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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

120: Farewells

The meeting lasted until almost noon. Once Ingwë and the others from Valinor had outlined their own training regimen, including Galadriel describing the training by the healers under Lord Irmo to which Kyle Stoner paid particular attention, asking some very pertinent and pointed questions, Glorfindel explained what those of Wiseman had done or were doing, asking Gwyn and Gareth to describe their training program for Gwaith-en-Angbor.

“We based it on the regimen utilized by the Knights Templar and other such military orders of our acquaintance,” Gwyn said at one point.

“Knights Templar?” Dave Michaelson asked with interest. “Did you know any of them? Do you know what happened to their treasure? What was the real reason for their dissolution?”

“Why, David, I never knew you were into conspiracy theories,” Glorfindel drawled, giving the Mortal a knowing smile.

“I’m not,” Dave assured him with a tight smile. “I’ve always been interested in military history, though, especially the Crusades. A sort of hobby of mine, you might say.”

Gwyn and Gareth exchanged looks and shrugged at one another before turning their attention to Michaelson. “We knew some of the Knights Templars,” Gwyn said carefully. “As for their treasure, your guess is as good as ours. At the time Philip was having de Molay burned at the stake, Gareth and I were once again living in Wales and there were few Templars about.”

“Most of them had fled to Scotland, you see, after Edward seized their properties in England, along with the French Templars who managed to escape imprisonment,” Gareth went on to explain. “The Scottish king, Robert the Bruce, was under excommunication at the time so papal orders against the Templars were never promulgated there.”

“And that is all very interesting, but rather beside the point,” Glorfindel insisted.

“And what were you doing when all that with the Templars was going down?” Alex asked. “Enquiring minds want to know.”

“What I was doing seven hundred years ago is of no importance,” Glorfindel retorted.

“Maybe,” Alex allowed with a shrug, “but what might or might not have happened back then could happen today with little provocation. History, after all, has the dreary habit of repeating itself. The Templars, if I understand it, were arrogant and above themselves and became very powerful, making enemies and causing jealousies, so people trumped up charges against them and pretty much did them in. You don’t think something similar couldn’t happen here?”

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Gwyn said, “but your point is well taken, Alex. What happened the other night brings to mind that scene from Frankenstein with the villagers set on burning down the castle. I didn’t think that sort of thing could happen here, but it almost did.”

“And that is something we need to watch out for in the future,” Judge Harrison said.

“Well, getting back to our original discussion,” Glorfindel said, “are there any other questions you may have about Gwaith-en-Angbor and how it’s set up? We would like to do something similar here in Wiseman once the SCA group is up and running. We hope to have something in place before the end of summer.”

“I still don’t get how us training with swords and stuff out here in Nowheresville is going to prepare anyone for the Dagor Dagorath,” Derek said. “I mean, this is supposed to be a world-wide war, right? At least that’s what it sounds like. So, how are the five thousand or so people who live here going to make any difference to the outcome? If the Enemy attacks, it’s going to go after the major capitals of the world, like DC, London and Tokyo. It’s not going to bother with Wiseman. We’re barely a blip on our own maps, never mind the Enemy’s.”

“And yet, the Valar, who see further into the future than any of us, have seen fit to create the Army of Light here and not elsewhere,” Ingwë pointed out. “I agree that it seems improbable that the Enemy will bother with Wiseman, but that may be the point. While it is concentrating its efforts against your military might as well as ours in Valinor, ignoring you here, that may give you the opportunity to strike a blow from behind, so to speak, when the Enemy least expects it.”

At that, Elrond spoke up. “I once said that some things may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong and that such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere. Ingwë, I think, speaks truly with regards to our ultimate mission here.”

“Lord Námo told Gareth and me that we,” and here he gestured to all of them, “are the Valar’s secret weapon, and while he was specifically speaking about our being a source of estel to those of Aman who have fallen into despair, I think he also meant it literally in the military sense of the word.”

“So, our task, then, is to be as prepared as we can be to strike where we need to when the time comes,” Finrod summarized.

