112: Confrontations

They arrived back at Edhellond to find that all the tours had returned and just about everyone was in the woods. Daeron had fired up the fire pit and was cooking the hot dogs and hamburgers on it, watching over it as he drank some beer. With him were the kings, also drinking beer. They all looked up when the three came out to the garden.

“You okay, mellon nîn?” Daeron asked worriedly, glancing at Finrod and Vorondur.

“Any beer left?” Glorfindel asked, refusing to answer.

Daeron gave him a searching look and the kings looked troubled, but all he said was, “Cooler to your left.”

Glorfindel nodded and went to the cooler, pulling out three bottles, handing two to Finrod and Vorondur. He twisted the cap and took a long pull before he found a seat next to Daeron. Finrod and Vorondur also found seats.

“So how did everyone like the tours?” Glorfindel asked and they understood that he would not be discussing his feelings with them. Arafinwë looked as if he wanted to pursue the topic but no one missed Ingwë stepping on his fellow king’s foot in warning.

“They seemed to enjoy themselves,” Daeron said, ignoring the byplay between the kings as he flipped over the burgers and tested the hot dogs for doneness. “Some of them even commented on how impressed they were by the easy manner in which their guides interacted with those Mortals whom they encountered and I found it interesting that the guide was as likely to be originally from Valinor as from Middle-earth.”

“Hmm, that is interesting,” Glorfindel said. “Do you think that means that certain people are finally getting a clue and acting accordingly?”

“One would hope that even the dimmest of us would eventually learn the lessons that have been thrust upon us since our arrival,” Finrod retorted with a wry smile.

Glorfindel grinned. “I’m assuming you’re speaking of yourself, gwador?”

Finrod’s answer was to drink some beer, but the look of amusement on his face told them everything they needed to know.

“I am glad to hear that,” Ingwë said. “I was somewhat disturbed by the reports I was given from Lord Manwë about what was happening here. I half expected to be told that there had been yet another kin slaying.”

Glorfindel was not the only one to give him a disbelieving look. Even Finrod appeared nonplused by the statement. “Honestly, Uncle,” he protested, “we are not barbarians. I admit there were times when I could have cheerfully murdered the entire lot of them and sing as I did so, but I was able to restrain myself. In fact, the one or two times anyone got even remotely violent, it took Mortals to bring order to the situation.”

All three kings gave them surprised looks.

“Let’s be honest, Finrod,” Vorondur said, looking chagrined. “He means when I attacked Eärnur.”

“And at the hospital when Glorfindel was in surgery,” Finrod insisted. “I am convinced that if it had not been for Charles, Josiah and Daniel, elven blood would have been spilt that night and I do not mean Glorfindel’s. Even so, the entire incident with Vardamir and Eärnur and their treatment of the Twins and what followed from that was the turning point for all of us, I think. When people began to realize just how close we came to losing Glorfindel because of the arrogance of others, that was our wake-up call as I believe you would say.”

“There are still areas of friction, though,” Vorondur said. “Look at the hullabaloo over Roy and Sarah changing their wedding date.”

“Well, I did not say we were instantly cured of our arrogance,” Finrod retorted with a grin, “only that we have begun to moderate it to some degree.” He turned to speak to the kings. “I think if you three were to return here a year from now, you will find it hard to be able to determine who among us came originally from Valinor; we will all be considered Wiseman Elves.”

“We can only hope,” Glorfindel said wryly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Daeron said. “Look how well the Three Amigos and Nell have integrated themselves, and the healers are now such fixtures at the hospital and the college clinic that no one thinks twice about it.”

“My sons are already asking about finding work here,” Vorondur put in. “Of course, Dar was once a sailor and a fisherman and Cani was a coppersmith so I have no idea what work they could do here without extensive training, but the fact that they are already wanting to be a part of the community is heartening.”

Daeron began flipping the burgers into a warming pan and added the hot dogs. “Here you go,” he said to Glorfindel. “You want to stick these in the oven so they stay warm while I put the next batch on?”

Glorfindel nodded and stood, grabbing the pan. “I’ll be right back.”

****

When Glorfindel returned with the empty pan a few minutes later, their conversation became more general, no one interested in speaking about the coming election or preparations for the Dagor Dagorath or anything of a serious nature. Arafinwë, in fact, amused them with a story about a disastrous trip to Vanyalondë to visit his grandson Lórindol and his family that had them all laughing.

