoid,” Vorondur said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Glorfindel said. “You, Mir and Elrond and I will sit down with Amroth and Della. She’ll support us and bully Amroth into cooperating.”

“Let’s not delay too long, though,” Vorondur said. “I really don’t like the way he looks.”

“Tomorrow, then. I’ll bring Mir and Elrond over in the morning.”

“Plan to come for lunch, as I have a morning appointment. I think discussing it over a meal will be less threatening for him.”

Glorfindel just nodded and Vorondur left.

“I thought Amroth looked a little off today,” Daeron said worriedly.

“It hasn’t been an easy time for him, what between Della and the babies and then that whole thing with Farrell,” Glorfindel averred, “and then you lot show up and don’t think I haven’t noticed the looks of disapproval from some whenever they see Della. I’m sure Amroth has noticed as well.”

“Any disapproval is from the younger generations,” Ingwë said. “I had hoped that news of the pregnancy would be greeted with joy but that does not seem to be the case.”

“Well, frankly, I don’t care,” Glorfindel said somewhat heatedly. “I have enough to deal with without worrying about what the folks back in Aman think about anything. They have no right to pass judgment on any of us and if they’re that uncaring, then they deserve whatever they get.” He turned away and checked the potatoes, deciding they were done enough and turned the fire off and went to drain them. No one said anything, all of them watching him at the sink. When the water was drained out, he replaced the pot on the stove.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said, not looking at anyone. “Someone else can put the potato salad together.” Without another word or a backward glance he stalked out of the kitchen and up the hall. Seconds later, they heard the front door slam. An awkward silence ensued, the kings looking pensive, Finrod and Daeron looking sad.

“Should we go after him?” Olwë asked hesitantly.

 “I do not think that would be a good idea,” Arafinwë said.

“Yet, the last time he stormed out of the house…” Daeron said, leaving the thought unfinished.

Finrod sighed and stood up from the stool he had been sitting on while helping Vorondur make hamburger patties. Amarië, sitting next to him, kept hold of his hand. “Darren, find Ron and tell him what has happened. I will go after Loren.”

Daeron gave him a considering look. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call me or Glorfindel by our mortal names.”

Finrod shrugged and bent down to kiss Amarië on the lips. “I will return, my love.”

Amarië just nodded and let him go. He headed toward the foyer.

“Keep an eye on the beans, will you?” Daeron said to the kings. “They’re about ready to come out. When the timer goes off, just turn this dial all the way to the right, then take the beans out and place them here on the trivet. Here are mitts so you don’t burn yourself.” With that, he went out the back door leaving the three kings and Amarië staring at one another.

****

Finrod got to the street and looked about, hoping to catch sight of his gwador, but there was no one. “And not even tracks to follow,” he said to himself, staring down at the smooth sidewalk. Well, he had to decide which direction Glorfindel would have gone in his anger: right toward the town center or left toward the college. Then he remembered the small woods that bordered the college on the other side of the athletic field. It was as good a place as any to start looking. Now, how to alert Vorondur as to which direction he had taken in pursuit of Glorfindel. He looked around for some inspiration, chafing at the delay. Then he remembered something Glorfindel had done when they needed a message sent to Lórien and chuckled to himself.

“If any Maiar are about, would you be so kind as to inform Lord Vorondur that I’ve gone that way?” he called out and pointed to the left. “Thank you.” Having done all he could, he set off, hoping that he was correct in his understanding of his heart-brother. The thought that Glorfindel might repeat the disaster that had almost led to his death left him cold, but his gwador, however angry, would not be so foolish. He had to believe that.

Yet, as he approached the woods, he had to wonder. He was not as skilled in certain arts as Glorfindel was, but even he was capable of detecting the presence of Elves when they were in his vicinity, yet the woods felt… empty. He stood just outside them, staring in, suddenly indecisive.

“Glorfindel!” he called. “Gwador!” But there was nothing. He muttered an oath and entered the woods proper. The trees greeted him and he returned their greeting with a polite one of his own, asking if someone had passed through just now, but the trees assured him that none had come since the night before. Still, he wasn’t about to take what the trees said at face value and set out to find the center of the woods.

It was empty of Glorfindel. His gwador had not come here. Now, thoroughly alarmed and angry, he flitted back out of the woods and stopped, wondering what he should do next.

Elf Academy.

Perhaps his gwador had gone there. The building was closed, but Glorfindel would have keys on him. It was worth a shot and if he wasn’t there then he would continue into town and hope to run into someone who might have seen him.