“Yes, I think that should be the focus,” Glorfindel said with a nod. “Remember, there is no guarantee that any of you Mortals will live to see the Dagor Dagorath commence. It may be the task of a later generation to do what must be done. If that is the case, then it is the duty of the Eldar to prepare your descendants for that day.”

“A rather sobering thought,” Kyle Stoner said musingly, “I mean, the idea that all of us alive today will be so much dust before this war ever commences.”

“Except we Elves will still be here to carry on,” Vorondur said quietly, “and that is our special burden to bear.”

“Well, it’s getting on noon and I know some of you have places to go, so why don’t we break here and arrange to get together one last time before Their Majesties leave?” Glorfindel suggested. “Will Monday be good for everyone, say at seven?”

There were nods all around and shortly thereafter the meeting broke up with Glorfindel and Finrod escorting the Mortals to the front door. Alex and Derek stayed behind to speak with Gwyn and Gareth for a few minutes.

“So when are you heading back to Fairbanks?” Alex asked them.

“Tomorrow,” Gwyn replied. “Now that Gareth and Nell’s betrothal contract has been agreed upon, we have no real reason to stay and we do have to get back to work.”

“I’ll be coming down during the Memorial Day weekend. Summer session begins on that Tuesday.”

“Where are you staying?” Gareth asked. “You’re welcome to stay with us if you’d like.”

“Thanks, but I’ve already reserved a dorm room,” Alex said. “Ron thinks that might be better for me as it will give me the chance to use my blending-in skills for a better reason than to infiltrate terrorist groups, or at least, that’s what he says.” He gave them a shrug and a lop-sided grin. “We’ll see.”

“Well, do not hesitate to come over to the house for a home-cooked meal and some adult conversation,” Gwyn said with a grin of his own.

Alex laughed, as did Derek.

“And you’re free to join us when we’re training with Gwaith-en-Angbor,” Gareth added. “I know you keep saying you have no plans to join the SCA and that’s fine, but you should at least get to know the guys and become familiar with how we do things, then when you come back here you can tell Loren and Finrod about it.”

“Yes, you can act as our liaison,” Gwyn said. “You have the necessary background in tactics and all so you would be able to explain things better than someone like Zach. He’s still too new at it to really know what’s what.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.”

“So what will you be doing while Alex is away, Derek?” Gwyn asked.

“Working, what else?”

“It’ll be a bit lonely for you, won’t it?” Gareth pointed out.

Derek shrugged. “Been there, done that, but I don’t mind. I may end up taking a room in Bettles and just coming back here on my days off. Haven’t decided yet.”

The four men spoke for a couple of minutes more about trivialities before Alex and Derek left, wishing the brothers a safe trip home. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,” Alex said in parting and then he and Derek went to speak with Glorfindel and Finrod, whom they found in the library. The kings and the others from Valinor were with them.

“I’m on medical leave for the next several weeks until my ribs have time to heal a bit,” Derek told them when Glorfindel asked how he was doing. “I’m not allowed to drive until June so I’ll go back to work the week after Memorial Day.” He then explained how he was thinking of taking rooms in Bettles but hadn’t made up his mind yet.

“Well, if you decide to stay in Wiseman instead and commute, feel free to come over here for dinner and conversation,” Glorfindel offered. Derek thanked him and then he and Alex left, promising to be at the meeting on Monday.

Once they were alone again, the Elves continued discussing the meeting and what they had accomplished. “If nothing else, it gave everyone the opportunity to put names to faces and get an idea of how everyone else thinks,” Glorfindel said at one point. “Monday’s meeting should be more tactical in nature, I think. Daeron is hoping to be strong enough to attend. I have my doubts, but we’ll see.”

“I was a bit confused as to why both the old and new mayors were present,” Olwë said. “Should only Robert Locke have attended?”

Glorfindel shook his head. “Harry is mayor for another two months until the Fourth of July, America’s Independence Day. That’s when Bob will be sworn in as the new mayor. The next couple of months will be transitional, but Harry still wields a lot of influence and is highly respected even by his enemies. He may be retiring from government, but he’ll still be active in the community, so having him sit in on these meetings only makes sense.”