“I was in Aewellond, visiting with Eärendil and Elwing,” Finrod said. “When I heard about it, I couldn’t believe it. Ammë was furious and wouldn’t speak to Atto for about a month except through court flunkies.” That set them all laughing again, though Arafinwë looked more embarrassed than anything.

“Serves you right, yonya,” Olwë said to his son-in-law with a malicious grin. “Even I’ve never been that stupid around my wife and Lirillë can give you plenty of examples of how stupid I can be.”

Eventually all the burgers and hot dogs were cooked and they carried the meat out to the woods along with the various salads. People greeted them cheerfully as they entered the clearing where a couple of tables had been set up for the food and soon everyone was serving themselves. A bonfire had been lit in spite of the fact that it was still daylight and relatively warm, but it was cheerful and later the Valinóreans were introduced to toasting marshmallows on sticks and having s’mores for dessert.

People wandered in and out of the clearing, enjoying the woods or sitting around the bonfire trading tales and songs as the evening progressed and the sun set. Ithil rose still in his fullness and the Elves rejoiced at the sight. Eventually, though, the kings and their entourage decided it was time to return to the encampment. Several of the servants had gone back an hour earlier to prepare breakfast for everyone else. Those from Wiseman cleaned up the clearing before heading back to the mansion, though a few remained in the woods. While people were putting things away in the kitchen, Vorondur quietly reminded Glorfindel about lunch. They had taken Vardamir and Elrond aside earlier when Amroth was not there, explaining the situation, and the ellyn had agreed to come as well.

“And then, after we deal with Amroth, maybe we can talk,” Glorfindel said as he finished drying a pan and hanging it on an overhead hook.

Vorondur gave him a searching look and then nodded. “I would like that.” He bade them good night, collected Ercassë and their sons, and left. Amroth and Nimrodel had left some time earlier pleading fatigue on Nimrodel’s part and Cennanion had offered them a ride home.

“Well, I think I’m going to sleep for a while,” Glorfindel said to no one in particular as he headed up the backstairs, leaving the others to their own devices.

He did not see the worry on Finrod’s face, nor did he hear Daeron’s sigh.

****

Glorfindel, Vardamir and Elrond showed up at the house on Evergreen just before noon. Finrod was with them, driving.

“I need all the practice I can get,” he explained as Vorondur greeted them at the door. “Do not concern yourself with me. I thought I would take Dar and Cani off your hands while you deal with Amroth. We will take a long walk and I will have them speak to me about their hopes and dreams. If they intend to remain in Wiseman, I will need to know more about them.”

“I’ll go fetch them. Loren, you know the way to the kitchen.”

Glorfindel nodded and headed for the kitchen; Vardamir and Elrond followed him. Finrod waited by the door while Vorondur went to find his sons, who apparently had been in the back yard working in the garden. They came in, their expressions partly wary, partly quizzical, giving Finrod proper bows when they saw him.

“Now, none of that,” Finrod said with a grin. “It may be fine to do such in Aman, but if you plan to live in Wiseman you must adopt the mortal custom of shaking hands when greeting someone.” And to show them, he thrust out his own hand. The two ellyn stared at it somewhat dubiously and Vorondur watched in amusement as Finrod explained what they were supposed to do. When they had both shaken the Elf prince’s hand, both of them looking decidedly uncomfortable at doing so, Vorondur bade them a pleasant walk.

“Come back in an hour or so,” he said to Finrod.

“If you are still dealing with Amroth when we come back, your sons can show me around the garden,” Finrod said as he herded Dar and Cani out the door, pointing to his left to indicate the direction they would go.

Vorondur closed the door and went to the kitchen where he found a minor rebellion going on. Amroth was glaring at Glorfindel while Nimrodel and Ercassë studiously ignored them, occupying themselves with putting the lunch together. Vardamir effected a bored look as he sat at the kitchen table idly playing with a paper napkin, while Elrond leaned against one of the counters, his arms and legs crossed, watching the argument with intense interest.

“…don’t need an intervention or a bunch of healers telling me to bend over,” Vorondur heard Amroth shout as he walked in.

“Yeah, well, that may be true, Amroth, but even I can see you’re barely hanging on,” Glorfindel shouted back. “What happens to Della or the babies if you collapse?”

“Why don’t we have lunch and discuss it like rational adults?” Vorondur suggested. “Shouting will get us nowhere.”