He walked along, following the same path he and Fionwë had taken that one day when he had come to the woods and then ended up at Elf Academy. Thinking of that, he paused before the Interfaith Chapel, remembering his first introduction to the concept of Mortal worship of the One. On impulse, he tried the doors and was pleasantly surprised to find that they opened, and then remembered that the doors were always open during the day so students and teachers could come in and meditate and commune with Eru if they wished.

Inside, the sanctuary was light and airy. There was a sense of calm and peace that hit him almost immediately and he felt some of the tension he’d been feeling ebb away, leaving him feeling slightly lightheaded. Looking about, he saw Glorfindel sitting in a pew up front and walked silently up the aisle, sliding into the pew beside his gwador, not looking at him, keeping his eyes on the stained-glass window before him.

“How did you find me?” Glorfindel asked quietly, not looking at him.

“I went to the woods but you were not there so I thought to look for you at Elf Academy,” Finrod answered, keeping his own eyes forward. “Only, when I came this far, something told me to stop and go inside. I did not expect to find you here, Brother.”

Glorfindel shrugged. “As good a place as any for thinking.”

“And what have you been thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking I would like to just leave Wiseman and everything and never look back.”

“Return to Aman, you mean?”

Glorfindel shook his head, still not looking at him. “There is nothing there for me, not even my parents. They are happier without me. In spite of us all having passed through Mandos, there is just too much history between us and I was never completely comfortable with them. I think they were relieved to see me go. No, my life is here, but I weary of all this.” He gestured with his right hand as if to encompass all that was before him.

“What would you like to do instead?” Finrod asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Seriously? I would like nothing better than to buy a one-way ticket to paradise and spend the rest of my days lying on a beach, drinking piña coladas and watching the waves roll in.”

“Sounds boring,” Finrod commented with a smile.

Glorfindel snorted, though whether in agreement or not was debatable. Silence fell between them for several minutes before Glorfindel spoke again.

“I’ve… I’ve been having bad dreams lately,” he said quietly.

Finrod finally looked at him, feeling concerned. “How bad?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “Bad enough. Nothing I can actually describe. I’ve just been waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, feeling as if I’ve been running for a very long time and whatever’s been chasing me is not far behind.”

“How long have you been having these dreams?”

“Off and on since my… my mugging.” Glorfindel absently rubbed his right wrist now innocent of any scar, but the memory of having his wrists slit was obviously still with him. “I’m just assuming that it’s anxiety, but the dreams have come more frequently of late.”

“Have you spoken to Ron about this?”

Now Glorfindel actually looked at him, giving him a sardonic smile. “If we all keep running to Ron over every little thing, the poor guy’s not going to have time to breathe. I promise, if I think the dreams are affecting me adversely, I will speak to Ron about them, but right now, all I really want to do is to get through the next couple of weeks without someone dying.”

“Surely it will not come to that,” Finrod said, feeling somewhat alarmed.

Glorfindel cast him a wry smile. “Only if you promise to hold me back before I take a swing at someone.”

“Ah…” Finrod said, understanding what his gwador meant, and gave him his own smile. “Only if you do the same for me.”

Now Glorfindel chuckled and his mood seemed to lighten.

“Ah, there you are.”

The two ellyn turned to see Vorondur strolling up the aisle toward them.

“How did you know where to find us?” Glorfindel asked.

Vorondur smiled widely. “Well, the glowing arrow in the sky pointing right at this place might have been a clue.”

“WHAT?!” Finrod and Glorfindel shouted almost at the same time.

Vorondur laughed. “No, seriously. I came out to the street and there was this glowing arrow pointing toward the college. I followed it and it led me here.” He gave them a sly look. “Hoc signo invenies.”

Glorfindel laughed and it was one of pure joy.

“What’s so funny?” Finrod demanded in confusion. “What did you say?”

“Come on,” Glorfindel said, getting himself under control. He stood and Finrod joined him. “Let’s get back to Edhellond and I’ll try to explain.”

Vorondur put a hand out, giving Glorfindel a searching look. “Are you going to be okay?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “Probably.” And he refused to say more, not quite looking at him.

Vorondur nodded. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Thanks, Ron. I appreciate it, truly. Now, let’s get out of here. We have a cookout to go to.”

When they got outside, they all automatically looked up, but there was no sign of any glowing arrow. Finrod explained how he had taken a page from Glorfindel’s book, leaving a message to any passing Maia.

Both Glorfindel and Vorondur shook their heads. “Those Maiar are having way too much fun,” Vorondur opined.

“Tell me about it,” Glorfindel retorted as they continued on their way.

****

Hoc signo invenies: (Latin) ‘In this sign you will find’; a play on words; the original phrase is Hoc signo vinces ‘In this sign you will conquer’.





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