“We need better communications between us,” Arafinwë said. “We need to be able to share intelligence in a timely manner.”

“Well, at the moment, our only option is to employ the Maiar as messengers,” Celeborn stated, “until we can come up with a better way.”

“If we had a palantír…” Elrond started to say and then shook his head. “That would not work either. There is only one left and it does not have the power to transmit thoughts and the knowledge of their construction was lost with Fëanor who created them.”

“We need something like Skype,” Olwë said with a nod.

The Elves from Wiseman chuckled. “Yes, Anatar,” Finrod said, “it would be helpful if Valinor were… um… wired, I believe is the word, but I do not see how it can be done.”

“Well, in my humble opinion, if the Valar wish for us to be in better communication with one another, they’ll have to come up with something,” Glorfindel insisted. “Why should we do all the work?”

“You are many things, yonya,” Arafinwë said with a laugh, “but humble is not one of them.”

“Though I think it is fair to say that he is humbler than he used to be,” Ingwë retorted with a straight face.

“Do you think so?” Olwë asked, looking doubtful. “Frankly, I don’t see it, myself.”

“I think he’s mellowed somewhat,” Galadriel said, giving Glorfindel a sly smile. “He’s not so… excitable.”

“You mean, brash and full of himself just because he’s a Reborn,” Celeborn added with a smile.

Glorfindel stared at them all for a moment, his eyes narrowing while everyone else stared back at him with innocent expressions. He turned to Finrod. “I think they’re ganging up on me. Why are they ganging up on me?”

“Because they can?” Finrod said with a lift of an eyebrow and an amused quirk of his lips.

“Oh, okay. Just wanted clarification,” Glorfindel shot back with a sniff. “If you will all excuse me, I will go see how lunch is coming along.” He exited the room with studied nonchalance and was halfway down the hall when he heard laughter break out behind him. He shook his head and smiled to himself as he went.

****

The rest of the week passed more or less uneventfully. Gwyn and Gareth left on Sunday after breakfast as planned, agreeing to sit in on Monday evening’s meeting via Skype. Gareth took with him his copy of the betrothal contract with promises to Nell to see her as often as possible during the summer. The two of them clung to one another while Gwyn stood with Mithrellas, speaking softly to her, the two of them exchanging kisses.

“You’ll be coming down next month, won’t you?” Gareth asked Nielluin. She nodded. “We’ll show you a grand time, then.” He bent down and kissed her and she kissed him back. Only the sound of Finrod clearing his throat separated them. They both sighed while everyone else looked on with various degrees of amusement and sympathy. Amarië hugged Nielluin, offering her some comfort as Finrod shook Gareth’s hand, wishing him and Gwyn a safe journey. Then the brothers were climbing into the car and were soon away.

“Cheer up, child,” Amarië said to Nielluin as they watched the brothers ride off. “You’ll be seeing him soon enough. Now, stop moping and come help me with the garden. It needs a bit of tending.” Nielluin allowed her aunt to lead her away while Finrod and Glorfindel exchanged amused smiles.

Daeron had wanted to attend the meeting on Monday but he was still feeling washed out and in fact was sound asleep with Melyanna watching over him before the first Mortals ever arrived. Not all who had been there for the meeting on Saturday were there for this meeting but those who were came away satisfied with what they had accomplished, comparing notes and deciding on how to coordinate their training and to what extent.

“There’s no way we can train those in Valinor in modern weaponry,” Glorfindel said at one point, “but perhaps we can obtain schematics for some of the weapons and send them to you. The Noldor might be able to work with them.”

That idea was agreed upon and Arafinwë stated he would speak to those among the Noldor who were known for their knowledge of weaponry. “They may have ideas of their own that we can utilize.”

Thus, the meeting ended on a high note. They still had no idea how to improve communications between them, but Ingwë promised to speak with the Elder King about possible solutions. “The Straight Road is still not open for travel back to Middle-earth, and possibly it cannot be, but we will need to figure out how to move troops, especially if the Enemy concentrates its attacks here rather than in Valinor. We will want to be able to come to your aid when and if that happens.”