Amroth snarled at him. “Your doing, I take it, you interfering seren-en-orch!”

Both Ercassë and Nimrodel gasped in shock at the language. Vardamir raised an eyebrow and Elrond frowned in disapproval. Glorfindel’s expression became totally unreadable to any of them, which, Vorondur decided, was frightening in its own way. Vorondur attempted to present them with an air of graveness that he generally reserved for his counseling sessions, speaking softly.

“I will expect you to apologize to the ellith for your crudeness once you’ve calmed down, Amroth,” was all he said and the once king of Laurinand had the grace to look chagrined, muttering an apology and not looking at anyone.

“Let me help you with that, my dear,” Elrond said, picking up the soup tureen that Nimrodel was about to take to the dining table.

“Come, let us sit and enjoy this fine meal,” Vorondur said, gesturing toward the table. “We’ll discuss matters later.”

Vardamir stood and grabbed the plate of sandwiches that Ercassë had been putting together and the rest of them trooped into the dining room. Amroth tried to leave, not really interested in eating, but Glorfindel grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him to a chair and made him sit.

“Amroth, stop being a fool and sit,” Glorfindel said. “In spite of appearances, we’re all your friends. If we weren’t we wouldn’t be here badgering you.”

“I don’t need badgering. I just need to be left alone,” Amroth protested as he sat with a huff.

“And we’re just supposed to stand by and watch you collapse because you’re not taking care of yourself properly, are we?” Glorfindel retorted mildly as he took his own seat.

Before Amroth could counter him, Elrond spoke up, addressing himself to Vardamir as if the two were alone. “As soon as Celebrían and I are settled, I would like to begin working at the hospital. My sons would like me to be, what is that term, board certified?”

“Yes, it is a procedure that every doctor must go through in order to practice medicine,” Vardamir answered. “Apparently, it is designed to ensure the safety of the general public so that they are not harmed by people pretending to be doctors. Those who are board certified prove that they have received the proper training in the healing arts.”

“There are plenty of quacks out there,” Glorfindel said with a nod, “usually touting some new miracle cure, though the only miracle is that they don’t get caught soon enough and rob people of their money and their lives.”

“Doctors who have acted inappropriately toward their patients have lost their licenses and can no longer act as healers,” Vorondur added. “Such may even end up spending time in prison for their malfeasance.”

“Will you be living in Edhellond, then?” Ercassë asked Elrond.

“Celebrían and I would like to go with our sons to this New York City, but they both told us that that would not be possible.” He gave them a sardonic look. “I did not think I would ever live to see my children telling me what to do.”

They all chuckled at that. “It is better for you to stay here, Elrond,” Glorfindel said. “Roy and Dan have lived among Mortals for so long that they are quite capable of hiding their true natures. You do not have that ability.”

“It is just that, having been reunited with our sons after all this time, to be separated from them again is hard.”

“Separated physically, perhaps, but not entirely separated,” Amroth said, entering the conversation for the first time. “As the Mortals would say, you’re only a phone call away. You can speak to them every day if you wish. You can even see them by way of Skype. You can share each other’s lives even though over three thousand miles separate you. The miracle of modern technology and satellite communications.”

“Olwë wants the Valar to set up satellite communications so he can watch TV,” Glorfindel said with a grin.

Amroth actually laughed and the others grinned. “Is that even possible?” Nimrodel asked. “I mean, I really don’t understand all about this dimensional stuff anyway, so I’m not even sure how the Straight Road works or how Eärendil is able to cross the dimensional barriers, as I think it’s called.”

The others all shrugged. “You would have to ask Gil or Conan, I think,” Glorfindel said. “They’re the most techno-savvy among us. Maybe Tristan might be able to shed some light on the subject. He’s into that sort of thing anyway from what Gwyn and Gareth have told us. I doubt we could corner any of the Valar or Maiar and demand an explanation.”

“At least not one that made any sense,” Amroth said with a snort of amusement.

“That’s for sure,” Vorondur said with a chuckle. “I swear they live to be obtuse.”

“Amen,” Glorfindel said. “So, getting back to you wanting to become certified, Elrond, I think that’s an excellent idea. I hope eventually, all the healers will also become proficient in doing emergency medicine because that’s what will be needed once the war begins. We will need surgeons who can handle any kind of trauma. That’s why your sons have decided to go back East for further studies.”

