24: The Embassy from Tol Eressëa

The court arranged itself accordingly; Arafinwë and Eärwen stood on the dais before their thrones, while Finrod stood just below and to Arafinwë’s right with Sador standing next to him and Glorfindel just beyond. At a signal from Arafinwë his master of ceremonies announced, "Your Majesties, Lord Laurendil Rialcarion, and the embassy from Tol Eressëa." The doors opposite the thrones opened and the delegation entered.

Glorfindel saw a tall Noldo stride into the room behind whom came a mixed group of Noldor and Sindar. Not all of them were ellyn but those who were sported warrior’s braids, including Laurendil. The former captain of the Dorthonion rangers took in the scene before him and without breaking stride moved to stand before Finrod, ignoring Arafinwë altogether and knelt before the former King of Nargothrond. The courtiers gasped at the affront. Neither Arafinwë nor Finrod moved. Many in the delegation, recognizing Finrod, followed Laurendil’s example.

Laurendil kept his eyes on the floor as he gave his greeting. "Aran Meletyalda, I regret I no longer have a sword to offer you but know that you still have my life." Then he looked up and there were tears in his eyes, tears and great sorrow. "I-I would have come with you, aranya, on your last quest if I...forgive me for my cowardice...I failed you and..."

Finrod finally moved and stooped to raise the Noldo up and gave him the kiss of liege to vassal. "You did not fail me, Laurendil. Never think that. Hush now. What is past is past and cannot be undone. Rejoice instead that we are reunited once again." Then he smiled at the Noldo who had once been his subject and Laurendil attempted to smile back as he wiped the tears from his eyes and collected himself. "That’s better. Now why don’t you introduce me to your people?"

The other members of the delegation were still kneeling and as Finrod moved among them they all attempted to take his hand and kiss it, awe and joy at the sight of him warring in their expressions. Not a few uttered tearful apologies, for they had been from Nargothrond and had turned against him at the end. Yet he never spoke in condemnation but greeted them graciously and even had a personal word or two for some of them whom he remembered with fondness.

The King’s court stood there in shocked silence at the tableau: their prince surrounded by kneeling elves, all hoping to receive forgiveness from a one-time king of a drowned kingdom. They saw Findaráto with new eyes as the dignity of his rank and the weight of his authority became evident from the way the members of the delegation responded to his presence, even those who were Sindar. It was obvious to all there that they were as much in awe of the prince as any of the Tol Eressëan Noldor, if not more so, and the courtiers became thoughtful.

At last, Finrod bade the members of the delegation to rise and, taking Laurendil by the hand, led the Noldo before the King. "Atar, may I present Lord Laurendil Rialcarion, once a captain of my rangers and a loyal friend to our House."

Laurendil bowed before Arafinwë. "Forgive me, my lord. I fear the shock of seeing my ki... I mean, Prince Findaráto again overwhelmed me. I meant no insult to you or your court."

"Did you not know that Findaráto would be here, Lord Laurendil?" Arafinwë asked. He had been just as shocked as the others at the sight of this proud Noldo kneeling before his son, and even more shocked at the way Findaráto had acted. For the first time Arafinwë honestly believed that his firstborn had been a true king among the Exiles, worthy of fealty given and received.

The head of the delegation nodded, looking rueful. "Yes, lord, but... I knew it in my mind, but my heart...." and he broke down again and Finrod put a comforting arm around him and held him close.

"Hush now, captain. I expect better from you. The last time I saw you weep it was because you were cutting up onions for our stew," he said teasingly.

Arafinwë raised an eyebrow in question and Finrod smiled. "I was traveling through Dorthonion, visiting my brothers and checking on our defenses. I joined Laurendil’s patrol in Ladros for a time and I witnessed Eregil, one of the scouts, tricking his superior into cutting the onions for a stew one night even though it was Eregil’s turn to prepare the meal."

Laurendil smiled through his tears. "He even managed somehow to convince you to peel the carrots."