After the meeting, Harry Whitman told the Elves that the people of Wiseman wished to hold a farewell picnic for them. “We were thinking Wednesday night,” he told them. “We’re going to hold it over at Steward Park around six.”

“We’ll be there,” Glorfindel assured him. “Thanks.”

And so, Wednesday evening, the Elves went to Steward Park where they were feted by the Mortals. Not all the Mortals attended, of course, just a small group of well-wishers. It escaped no one’s notice that the park was ringed by uniformed police, but there was no trouble from any quarter. The Wiseman Youth Orchestra entertained the gathering with selections from their past programs as well as a few from their upcoming concert. Those from Valinor were suitably impressed by the children’s playing and Ingwë praised them for their efforts.

“I wish there were a way that we could show you off to our people, to show them that children are a special gift from the One. Your parents and your instructors should be very proud of you for your accomplishments.”

The Mortals all beamed at that and everyone left in a good mood.

And then Thursday came, the Feast of the Ascension.

“And you will be ascending back into the heavens, at least for a while,” Glorfindel quipped as all the Elves gathered at the encampment for a final meal together. Glorfindel had arranged to have a couple of the college buses on hand to transport everyone to Wild Lake with Barahir and Eirien driving. They would leave around noon and plan to be at the lake before six. “And that’s more than enough time,” Glorfindel assured the kings.

Several Mortals were on hand to see them leave, wishing them a safe journey home. Among them were Alex and Derek and those involved with Elf Academy. The mayor-elect was also on hand, ceremoniously handing a gold key to Ingwë on behalf of Wiseman. “You will always be welcome, sir, you and your people,” the Mortal assured him and Ingwë thanked him, gravely taking the key as Glorfindel explained to him its significance.

The ride to Wild Lake was done in virtual silence as most of the Valinóreans gazed out the windows of the buses, watching the scenery go by, each of them lost in his or her own thoughts. Those who would remain in Wiseman, though, spent a little time speaking to the kings, as well as to Celeborn, Galadriel and Turgon, passing on messages to other family members in Aman or elsewhere in Valinor.

Glorfindel, sitting with Helyanwë beside him, noticed the pensive, troubled expression on the elleth’s face. “You’ll miss them, I know,” he said solicitously. “Have you no messages for your parents and grandparents? I’m sure they would love to hear from you, even if indirectly.”

The elleth looked at him, her features pale. “I will send them no messages because… because I will see them forthwith.”

Glorfindel gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

Others, overhearing them ceased their own conversations to listen. Finrod noticed that his sister had a knowing look, as if she already knew what was going to happen. He frowned slightly at that thought, then turned his attention to what Helyanwë was saying and when he realized the import of her words, he found he wasn’t all that surprised by them.

She would not look at Glorfindel directly as she spoke. “I have decided to return to Valinor,” she whispered.

For a moment, Glorfindel just sat there, staring at her. “When did you decide this?” he finally asked, looking perplexed with hurt in his eyes. “When were you going to tell me? Why did you not come to me earlier so we could discuss it?”

She looked up at that. “There was nothing to discuss,” she said firmly. “And when has there been time to tell you anything?”

“How long have you decided on this course?” Glorfindel asked instead of answering her question.

“Since Daeron was shot,” she answered.

Everyone automatically looked to where Daeron was sitting with Melyanna, still looking pale. He had insisted on coming and the healers allowed it, though reluctantly, but no one wished to remain behind; all wanted to be on hand when Eärendil arrived. It had been agreed that those from Wiseman would stay at the lake overnight instead of returning to the town immediately, so camping gear had been stowed on the bus, primarily for Daeron’s sake. He was likely to be the only Elf sleeping that night while everyone else spent the night singing under the stars.

Now Daeron paled even more. “Please do not blame me for your decision,” he said stiffly.

“I do not,” Helyanwë assured him. “I have been thinking about this for some time, ever since Their Majesties came and it was apparent that some who traveled with them intended to remain here. Your being shot was simply the last straw for me. I do not belong here. I should never have come, but Grandfather Sador wanted someone in the family to come since he could not. It should have been someone else.”

