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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

25: Feasts and Follies

Amarië stood back to admire her work. The feast hall was exquisitely decorated. Everything was perfect, right down to the floral arrangements on the high table. She smiled and nodded to no one in particular, proud of the job she’d done. Amarië had decided not to attend the formal audience to greet the embassy from Tol Eressëa, for in truth, she found such functions tedious. Of course, she knew she would have to endure such things once she and Findaráto were married (if they ever were), but at the moment she could enjoy all the advantages of being a member of the royal family without having to suffer any of the disadvantages. So she had offered to oversee the feast that evening and Eärwen had gratefully accepted.

Now it was nearly time for her to get ready. She decided to detour to the kitchens one more time to check on things there before going to her bath.

****

The feast was something of a disappointment for Amarië after all her hard work. Oh, the food was as superb as ever; the cooks had outdone themselves with the savories and subtleties which graced the high table and had everyone asking for more. Everyone complimented her on the decorations and the table settings and praised her for her choice of musicians who entertained the company as they ate.

But it was all for nothing, as far as she was concerned.

As soon as the elves from Tol Eressëa entered the feast hall, they had literally taken it over. She was surprised to see Sador in their midst and even more surprised to see him sporting those ridiculous front braids that Findaráto and Glorfindel always wore. And then when she realized that those braids were covered with blood....

She searched for Findaráto in the crowd, hoping for an explanation, but had to settle for asking her closest friend Ercassë, who had attended the audience as one of Arafinwë’s junior courtiers. Her account sounded somewhat muddled and she wasn’t sure what this Lord Laurendil offering to kill himself in front of Findaráto had anything to do with Sador’s braids. She finally cornered Glorfindel between the second and third removes when he stepped outside for some air. She found him sitting alone on a garden bench. He was inclined to brush her off, but seeing the genuine interest in her eyes, gave her a brief sketch of what had happened.

"And he can’t wash his braids until tomorrow night?" was all she could think to say when the former Balrog-slayer had filled her in.

Glorfindel grinned at the fastidiousness of her tone, but elected to keep his opinions to himself. "I don’t think Sador is going to mind. And there’s a ritual that goes with that, too, though it’s more private."

Amarië glanced at the elf with a questioning look. "Finrod will teach Sador the proper pattern for the braids and instruct him on the warrior’s code as he bathes," Glorfindel explained and started laughing. "At least he gets to do it in a warm bath. I ended up having Gilvor instruct me while sitting in a very cold stream that fed Lake Linaewen in Nevrast. That was before Turgon removed to Gondolin," he added when Amarië looked blankly at the reference to Turgon’s first kingdom.

Amarië nodded, though she truly had no head for geography and didn’t care where Nevrast was or how cold the streams feeding Lake Linaewen were. However, she thanked Glorfindel for the information and went back inside the hall to find that all her carefully planned entertainments had come to naught — the Sindar were singing.

Not only that, but they apparently were singing some rather bawdy songs, not the sort one usually hears in a formal feast presided over by the King of the Noldor. To make matters worse, Findaráto seemed to know the songs too and was happily translating them into Quenya for the benefit of those unfamiliar with Sindarin. Amarië felt her face grow warm as she listened to the words, though she tried her best to ignore them.

She wondered how any of them dared to sing such songs in the presence of the King and half expected him to politely but firmly reprimand the singers, but when she saw Arafinwë laughing at a particularly ribald verse, she felt herself beginning to cry. She had worked so hard...

Amarië wanted to scream but forced herself to remain calm and keep her temper. She still remembered her encounter with Him and had no desire for a repeat performance. She remained unfailingly polite and smiled graciously at all and sundry. One of the Noldor from Tol Eressëa began a new song, which began innocuously enough — something about a Mortal fruit vendor selling an Elf some cherries.

