13: iAndondi Entulessëo

When the summons reached Finrod, he was sitting in Arafinwë's court, listening to petitions. His atar had begun giving him greater responsibility in that regard after his talk with Lord Námo. At first Finrod had been reluctant and uncertain that he would be up to the task, but his amillë had given him encouragement and his atar had given him his orders. Now, he found that the memories of his days as King of Nargothrond helped. The elves who came to him, mostly common people with minor problems, found him wise in judgment and Arafinwë was well-pleased.

He was finishing up a minor dispute between two farmers when the door of the audience chamber opened and a guard came in and bowed.

"Yes, Calandil, what is it?"

"My lord, this message has just arrived for you," the guard said and handed Finrod a piece of parchment.

Finrod thanked the guard and dismissed him, examining the missive as he did. It was a single sheet of parchment folded over once with a seal of the Sun-in-Eclipse embedded in black wax. He felt himself trembling at the sight of the seal, so well known to him. Breaking it he began to read, unaware that he stood, his face going white. On the plain parchment, written in elegant Sindarin tengwar were two short sentences:

Tolo hi. Mellon gîn anglenna in Ennyn Aderthad.

It was signed simply: Námo.

Finrod closed his eyes.

"My lord, is there something amiss?" one of his attendants asked worriedly.

Finrod opened his eyes and all there could see the tears but his eyes shone not with sorrow, as they feared, but with joy, inexpressible and beyond endurance, for those who looked upon the firstborn son of the King of the Noldor were forced to look away, so bright was the Light of his Being.

"Nay," Finrod said, attempting to sound calm. "There is naught amiss. I fear I must leave now. Please forgive me." Finrod stepped down from the dais and walked decorously towards the door but as soon as he was in the corridor he began to run, heedless of what others might think. He made his way towards the family apartments where he knew his atar was in his study meeting with his advisors.

Arafinwë looked up in annoyance when the door to his study slammed opened but his expression turned quickly to alarm when he saw his son running in shouting, "He's coming, he's coming, he's coming, he's..."

"Findaráto! What has happened?" Arafinwë grabbed his son by his shoulders and shook him.

Finrod stopped his shouting and taking a deep breath he thrust the missive into his atar's hands. The King of the Noldor in Aman looked at the seal and his eyes widened in recognition. He glanced at the words but could not read them and was loath to admit it in front of his advisors, but...

"I cannot..."

"Á tulë si. Meldotya anatulë iAndondi Entulessëo," Finrod translated in a rush without thinking and then stopped, suddenly aware that he and his atar were not alone.

"I see," Arafinwë said somewhat wryly. "And the signature?"

"L-lord Námo," Finrod said more quietly.

Several eyebrows rose at that. One of the advisors turned to Finrod with a supercilious look. "And who is it that comes that the Lord of Mandos would deign to inform you, Prince? I cannot imagine why Lord Námo would even bother."

Finrod looked nonplused and was not sure how to respond, but his atar saved him the trouble. Arafinwë turned to the elf with a scowl. "I do not question Lord Námo's motives in this or anything else, Pelendur. Please keep your opinions on the matter to yourself."

Pelendur looked suitably chastened but Finrod was not paying any attention. He could only think of one thing.

"It's Glorfindel, Atar. I have to go to him. I have to leave now."

"Glorfindel?" another advisor asked in distain. "An odd-sounding name. Was he one of those, what do they call themselves, Sindar? I can't imagine one of the Noldor having such a strange name. I would think, my prince, that now that you have returned to us where you belong you would have severed your ties with these... Moriquendi."

Finrod was stunned, tears beginning to form. He had never realized that some of his atar's own advisors looked down upon the Sindar with such contempt. He, himself, when he first met his sundered kin, had found them industrious and brave, loyal and deserving of every respect. Four of the ten Companions who had followed him and Beren had been Sindar. They had died in agony yet had never revealed their lord's secret to Sauron, as loyal as the Noldor who had died beside them. He honored their memory and looked forward to the day when they were released from Mandos so he could show them his gratitude and ask for their forgiveness for leading them to their deaths.