“What about us?” Glorfindel asked. “I thought things were getting better for us, at least, I’d hoped so.”

“I do not think it would have worked out,” Helyanwë replied, not quite looking at him.

“We will never know, will we?” Glorfindel retorted sadly.

“Please don’t hate me,” the elleth pleaded.

Glorfindel gave her a surprised look. “I don’t hate you, Helena. I wish you’d come to me before making a final decision.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to do anything right.”

“You are making the right decision now, child,” Galadriel interjected. “I have seen how unhappy you are and how much you miss your family. You would have done no one any good remaining here. Not all are suited for this kind of life.”

“And did you have anything to do with Helyanwë’s decision, Sister?” Finrod demanded.

Galadriel gave her brother a sniff. “I did not. I merely listened and assured her that she should not remain here out of a sense of duty to anyone, that no one is demanding of her to make that kind of sacrifice.”

“No, in that you are correct,” Finrod allowed. “Still, I agree with Glorfindel. It would have been better if you had told us this before so we could discuss it, not with any attempt to sway you from your course, but so we could be sure that you understood the consequences of your decision.”

“What consequences?” Helyanwë asked.

“Well, for one thing, it would seem you are no longer interested in pursuing a relationship with me,” Glorfindel replied with some pique. “I cannot very well court you if you’re not here to be courted, can I?”

“I don’t think it’s me you love,” Helyanwë said. “I think it’s my great-grandmother, Alassiel, whom you see when you look at me.”

“That’s not true! Oh sure, when I first saw you, you reminded me of her, but Alassiel and I have never been anything but friends. If I felt anything for her, it was adolescent infatuation, nothing more. It’s you I love, not your great-grandmother, and… and I thought you loved me.” The last was said softly.

“I think I was in love with the idea of being in love.” Helyanwë admitted. “I don’t know if I could love you enough to stay here with you. I don’t feel I belong here. I… I cannot seem to get comfortable here among Mortals, not to the degree that others have. I have no particular skills or talents that will be necessary for preparing for the war. I will be better off at home where I at least know my place in the scheme of things.”

“And everyone else’s,” Glorfindel said with a nod of understanding. He sighed, entwining his hand with Helyanwë’s while everyone else on the bus looked on with various degrees of sympathy. “I would try to change your mind, but I don’t think I would succeed,” he said after a moment or two. “I am sorry it’s come to this. I think we could have made it work, but perhaps not. I hope you do not paint too black a picture of your experiences here when you get back.”

Helyanwë shook her head but did not reply. Glorfindel nodded and silence reigned over them for the rest of the journey, no one daring to break in on Glorfindel’s thoughts, afraid he would take offense at what he would consider interference. The Twins, especially looked troubled, as did Daeron, but Elrond and Celebrían softly assured their sons that the former captain of Imladris’ guards would be well, and Vorondur spoke with Daeron, who ended up leaning against Melyanna and falling asleep.

The buses reached the lake around five or so and everyone got out, milling about, retrieving small satchels with personal items, mostly souvenirs from Wiseman. The bulk of their supplies had been sent on with the Maiar who started restoring the athletic field almost before the buses pulled out.

“When is Eärendil due to arrive?” Daeron asked as he allowed Glorfindel and Vardamir to help him descend from the bus.

“Not for a bit, according to Ingwë,” Glorfindel replied. “At least not until dark, but that’s several hours away.”

“I’m sorry about Helena,” Daeron said softly as he settled into a camp chair that someone had pulled out for him.

“Yeah, me too,” Glorfindel said just as softly, not looking at anyone. “I’m sure it’s for the best, at least, I keep telling myself that and maybe in a year or three I’ll actually believe it, but I wish she’d given me the chance to talk her out of it.”

“She’s been terribly unhappy and homesick almost from the start,” Melyanna said in a whisper as she came over with a blanket to put around Daeron. “I am not surprised she’s decided to return to Valinor.”

“What about you?” Glorfindel asked.

“Me? Why would I want to go back?” She bent down and gave Daeron a loving kiss on the lips which he returned, giving her a smile. She looked up at Glorfindel and Vardamir watching them in amusement and the smirk she gave them set them chuckling. Glorfindel moved away to speak with Ingwë, leaving the others to themselves only to be accosted by Turgon, asking if they could talk.