Arafinwë and Eärwen both had incredulous looks on their faces and Finrod laughed gaily. "It was an interesting experience to say the least and I was not offended, though I fear many in the camp were scandalized at the sight of their king with a peeler in his hand instead of a sword. Certainly my brothers were."

Laurendil sniggered. "I made sure Eregil spent the next season in the coldest, remotest outpost I could find for his pains." He shook his head at the memory. "Poor lad, he never made it out of the Dagor Bragollach."

"Many did not," Glorfindel said, coming to stand next to Finrod. "Well met, my lord. I am Glorfindel, formerly of Gondolin."

The Noldo gave him a startled look and awe swept across his face as he bowed low. "My lord, I am honored to meet you at last." And to the surprise of many of the Noldor of Arafinwë’s court, every member of the delegation bowed to the Balrog-slayer and one or two even went so far as to kneel and kiss the hem of his tabard. Glorfindel took it in his stride, little though he liked it, and urged the elves to rise, giving them a warrior’s embrace.

All this time, Sador stood quietly where Finrod had left him, watching as his two gwedyr were honored by the Noldor and Sindar from Tol Eressëa. As was only right. He was so pleased to see Finrod being accorded the respect his own people denied him and was glad that he had been there to witness it. So he was somewhat taken aback when Finrod came and pulled him towards the crowd of elves standing around Glorfindel.

"And this is our otorno, Sador, who comes from Doriath," Finrod said by way of introduction. Several of the delegation, warriors and daughters of warriors, saw the blood drying on the ellon’s braids and recognized its significance. Laurendil looked at his former king with a raised eyebrow.

"Glorfindel and I initiated him just before your arrival," Finrod explained. "It is the reason for the slight delay to your audience."

"Which reminds me, Findaráto," Arafinwë said somewhat dryly. "You still haven’t explained why you waited until now to initiate Sador into your... warrior society."

Finrod looked at his atar with a slight frown. "Do you disapprove, Atar?"

"Disapprove?" The King shook his head. "I do not have enough information to approve or disapprove anything, yonya. Perhaps you will enlighten me. Us," he amended, nodding to his court. "It is my understanding that only proven warriors are permitted to wear these braids." He flicked a finger towards Finrod’s own braids and noticed with amusement the looks of disgust on some of his younger courtiers. No doubt some of them had thought to imitate his son with their own braids, but he already had decided he would squash that idea from the very beginning. "Of course, Aman has no need for warriors..."

"At the moment."

Arafinwë glanced in surprise at Laurendil, who bowed. "Forgive me, my lord, if I speak out of turn, but it has been my experience that just because a need is not acknowledged does not mean it does not exist. Aman may indeed never know war, and I pray that it is so, but as one of my rangers was very fond of saying, ‘If wishes were orcs, we’d all be in a lot of trouble’."

Several chuckled at that and the King smiled. "True, Laurendil, too true." Then he turned his attention to Sador, his gaze thoughtful. "What did you do, yonya, in Lestanórë, to have earned these braids of yours?"

Sador shook his head, his face white. "Nothing, m-my lord. I swear..."

Finrod took him by the shoulders and shook him. "Hush, now. That isn’t what we have heard. You saved several elflings from death, an elfling yourself, defending them against my unlamented cousins’ troops. I believe you accounted for three of the kinslayers."

Sador noticed the looks of respect on the faces of the Tol Eressëan elves as Finrod recounted his supposed deeds, and the looks of disbelief on the faces of the courtiers. He shook his head, trying to get them to see. "B-but it was all a mi-mistake!"

"A mistake to defend children from madmen?" Glorfindel asked in surprise.

"No... I mean... I didn’t mean to...I was just so scared... and...." He couldn’t help it. He started crying and tried to pull away from Finrod’s grasp, hoping to flee and hide his shame. He wasn’t a warrior, whatever his gwedyr said. But Finrod refused to release him and simply held him close. He heard the prince give Lord Laurendil and the other elves an explanation.

