Chapter 8 - Interlude in the Upper Tower

Glorfindel! Wake up at once!

Glorfindel did not wake up. Instead he deliberately rolled over and pulled the blankets closer about him as he sought to ignore the sputtering sounds of Elrond in his mind. It was not yet dawn, and he wished to sleep. He was tired. Life was insane here in the Great Wood, worse than ever he had imagined, and he simply wanted to rest. He would not listen to the belchings of this balrog Elrond before Anar had at least begun the day’s voyage.

WAKE UP, GLORFINDEL! If you do not, I shall send Galadriel in my place. Is that what you want?

Fine, I’m up! Are you happy? I didn’t get to sleep until well past midnight, because Orophin was having nightmares, no doubt brought on by the thought of Thranduil’s chambers being but two doors down from his own. Still, Elrond wants me up, and so I am up. I hope you don’t expect cheerful, Old Friend?  Glorfindel threw his long legs over the side of his bed, sat up abruptly and fumbled to light a candle. He glared at its pale light balefully.

Awake will do for the time. At least run your fingers through your hair though. You look a mess. Imladris has its image to think upon.

Glorfindel reached over and grabbed his comb and began to comb the tangled nests of his hair. He had never gotten the hang of elven stillness when he slept. Glorfindel was a burrower beneath blankets and a bed hog.

There! Are you happy? I have combed my hair for the sake of Imladris. Don’t even think about asking for plaits, Elrond. My fingers braid nothing until I have at least had some fruit juice.

You are grouchy first thing, aren’t you? Even Galadriel says "good morrow" when I seek her mind.

I just bet she does. They do that among the ever-courteous Galadhrim. From me, you will get "good morrow" when it IS morrow. ‘Tis still dark outside, Elrond. I have had to light a candle in case you have not noticed.

So you keep reminding me that it is dark. It seems a grievance with you, friend. Still, I give you good morrow, Glorfindel.

Glorfindel did but grunt and reach for an apple from the bowl on his table. He noted grumpily that someone had again eaten all the grapes.

What do you want, Elrond? You are an elf of method and do not haul yourself into my mind before dawn without a damn good reason. Spit it out."

Celeborn was concerned for his daughter’s safety and did think that I would make a good impression upon Galadriel if I checked on Tingalen. Galadriel’s been looking in that mirror again, and her heart misgave her I understand.

Well, for once the blipping mirror may be right. Have you no idea what has befallen us since we arrived?

Would I ask if I knew? Glorfindel, calm yourself. The damage is done. You are already awake, mellon nîn, so we may as well converse. Take another apple; they are small for one of your great height, and you will feel better once you have eaten. For I see that you are troubled.

Glorfindel bit into his second apple and did indeed begin to feel a certain contentment descend on him. He had always like fruit, particularly grapes.

It has been a nightmare, Elrond. You think Galadriel can get a bit crazy? Try Thranduil, and you will never again complain. Galadriel is a pussycat compared to this orc.

You call Legolas’ father an orc?

You are right. That is too mild. Army of Cave Trolls? The Witch King reborn? Pick your worst, Elrond, and you will have then but a pale imitation of Thranduil in the last week.  Again, Glorfindel bit into the apple. Do you know that he slit Gilúviel’s throat?  

He did WHAT?

Peace, Elrond, the young one lives yet, but it was touch and go for a time. And you always thought Galadriel’s reaction to your own betrothal was the worst that could happen to an elf!

Well, she did refuse to come out of the top of that tree for two weeks. Celebrían was quite upset. For that matter, so was Celeborn. He gets very grumpy if he has to sleep without his wife beside him. I have never understood that myself, but there it is. Did you know that he sat loyally beneath that damn tree for the entire two weeks, even when it did rain? It finally wore her down. A wise elf, Celeborn.

At least, she did not slit your throat with your own white knife! Of course, the kid was stupid enough to present his throat to his father at a bad moment. And give him the knife.

Glorfindel, you are giving me a headache. I have to report all this to Galadriel you know. Could I please hear the condensed version before Galadriel awakens and calls upon you herself? Celeborn has promised to keep her occupied, but I do not trust the Lady completely.