“Yet, why so far?” Elrond asked. “Surely there are medical schools that are closer.”

“Oh yes, and quite competent in training people, but Roy and Dan have already gone through medical school and they decided to return to Columbia where they originally trained. I personally would have preferred that they remain, if not in Alaska, then at least on the West coast, but it was their decision and I respect it and them. They’ll be fine, Elrond, I promise. And perhaps, when they finish their studies and return, you can teach them what you learned under Lord Irmo’s tutelage.”

Elrond gave them a startled look, glancing at Vardamir. “But surely, you’ve been teaching them?” he said.

“Well, the fact of the matter is, they haven’t,” Glorfindel replied before Vardamir could. “I won’t bore you with the reasons why that is. I will just say that I think your sons would appreciate you teaching them what you’ve learned as Lord Irmo’s apprentice and I’m sure they will return the favor.”

“I would be glad to,” Elrond said. “It will be like old times when they used to follow me around, wide-eyed and eager. You remember?”

Glorfindel nodded, giving him a smile. “Oh yes, and the same was true with Estel. Arwen was not as eager to learn the healing arts as her brothers, but she was competent enough when it mattered.”

“Yes,” was Elrond’s only response, his expression one of pain, old and worn, but still there. Glorfindel reached over and placed a hand on his arm, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. Then he returned to his lunch, saying, “So, what exactly did Lord Irmo teach you that you didn’t already know? No one’s actually said and I’m curious, because I know what a master healer you were back in the day.”

And Elrond accepted the opening Glorfindel had given him, though he did not think Amroth suspected. He shrugged, his tone nonchalant. “Oh, well, it was more Lady Estë who taught me rather than Lord Irmo, mostly about aurae.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard about those,” Glorfindel said. “Can you actually see them, though? I’ve tried, but I can’t seem to get the knack. What do our aurae say about us?”

“People generally have a dominant color or perhaps two,” Elrond explained. “Aurae fluctuate depending on one’s mental, emotional, physical and spiritual states.”

“I was told my dominant colors are green and blue,” Glorfindel said, “though I never really understood why. I thought green was a healing color and I’m no more a healer than I am an orc and I certainly don’t have a green thumb. I stay well away from gardens except to admire them.”

Everyone chuckled, knowing the truth of his words. Elrond shook his head. “When I look at you, I do see green but it’s mixed up with blue and it’s hard to separate them. The combination speaks of loyalty, creativity, intuition and balance and I have always found that to be true for you even before I learned about aurae.”

“What about the rest of us?” Vorondur asked. “What do you see when you look at me?”

“Mostly purple, a sign of spirituality and psychic ability as well as having a philosophical bent and a love of learning. Surprisingly, though, I detect orange as well, which shows your compassion and empathy for others, a good trait, I suspect for someone in your profession.”

“What about me?” Nimrodel asked.

Elrond gave her a warm, tender smile. “You are a blaze of color, my dear, and it is multi-layered because of the triplets, I suspect. I see a great deal of sparkling white which is usually a sign of pregnancy, but mixed with it I see red and orange with hints of blue and purple, maybe even pink.”

“Pink!” more than one person exclaimed in surprise.

“Oh, yes,” Vardamir said with a chuckle, entering the discussion for the first time. “Pink can sometimes be found in aurae, especially in people who are feeling romantic or, if found in men, it is generally a sign that they are in touch with their feminine side, just as red in women tends to indicate that they are in touch with their masculine side. Reading aurae is as much an art as it is a science and one cannot rely on it exclusively for diagnostic purposes, but it is a useful tool.”

“So, what do you see when you look at me?” Amroth asked curiously.

Elrond frowned slightly. “What I see I do not like, my friend. I think normally your aura is predominantly yellow, a sign of intellectual curiosity and a love of life, but it’s muddy, almost brown in color and there are spots of black as well, which tells me that you are suffering from energy blockage and possibly you are feeling disconnected from your true nature. The black may not necessarily be a bad thing. Sometimes black aurae, while rare, indicate a protective cloak or energy shield.”

“How extensive is the brown?” Vorondur asked.

It was Vardamir who answered. “It is very extensive, turning the yellow into a sick, muddy color. Amroth, whether you recognize it or not, you are in danger of fading. You are allowing too much of your inner power to be drawn away by the children.”

“Yet, what can I do?” Amroth pleaded. “I cannot deny them my support.”