“Let’s take a walk along the shore,” Glorfindel suggested and Turgon fell into step with him.

They walked along the shore in companionable silence, moving well away from the impromptu camp, Glorfindel waiting for Turgon to say what he needed to say. It was a few minutes before Turgon finally spoke.

“Firstly, I am sorry about Helyanwë,” he said softly. “She is a foolish elleth to give you up so easily.”

Glorfindel merely shrugged, not in the mood to speak about it.

“As for us, I am sorry for that as well,” Turgon continued. “I watched you these past few days, especially during the confrontation with the Mortals and your concern for Daeron, as well as how you comported yourself during the summit meetings and I have come to a startling conclusion.”

“What’s that?”

“You belong here in a way I never could,” Turgon answered. “You have grown in ways I could never imagine, remembering how you were back in Gondolin. I fear I have been living too much in the past, wanting things to be how they were between us, but neither one of us is that ellon any longer.”

“You and I have come through the doors of death,” Glorfindel said. “That has changed us both, but in one thing nothing has changed.”

“What is that?”

Glorfindel halted, staring out across the still waters of the lake. “You still have my life, Turgon. You always will.”

“And yet—”

“And yet,” Glorfindel said with a nod, still not looking at the ellon standing beside him.

“I cannot release you from the oath even if I wished to,” Turgon said after a moment, “but this I can do.”

Glorfindel turned and gave him a quizzical look.

Turgon smiled, a smile Glorfindel well remembered from days gone by. “Lord Glorfindel, wouldst thou be my champion upon these shores, safeguarding all that we both hold dear for the sake of the love thou hast for me and mine?”

For a long moment, Glorfindel did not respond, but slowly, as if in a dream, he sank to his knees, holding out his hands, which Turgon took in his own, and there on the shores of a wilderness lake in Alaska, with the Brooks Mountain range standing sentinel around them, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower renewed his vows of fealty to the only king he would ever acknowledge.

And back at the camp, several people watched from a distance and nodded in satisfaction at what they saw. When the two ellyn returned, they noticed that Turgon seemed lighter of mien and more relaxed than he had been in a good long while. The brightness of Glorfindel’s eyes told them everything they needed to know. Wordlessly, Finrod gave him a hug and a kiss of benediction on his forehead while Ingwë, Arafinwë and Olwë looked on with approval.

The hours spent waiting for Eärendil were spent in quiet conversation with people making their final farewells to one another, though they all hoped that they would meet again sometime in the future.

“We will return for Nielluin’s wedding, if nothing else,” Celeborn said to Elrond and Celebrían who promised to keep an eye on her, though Nielluin insisted she was no elfling needing minding.

“Well, we do need to plan the wedding, don’t we?” Celebrían said with a smile and her sister reluctantly agreed.

The sun was slipping to the west when lookouts spied a flash of brightness in the sky and alerted the others. Those who had been wandering along the lake shore or in the nearby woods returned and watched as Eärendil brought Vingilot down. To everyone’s surprise, Lord Ulmo was with him.

“It will save time to ferry everyone back at once,” the Lord of Waters told them after greetings had been made. “I am here to facilitate the transfer. So, everyone who is returning, up you come.” He threw down a rope ladder.

People began hugging and kissing each other in farewell and then the Valinóreans began climbing into the ship, the support personnel going first while the royals waited to board last.

“Air Vingilot now boarding for Valinor,” Daeron was heard to quip. “Passengers, be sure to have your boarding passes ready to be checked.” There was general laughter among the Wiseman Elves who understood the reference. Lord Ulmo was seen to roll his eyes in amusement as he and Eärendil welcomed everyone aboard.

Glorfindel took Helyanwë aside before she joined those boarding. “Give Sador and Alassiel my love, will you?” he said softly.

She nodded mutely. He smiled at her gently, kissing her on the forehead in benediction. Then he fished something out of a pocket and placed it in her hand. “Here. It’s not much, but I’d like you to have it to remember me by.”