Arafinwë sighed as he looked upon his firstborn struggling to retain his composure. Findaráto had come a long way since his conversation with the Lord of Mandos and he had begun to take his responsibilities more seriously, but there were still times when he seemed younger than he had been even as an elfling. He was not entirely sure he wanted this Glorfindel as a friend for his son but he knew that such things were best left to themselves. Findaráto would never abandon his loyalties once given, not even if Arafinwë ordered him to.

He put a comforting hand on his sons shoulder. "Why don't we go together then, yonya? I would like to meet your friend myself."

The look on his advisors faces was worth that small concession and the smile on his son's face was priceless.

****

In the end, the entire royal family decided to accompany Finrod to Lórien. Finrod wasn't sure he liked that but said nothing. His amillë, he did not mind, but Amarië... He still found it difficult to think of her as his betrothed. He remembered her, of course, and their love, but much of the emotional content of his former life had been stripped from him. Amarië had been understanding, or so she said, but Finrod was not so sure. They had agreed to give him more time to get reacquainted with life in Aman before speaking of marriage. Amarië had waited all this time, she could wait a little longer as far as Finrod was concerned.

Now the four of them were before the Gates of Return, wrapped in cloaks to ward off the gentle rain that was falling that day. They stood with several other families whose loved-ones were to be released. They were a little in awe of Arafinwë and Eärwen, but the royal couple soon put them at ease, asking after their families and congratulating them on the release of their kin.

"Do you also await for one of your family, my lord?" asked one of the elves waiting for a granddaughter he had never met, for she had been born in Endórë.

"Nay, good Valandil," the King said. "We are here for my son's sake. He comes to greet a friend."

"Oh, someone from his... when he lived in Endórë?"

Arafinwë shook his head, feeling almost amused. "I understand they met in Mandos."

There was nothing that could be said to that and Arafinwë shortly took his leave to rejoin his own family. Finrod stood there impatiently.

"Patience, Findaráto," Amarië said somewhat tartly. "Its not as if this Laurefindil were family. Would you feel this impatient if Aicanáro or Angaráto were being released?"

Finrod stared at the elleth in consternation. "His name is Glorfindel and he is as a brother to me, more so than Aegnor or Angrod ever were."

Amarië looked as if she'd been slapped in the face and Finrod instantly regretted his words but knew them to be true. He had trouble picturing his brothers or having any familial feelings towards them. Interestingly enough, he did not have that problem where his beloved sister, Galadriel, was concerned. He had hoped she would have returned to Aman after the War of Wrath, but understood why she didn't. He remembered some of the scandal her marriage to Celeborn had caused among the Noldor-in-Exile, but he had welcomed the Prince of Doriath as a brother and had nothing but fond memories of him. He hoped that they were well and content and sent a silent prayer to the Valar that it be so.

"I'm sorry, Amarië, that was thoughtless of me," Finrod finally said and Amarië nodded her acceptance of his apology but did not apologize in return, which Arafinwë, having overheard their conversation, found telling.

At that moment someone exclaimed, "Look! The Gates are opening."

Finrod turned to see the Gates swinging open of their own accord. It was a peculiarity of these Gates that looking through them one could only see a dense fog. He remembered that the fog had appeared on the other side of the Gates when he was walking through them but not on his side. He did not know why that was, and it intrigued him.

There was an expectant hush as the first dim figure was seen emerging from the fog. Finrod let go of a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding, disappointment filling him. It was not Glorfindel. It wasn't even an ellon, but an elleth, who stood hesitantly at the Gates, a pitiful bundle in her arms. One couple stepped out of the crowd and spoke quietly to the elleth. Finrod could not hear what the couple said, but he saw the elleth's eyes widen and then she flung her arms around them. They returned her embrace with fierce hugs of their own, their joy evident to all who were there.