Elrond, if Celeborn is keeping her occupied, we have plenty of time. Trust me on that one. Still, I would rather not dwell on the details for they are not pleasant, especially as it is so EARLY.

Point taken, Glorfindel. What happened?

We all know that Gilúviel is the sweetest and most trusting elf that was ever born. I swear that, if he did not have the deeply suspicious Legolas as his brother, he would not have survived even until his coming of age. He actually had great faith that Thranduil would be overjoyed at the prospect of a short and, forgive me, rather plain mortal as his daughter-in-law. He insisted on confronting the mad one alone too, but Legolas followed him as usual. Gimli’s good sense must be a welcome relief for Legolas. I can see his attraction to the dwarf as a friend when I ponder his rather ethereal brother.

Thranduil was obviously not best pleased?

Glorfindel snorted. He slit the kid’s throat, Elrond, and pretty badly. The details are a little hazy as you can imagine, but Legolas thinks mayhap that his father only relented when Legolas took his brother’s bloody hand and kissed it in farewell. 

Good thinking on Legolas’ part. A tender and gallant farewell to a dying brother would stir Thranduil’s warrior heart as nothing else. This is not a good situation, Glorfindel.

Oh, it gets better. For five days, the kid was unconscious, and all of us were sure he had punched his ticket for Mandos. Thranduil could not be moved from the bedside and would not eat, Tingalen was besides herself with worry as you can imagine, and to top it off Legolas was stalking about muttering very unfilial threats as to what he would do to Thranduil if his brother died. It was not a happy family, Elrond.

What did happen next?

Gilúviel awoke and, being Gilúviel, he begged pardon of his father for the pain he had caused him. Not that that was an easy task mind you, what with a slit throat and all. I think at that point Tingalen almost lost it entirely, but she is Celeborn’s daughter after all and knows how to hold her tongue when she must. Of course, Gilúviel’s gentle spirit shamed Thranduil as it always does in the end if Gilúviel can but survive the process. Still we had the slight problem of Legolas breathing death threats to all who would listen. Orophin has been very upset by this. Being Haldir’s brother, he does not understand family discord.

Glorfindel! Orophin is usually upset by something. He is far too sensitive. It is a worry to Haldir and Rúmil as we all know. What happened about Legolas? Is he still breathing fire?

Nay, he is yet again a dove. Or, at least as dove-like as Legolas ever is. His mother came to him in a dream, and he hath forgiven his father and let go of his hatred.

His mother came to him in a dream? Has she ever done this before?

Not that he’s mentioned. Still, it was a pretty desperate situation. I have not heard from him of late, but somehow I sense Námo at work here. He is very fond of Legolas for some odd reason.

Aye, few know the tenderness of Námo’s judging heart if you get down to it. He’s loosened up considerably since the War.

He is not so lonely now with all the elves we lost because of that Abomination. By the way, how is the mapping for the journey to New Zealand coming along? Gil-Galad says the ship nears completion, and he is really getting sick of babysitting those fell maidens that have been dumped upon the Havens. I hear he chucked Aeglos at a few of them to get their attention as he waxed wroth at their behavior. Apparently, one of them made a pass at old Círdan if you can believe it. I had a nice newsy missive from Gildor Inglorion, who has been visiting there. Did you know Éowyn arrived here yesterday? She’s the only one here taking the situation calmly by the way. I guess after Denethor, even Thranduil might seem a piece of cake.

Galadriel mentioned it. Said she’d feel better if a shield maiden were involved at this end, and, as she is caught up in the New Zealand preparations and cannot come here herself, she thought Éowyn was a good choice. We have not too many shield maidens among our own people she says. Seems to be more of a Rohirric thing. Galadriel is a bit worried that Tingalen will be influenced by Éowyn’s lack of refinement in dress, for her new daughter’s lack of fashion sense is a concern to her already. Celebrían was never a worry to her on that score.

Celebrían had Celeborn for a father and Galadriel as a mother. We know what they can achieve by way of drop-dead clothing. Gimli still has not fully recovered from his first glimpse of Galadriel on what for her was no doubt just an ordinary day. Does anyone think Celebrían would NOT know how to dress? Even you, Elrond, admit that Galadriel can wear a frock with the best of them. The Valar only know what fell examples Tingalen had all her life.