 “What is it?”

“An old Roman coin. See? It has the face of one of the emperors, Hadrian, actually. I’ve kept it with me for luck.”

“Why?”

“Long story and it’s too late to tell it now, but, I’ve always kept it with me wherever I’ve gone. Its only value is sentimental. I’d like you to keep it. Hopefully, when you look at it, you’ll remember the good times we had together instead of the bad.”

“Thank you.” She started sniffing. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anything for you.”

“Hey, it’s all right,” Glorfindel assured her, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a hug. She leaned into him, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed, giving her a kiss on the forehead before releasing her. “Let’s get you aboard. You don’t want them to leave without you.”

She gave him a weak smile as he led her to the ship and then she was climbing aboard. Turgon followed after, carrying the skateboard that Gwyn and Gareth had helped him to purchase before they returned to Fairbanks, with Galadriel and Celeborn right behind. Then Olwë came up, climbing the rope ladder nimbly and refusing any help to board. Arafinwë followed with Ingwë coming up last. Somehow, there was room for everyone aboard the ship, though no one, whether on the ground or aboard the ship, could figure out how. Lord Ulmo looked down upon those remaining behind, giving them a benevolent smile.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” he assured them even as Eärendil was giving orders to his three crewmen. Then Vingilot was rising into the darkening sky, the Silmaril shining like a miniature nova. People waved to one another until finally the ship was lost to sight.

Those at the lake began to drift away, quietly speaking to one another. Glorfindel remained where he was, staring up into the night sky where the stars began to blaze forth. Finrod, standing next to him with Amarië, put a hand on his gwador’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “It may well have been for the best,” he said quietly, “but I am sorry for your loss.”

“As am I,” Amarië said.

Glorfindel shrugged, his gaze still on the sky. “I’ll get over it,” he said, but he didn’t sound too convincing even to himself. Then he looked down. “C’mon. Let’s go see if we can entice Darren to eat something and then I think we’ll just head back to Wiseman instead of staying here for the night. I’m not in the mood for singing or anything else right now.”

“Are you sure?” Finrod asked. “Do you think Daeron will survive the trip back?”

“Him? Yeah. He’s tougher than he looks. Right now he’s milking the invalid card for all it’s worth.”

“And I’m enjoying every minute of it,” Daeron said with a grin as he came to them, arm-in-arm with Melyanna, who giggled. “You want to go back tonight?” he asked Glorfindel.

“If you’re up to it.”

“I had a feeling you would want to return to Wiseman straight away. I am sorry about Helena, mellon nîn.”

“Did you know what she was planning?”

“No, not really, but I suspected. She has been very unhappy, Loren, even before what happened between the two of you. Anna can tell you.” The elleth nodded her head in confirmation.

“Well, nothing to be done about it now,” Glorfindel said philosophically. “If you’re sure you can handle the trip back, I would like to leave now.”

“Yes, by all means, let us return to Wiseman and our friends,” Daeron said with a nod. “After all, we have a war to prepare for.”

“And a wedding,” Amarië said with a grin, looking to where Nielluin was speaking with Findalaurë, Elennen and Calandil.

“And babies,” Melyanna added, laughing, glancing at Nimrodel standing with Amroth as the two conversed with Vorondur, Ercassë and their two sons.

“And Elf Academy,” Glorfindel contributed.

“And the Fourth of July picnic,” Daeron reminded them.

“My begetting day celebration,” Finrod said primly.

They all looked at him. “Oh?” Glorfindel said with a lift of an eyebrow.

“It is as good a reason as any for looking forward to the future,” Finrod countered with a sniff.

“Well, we’ll get you some cake and ice cream and maybe I’ll buy you a small gift, but no brass bands or pony rides,” Glorfindel retorted.

“You are gift enough, gwador,” Finrod assured him sincerely, giving him a hug and a kiss on the forehead in benediction. “Do not ever doubt it.”

“Amen,” Daeron added fervently. “Now, let’s go home.”

So they did.

****

Note: Elrond is referring to his words at the Council of Elrond as recorded in the Red Book.

~Metta~





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