“Of course not,” Vardamir averred. “Elrond, surely you had a similar situation between you and Celebrían when she was carrying the Twins?”

“Yes, and being a healer did help me to monitor my own state. I was like you, Amroth, allowing more and more of my inner power to be drawn upon by my sons and I even had Vilya to back me up. I finally realized I was in danger of fading or simply dying.”

“What did you do?” Amroth asked.

“Well, I didn’t refuse the help of friends,” Elrond shot back. “When Glorfindel and Erestor saw what was happening, they both offered to take turns providing me with some of their own energy to supplement mine, and I was not so proud as not to accept their offers.”

“So you want me to go around asking people to lend me their energy for the next four months until the children are born? Do they take turns moving in? We’ll have to convert Ron’s office into another bedroom to do that.”

“Well, beside the fact that I need my office, you’re taking the wrong attitude, Amroth,” Vorondur said with a brittle smile. He turned to Nimrodel. “Manwen is your personal healer, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she and Laurendil both are, actually. They seem to complement one another’s healing abilities very well.”

“Then perhaps, Amroth, you would not mind having Laurendil be your healer as well, in consultation with Vardamir and Elrond.”

“We would need to do a complete work up on you, my friend,” Elrond said, “if you will allow it, so we can determine how extensive the energy drain is and how best to counter it.”

“But to have others lending me their energy… I just don’t know.”

“Think of it as something like a transfusion, or better, dialysis,” Vardamir said. “We need to filter out the muddy aspects of your energy and replace it with clean, vibrant energy and then maintain it. Remember, your children will be drawing upon you even after they are born and for many years. You need to be as healthy as you can be, or you will all suffer and none of us want that.”

“If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for our children,” Nimrodel pleaded, “and for me.”

Amroth sighed, closing his eyes, nodding. “Fine. I will do as you ask. When do we start?”

“No time like the present,” Vorondur said, “but we can certainly wait until we’ve finished with lunch. I’ll call Randall and have him and Manuela come over and you healers can discuss the matter in private with your patient. I’ll even let you use my office.”

Amroth gave him a wry look while the others chuckled. The tension that had been building during the conversation eased somewhat now that some kind of resolution had been reached and the rest of the lunch was spent discussing what they could do to keep the visitors from Valinor amused until it was time for them to leave.

Once they were done, Vorondur contacted Laurendil who promised to come right over as soon as he tracked down Manwen who apparently had gone shopping with Alphwen and Eirien. In the meantime, Finrod returned with Dar and Cani and they and Glorfindel spent some time admiring the garden. Ercassë brought out some lemonade for them, informing them that Laurendil had arrived with Manwen and Alphwen who had offered to give the two healers a ride.

“Everyone is crammed into Ron’s office,” she told them with a smile, “including Ron. I think I’m glad I never became a healer.”

The others chuckled at that. Half an hour later, the healers emerged from the office with Amroth, who looked better than they had seen him for some time.

“We gave him some of our own energy,” Vardamir explained when he joined them in the garden, “but it’s temporary at best. We need to set up a schedule for people to come and give Amroth their energy on a consistent basis and it’s strictly voluntary. I don’t want anyone who is reluctant to do this as there is a certain degree of… um… I suppose you could say, spiritual intimacy involved and not everyone can handle that.”

“Well, Erestor and I did it with Elrond, so we know what the score is. I’d be more than happy to volunteer.”

“As will I,” Finrod said. “How many people do you think will be needed?”

“Hopefully not too many, but enough so no one becomes completely drained, or that will defeat the purpose of all this. We’ll see how many are willing to do this. I think I will limit the volunteers to ellyn only simply because of the spiritual intimacy aspects. I do not wish any of the ellith to feel any embarrassment or discomfort. It is similar to being naked before another only more so.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Yes, that part of it was disconcerting at first, but after a while it became less so. I agree that we should limit it to just the ellyn. I don’t wish for Amroth to be embarrassed or Della to be jealous.”

The other ellyn gave him disbelieving looks while Glorfindel just grinned. They went back inside and after a few minutes of visiting and assuring themselves that Amroth was in good hands, Glorfindel and Finrod left along with Elrond and Vardamir, their mission accomplished.

****

Vanyalondë: (Quenya) Fair Haven, the main kingdom south of the Pelóri.

Seren-en-orch: (Sindarin) Orc-lover, considered one of the worst insults in Sindarin.