"Their granddaughter, I take it," Arafinwë said quietly to Finrod and his son smiled, pleased that a family had been reunited.

Soon others began to emerge from the fog to be greeted joyfully by their kin. Some of the families began to leave, eager to be gone, but a few lingered, curious as to why the royal family was there. Finrod was beside himself with worry.

"Why isn't he here? Atar, could Lord Irmo have changed his mind?"

"Nay, yonya," Arafinwë placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "Your friend will come, never fear."

Eärwen kissed him and smiled. "I'm sure Glorfindel will be along presently, my dear. You've been so good, wait just a little longer."

Finrod smiled at his amillë, grateful beyond words that she called his friend by his "right" name instead of trying to mangle it into Quenya. He ignored Amarië's sigh. Just then, two more figures began to emerge from the fog. Finrod felt confused, for no other families were waiting for a loved-one; only the royal family had not yet greeted anyone. He stared into the fog, willing his eyes to pierce the mist to see who came and then...

"GLORFI!"

"FINROD!"

They were running towards each other, the joy on their faces flaring in brightness to rival the light of Anar, heedless of anyone or anything but each other. They met and grasped hands and, laughing, flung each other about in a dance of pure delight that left the onlookers breathless, and not a few looked on in disapproval. The rain suddenly ceased and the clouds rolled back. Anar shone upon the two ellyn and a multitude of rainbows formed around them, though neither noticed. They had eyes only for each other and they danced with complete abandonment until they suddenly collapsed laughing onto the ground in a heap, mindless of the wet grass staining their clothes as they tumbled about. Slowly the rainbows melted as clouds hid the Sun again. Finrod and Glorfindel lay breathless on the ground, their arms wrapped around each other.

"I've waited so long," Finrod whispered as he stroked Glorfindel's hair.

"No longer than I have," Glorfindel laughed and gave his friend a shove. "Now get off me, you overgrown elfling, people will talk."

"People will talk anyway, so we might as well give them something to talk about," Finrod retorted, then smiled. "Welcome home, my brother."

"Ahem."

The ellyn looked up to see Arafinwë staring down at them with a look that alternated between annoyance and amusement.

"Perhaps you would care to introduce me to your friend, Findaráto."

Finrod and Glorfindel scrambled to their feet, half-heartedly trying to straighten their clothes and brushing the grass from their cloaks and hair.

"Sorry, Atar. Glorfindel this is my atar, Arafinwë."

Arafinwë raised an amused eyebrow at his son's cavalier introduction. "Sometimes known as the King of the Noldor," he said with a wink at Glorfindel, "but who cares?"

Glorfindel could only laugh. "Who cares, indeed, my lord?" He gave the king a respectful bow, placing his right hand over his heart. "I am pleased to finally meet the atar of my friend. He does you credit, my lord, and I am proud and humbled that he would befriend me in turn."

Arafinwë looked upon the golden-haired elf with approval. There was no subservience in the elf's attitude. His eyes were clear, clearer than most, the Light of the Two Trees evident. He held himself with simple dignity and Arafinwë suddenly saw his own son in a different light, for that same dignity could be seen in Findaráto, hidden underneath his son's insecurities and doubts. Here was one who would be good for Findaráto and help him to become the elf he was always meant to be.

Eärwen approached then, followed somewhat reluctantly by Amarië. She smiled at the two ellyn and held out her hands to Glorfindel, who bowed over them. "Welcome, my dear. I am glad my son has been reunited with his friend at last."

"Násië!" came a heart-felt reply and they turned to see Lord Námo standing there, a most peculiar expression on his face. All there bowed, the elves of Aman not a little unnerved. Arafinwë noticed, though, that none of the Reborn seemed unduly upset to see the Lord of Mandos. In fact some of them, including his own son, even smiled at him, and the King realized with a start that these elves had a more intimate knowledge of the Vala than even he did.

"Now perhaps your son will stop pestering me with his demands...er...petitions," Námo said, speaking to the King and his Queen. "And this one," pointing at Glorfindel who refused to look repentant, "this one will stop whining."