True. So, Legolas is reconciled to Thranduil. That must be a relief to all.

It is, and it isn’t. It makes my life a whole lot simpler, if that ever can be said considering this mess in which I have ensnared myself. Aragorn is oblivious as always. Haldir is wary, but willing to work with Thranduil if he must. Rúmil would work with Sauron himself if it gave him a chance for his revenge. Orophin and Gimli are still problematic.

Orophin is having nightmares again?

Yes, we had thought them under control, but the unpleasantness of the throat slitting has apparently triggered them off yet again. Haldir will see to his brother though as he always has done. I do not greatly fear about Orophin. Gimli is another matter.

Gimli?

Gimli. As you can imagine, he was not a happy dwarf to know that Legolas would have been the next throat to be slit. Gimli has always had a problem with Thranduil after all, and this has not helped matters at all. Apparently, Legolas’ mother did not think to appear to a dwarf, and ours has been stomping about with his battle axe ever at the ready and refusing to let Legolas out of his sight. Legolas has even gone out tree-hugging in an attempt to annoy Gimli off his trail. Didn’t work. The dwarf said he’d hug trees if that was what it took to keep Legolas safe. I find the image quite delightful myself. The dwarf and his tree. What loyalty, Elrond! Would you hug a tree for me?

I may well hit you with a tree if you continue in this fey manner, Glorfindel. Get a grip! This is serious stuff here.

Ah, perhaps you are right. Anyway, Tingalen has ordered that one of us must stay with Thranduil at all times lest Gimli lose it entirely and smite him. She seems to think that would break Gilúviel’s heart. Probably would. That dark one does love his father for some odd reason. I have never really understood those that are not blond. Your pardon, Elrond, for you know that I do love you, but the thought patterns of dark elves are passing strange. I think, however, that our little maiden has had enough as it were.

Aye, poor child! She has indeed chosen a difficult family for her in-laws. I can share her sorrows on that score as well you know, my old friend.

Celeborn’s not so bad. He just refuses to acccept that not everyone is quite as fond of his Lady as he is. That is probably a good trait for a husband? Glorfindel had never married, and with each passing year he was more glad of this fact.

It has its appeal to a wife I should imagine. As everyone loved my Celebrían, I had not that problem.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrow delicately at this for he well remembered a few loud scenes among the servants of Imladris when Celebrían had felt that her Lord Elrond’s needs had not been properly addressed by his staff. Still, Glorfindel was a kind elf, and he did not mention this to his friend.

So, what should I tell Galadriel?

Tell her there was a bit of a problem, but nothing I can’t handle. Let me be very clear on that, dear Elrond. The Mad Witch of the Galadhrim is your problem until we sail, and I don’t want her here complicating things further for me. With Gil-Galad’s and Celeborn’s help, I’ll contain her on the voyage, but not one moment before will I assume this burden. Tell her also that Thranduil has been persuaded that the marriage of his son is a good thing. We shall probably have a small ceremony at the Havens e’er sailing. Gilúviel should be out of his bandages by then, and I am not, I repeat NOT, going on that voyage as chaperone to two very eager and yearning young ones who cannot keep their hands off each other. It is not healthy for them or for me. Gilúviel may be gentle, but I suspect even he has his limits, even if throat slitting by his own father is apparently not among them. He had to bathe in every cold river we could find between Imladris and this castle. It really was a problem at times. Therefore, they shall be married e’er we sail, or you shall be on board as well with your mother-in-law. Do I make myself clear, Elrond?

I will tell Celeborn. Mayhap he can persuade Galadriel to abandon her plans for the wedding being held in the Golden Wood upon their return. Celeborn is wise. He shall know how to accomplish this.

Good morrow, Elrond!

What?

Anar has now begun the day’s journey, and I bid you "good morrow"! Did you not seek that?

Aye, good morrow, Glorfindel!

So, if we are quite through, Elrond, I think I shall now go down to breakfast. I have had no sleep and less to eat, and I feel a strong desire for some grapes.

And with that, Glorfindel felt Elrond’s departure from his mind, for the old friends knew well the limits of their tolerance one for the other. Such things kept their friendship strong.