"...only sixty-eight when Maedhros and Maglor attacked Sirion. He died trying to protect his little sister."

"That means he wasn’t even forty when Doriath..." Laurendil began then stopped, looking at the Sinda still weeping in Finrod’s arms. He gave his former liege a questioning look and Finrod nodded. Laurendil turned to one of the elleth in his company, a Sinda herself. "Manwen..."

The elleth nodded, knowing what Laurendil wished, and smiled, giving the Noldo lord a respectful curtsey. "Of course, my lord." She moved to Sador’s side and gave Finrod a smile before turning her attention to the Sinda, stroking his hair. "I remember that day very clearly," she began softly, almost to herself. "There was so much confusion, and fear and blood. It was everywhere and I think it was weeks before I could smell anything else." She paused, still stroking Sador’s hair. "What do you remember?"

At first Sador said nothing, merely sniffed dejectedly in embarrassment, though none there seemed to be condemnatory in their attitude towards him. When he did speak it was in a whisper, though all there heard his words. "I was tossing a ball with my friends in one of the courtyards when we heard screaming and then people were running. There was panic everywhere and then... then there were warriors, but they weren’t our... their eyes..."

He stopped, unable to go on, and no one moved. Finrod rubbed Sador’s back and Manwen continued stroking his hair. Finally he continued, straightening up in Finrod’s embrace and staring directly into Glorfindel’s eyes, as if he were telling the story only to him. And perhaps that’s not far from the truth, Glorfindel surmised.

"My friends all scattered. Most, I never saw again. I couldn’t move." He stopped and took a few deep breaths before continuing. "There were some elflings in the courtyard, maybe five or six, the oldest I don’t think was even twenty. They were huddled in a group by a fountain, too scared to move... to hide. The warriors saw them and...I remember throwing the ball and hitting one of them, hoping to distract them. I remember yelling and running at them. I don’t know why I did that... it was so bloody stupid. I wasn’t even armed, except with a small knife. Then one of the attackers was on me and I managed somehow to get under his sword reach and stab him. Not very hard or even in a vulnerable spot, but it surprised him. Surprised him enough that I was able to yank the sword out of his hand. It was so heavy and I felt so clumsy with it. Somehow I managed to hit him with it."

He had to stop again, the memory of his first kill overwhelming him. He had managed to forget but now it was all coming back. "H-his head... rolled and..." He had to close his eyes then and will himself not to be sick. Glorfindel moved and took him fully into his embrace and held him as another wave of weeping swept over the Sinda.

Finrod took up the tale. "I heard from someone who was there that Sador managed to take two more of the kinslayers down, then herded all of the children from the courtyard and led them to safety into the forests of Region. It took them the better part of three days to find other refugees fleeing from Doriath."

"From whom did you hear this, Findaráto?" Arafinwë asked, looking upon Sador with new eyes. "I don’t recall anyone from Lestanórë..."

Finrod gave his atar a wry look. "I heard it from Lord Námo, Atar. He felt Glorfindel and I should know."

Sador pulled out of Glorfindel’s embrace to stare wide-eyed at Finrod. "L-lord Námo told you?"

"Yes, and we’re glad he did," Glorfindel answered instead, shaking the Sinda by the shoulders. "You should have told us, hanno."

"But I didn’t even mean to kill him... don’t you see? I just wanted him to go away. I don’t even remember killing the other two at all. I just remember running through the forests with one of the elflings in my arms. I-I’m not a warrior... I don’t deserve..."

Laurendil started laughing, which stunned everyone, including Sador. "Forgive me, youngling. I am just remembering the day I was initiated as a warrior by my Sindarin companions not long after arriving in Beleriand. I believe I kept telling everyone that I didn’t mean to kill the orc that was attacking me, I just wanted it to go away."

Sador stared at the Noldo for a moment and saw the truth in his eyes and the humor of what he had just said and started to giggle. Before long he was laughing and Finrod and Glorfindel and many of the other elves joined him.