"I never whine!" Glorfindel protested, and several people gasped at the temerity of this unknown elf in speaking to the Lord of Mandos in such a fashion.

"Not according to my brother," the Lord of Mandos retorted, seemingly not at all upset. Then in a voice that sounded very much like Glorfindel's he continued, "Why can't I see Finrod now? When will we be together? Why do I have to wear clothes all the time?"

Finrod laughed and pointed at Glorfindel. "You, too?"

Glorfindel shrugged, his smile deepening, and the onlookers were surprised to see a slow smile gracing the Lord of Mandos' face as he looked upon the two ellyn. "Well, you have finally gotten your wish, my children. Use this time together wisely." Then, he took them into his embrace one at a time, kissing them on the brow. Both ellyn looked somewhat bemused but content. Námo glanced around at the stunned crowd and then gave Arafinwë and Eärwen a respectful nod before walking through the Gates, which closed silently behind him.

For a long moment no one moved, then Glorfindel collected himself and turned towards the person who had followed him out of the Gates. "Sador, come and meet my friend."

Sador reluctantly came forward, clutching his small bundle as well as Glorfindel's harp, which the ellon had thrust into his arms before rushing to greet Finrod.

Glorfindel motioned to Finrod. "This is my friend, Sador, originally from Doriath. We met in Lórien."

Sador bowed and muttered something in Quenya, looking embarrassed, but Finrod merely smiled and taking the ellon's hand, spoke in Sindarin, "If you are Glorfindel's friend, then you are my friend as well. Welcome, Sador, late of Doriath. Welcome to Aman."

Sador looked up with a tremulous smile and thanked the Noldo prince.

"Do you have family waiting for you, Sador?" Finrod asked gently, switching to Quenya and speaking slowly for Sador's sake.

Sador shook his head sadly. "Nay, lord, I fear I am alone."

"On the contrary," Finrod countered. "As long as you have Glorfindel and me as your friends you will never be alone. Now come and stay with us and I will have my atar make enquiries. There might be some distant kin living in Alqualondë with whom you could live."

"I... I don't think I want to live with strangers, however related they might be to me."

"I don't blame you, child," Arafinwë intervened. "It will be as my son has said. Until you are reunited with your own family, you must consider ours as a poor substitute."

Sador glanced at Glorfindel and Finrod with bemusement and Glorfindel gave him an encouraging squeeze. He smiled and leaned over to whisper rather loudly in Sador's ear, "I may be mistaken, but I think you're supposed to say 'thank you' right about now."

Sador blushed as everyone grinned and then tears began to fall as he tried to stammer his thanks. Arafinwë took the ellon in his arms and held him. "It is well, yonya. Hush, now. No tears. Welcome home."

A short while later the royal family, now numbering six, left the Gates of Return for the trip back to Tirion. Finrod noticed that Amarië refused to look at Glorfindel once they were introduced, though she spoke to him when he addressed her directly. Sador she ignored completely.

****

iAndondi Entulessëo: (Quenya) The Great Gates of Return.

Tolo hi. Mellon gîn anglenna in Ennyn Aderthad: (Sindarin) "Come now. Your friend approaches the Gates of Reunion."

The Sindarin name for these gates is different from the Quenya for two reasons: 1) there is no attested word for "return" in Sindarin and no attested word for "reunion" in Quenya, so I was forced to use these words in their own language without trying to reconstruct them in the other language; and, 2) on a sociolinguistic level, there is nothing to say that the Sindar would necessarily call these gates by the same name in translation as the Noldor, nor should they have to. Finrod, of course, translates this sentence for Arafinwë using the Quenya name for these gates.

Endórë: (Quenya) Middle-earth.

Násië: (Quenya) Amen.

Historical note: The only one of Finrod's Companions who is named is Edrahil with no indication of his race. Nor is there any other information about the other Companions. For the sake of this story, I have postulated that the Companions were a mixed group of Noldor and Sindar.