"It’s true, though...I really d-did just want him to... to go away," Sador said between fits of laughter.

"True or not, Sador," Finrod replied. "The fact remains that you ran towards death, not away from it. You picked up a sword to defend those who could not defend themselves and brought them to safety. That is all a warrior can do. That is all a warrior is — someone who defends those who cannot defend themselves against the evil that assails them."

Sador gave a sigh, looking at his feet. "I couldn’t save Ninniach."

"Just as I couldn’t save Gondolin," Glorfindel said.

"Or I Nargothrond," Laurendil added. "But each of us saved what we could, and that has to be enough or we would never lift up our swords again. The fact that you were untrained in warfare and an elfling yourself makes your feat all the more incredible, otornya. So do I name you," he said at Sador’s startled expression. "My king has called you his brother. How can I do any less?"

And with that, Laurendil took Sador by the shoulders and offered him the three kisses of a warrior, then started to remove a small knife from his belt, but Finrod stopped him with a gesture, beckoning for the page still holding the box to step forward. Finrod lifted the lid and Laurendil gasped.

"You have a sigil e-hereg! How..."

"I made it soon after being re-embodied, though I did not know why at the time, not knowing I would have a need for it."

Laurendil took the knife with his left hand and with one sure movement sliced his right palm, then taking hold of first one than the other of Sador’s braids, wiped his blood on them. "Maethor onnen, gwador onen," he said then moved aside. Immediately one of the Sindarin ellyn from Tol Eressëa stepped forward, took the knife from Laurendil and did the same thing. One by one all the warriors took a turn until the last had completed the ritual. Finrod, meanwhile, had ordered additional strips of linen to be brought for the warriors to wrap their hands.

All this time none of the Amanian elves made a sound or movement. It was as if they were frozen in place. Only when Finrod was returning the now cleaned knife to its box did Arafinwë stir. He looked at Sador, his braids red with blood, still looking pale, but his eyes were calm and there was a new sense of dignity in his stance. Glorfindel was grinning and speaking animatedly with one or two of the ellyn from the delegation in rapid Sindarin, while Laurendil stood beside Findaráto, both of them with their arms around Sador, the three of them speaking softly about their lives in Beleriand, speaking of people and places about which he, Arafinwë, knew nothing. He finally cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Why do I get the feeling that I’ve just lost control of my own court?" he asked no one in particular. Findaráto blushed and Glorfindel laughed.

"That’s because you have, my lord," the former Balrog-slayer said, suddenly twirling around to let his braids fly, the gems sparkling in the sun. "But we will gladly return it to you, if you wish."

"Why thank you, yonya," Arafinwë said somewhat sarcastically, though the smile that accompanied the words belied the tone. The last few moments had been informative on many levels, as well as being entertaining.

His son laughed, as did Sador, while Laurendil looked upon them with bemusement, not sure how to respond. "Please forgive me, lord king," he finally said with a bow to Arafinwë, "I did not mean to..."

Arafinwë waved a hand in dismissal. "I do not blame you, Lord Laurendil, nor any of your people. Come. Let us dispense with formality. Time enough for that when we sit down to speak of your mission. Let us assume we have exchanged the proper greetings and protocol has been observed and move on." He dismissed the court with a nod and waved Laurendil to walk with him and the queen. "We will retire and take our ease before tonight’s feast. I wish to hear more about this warrior tradition you have. What is the significance of the knife? Glorfindel did not believe there was even one in existence in Aman and was very surprised when my son produced one...."

They left the room with Findaráto, Glorfindel, Sador and the rest of the Tol Eressëan elves trailing behind them.

****

Aran Meletyalda : (Quenya) Your majesty; literally "king your mighty".

Aranya: (Quenya) My king.

Gwedyr: (Sindarin) Plural of gwador: (sworn) brother. The Quenya otorno has the same meaning.

Otornya: (Quenya) My (sworn) brother; contracted from otornonya, cf. yonya.