"Oh! I know that one!" Sador exclaimed from the high table where he was seated between Lord Laurendil and Lady Manwen, who, it turned out, was his wife. Amarië had been somewhat taken aback when Lord Laurendil had insisted that Sador join him at the high table, forcing her to shift the seating around a bit at the last minute. Favored by the King or not, Sador should have been seated at the table just below the dais, as protocol demanded, but the elves from Tol Eressëa apparently had never heard of the word.

Laurendil gave the younger elf an amused look. "And how do you know this particular song, youngling?"

Sador sniffed disdainfully. "I’m not that young, my lord. I was well past my majority when I died. I heard the song when I was living at the Havens. Some of the Edain among us sang it often." Then he smiled slyly. "I even know the words to verse thirty-one."

At that revelation the entire delegation broke out in laughter and Amarië noticed that Findaráto was laughing the loudest.

"Verse thirty-one?" Arafinwë asked in confusion. "What’s verse thirty-one?"

Findaráto laughed even harder when he heard his atar’s question but was finally able to gasp out an explanation, of a sort. "Anatomically impossible but very inventive nonetheless."

Laurendil chimed in, grinning hugely. "The Edain are nothing if not inventive."

That set Findaráto laughing again, as who should know better than he the inventiveness of Mortals? "I remember the first time I heard that song," he gasped, his face merry with the memory. "Barahir... young Beren’s father... sang it to me and when he got to verse thirty-one I was so flabbergasted I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open. I must have looked ridiculous. And...and all I could think to say when he finished the verse was ‘Is that what you Mortals do with turnips? We Eldar simply eat them!’" and then he was caught up in another fit of laughter, tears running down his face, and the Tol Eressëan elves joined him.

Amarië noticed that the elves of Tirion wore bemused looks on their faces, though some of them were laughing out of sympathy. She was surprised to see that Glorfindel had the same look of bemusement; apparently, living in hidden Gondolin had had its disadvantages... if one considers not knowing the words to the mysterious verse thirty-one a disadvantage.

"I was never so confounded in my entire life," Findaráto added when he had calmed down somewhat, wiping the tears from his eyes, "and it took a Mortal to do it, too."

"So, do we get to hear this song, yonya?" Arafinwë asked, but Findaráto shook his head and even Lord Laurendil was shaking his.

"I think not, Atar, at least not here. Perhaps I will have Sador give you a private recitation," and Findaráto flashed a wicked grin at his gwador, who blushed but otherwise did not protest.

Arafinwë chuckled. "I look forward to it."

Then, Glorfindel suddenly stood up, grabbed Findaráto by the hand and dragged him to the center of the hall where all could see them. Everyone gave them a somewhat mystified look.

"I think it’s high time all bets were off," Glorfindel exclaimed loudly and then he and Findaráto doffed their boots and their tabards and began dancing a madly twirling dance that reminded Amarië of when these two had been reunited at the Gates of Return. There was only one difference...

She gasped along with everyone else when the two ellyn began flinging off other pieces of clothing. Somehow they even managed to remove their breeches without breaking a step until the two of them were twirling about dressed only in their warrior braids. Everyone sat there in stunned silence, except for Arafinwë, who had begun laughing.

As suddenly as they had begun, the two elves stopped and stood facing the high table, their hands on their hips, identical grins gracing their faces, and neither with a single stitch on.

"You lose the bet, Atar!" Findaráto exclaimed with a laugh. "You and Lord Rialcar both lose the bet." Suddenly everyone in the hall started laughing, even those from Tol Eressëa as Sador quickly filled them in on the joke.

That was the final straw! Amarië strove to keep her temper, but failed miserably. She moved to stand before the high table, stamped her foot in frustration, her face dark with fury and nearly screamed, "Finrod Felagund! You put your clothes on right now or so help me my next tapestry will show you in all your... your glory and I will hang it in the front portico of the palace for all of Tirion to see!"

Most of the elves started laughing and some even sniggered at Amarië’s threat, but Findaráto just stood there, his mouth open and his eyes wide. "Wh-what did you call me?"

Amarië stared at her betrothed in confusion, her anger suddenly gone. "Wh-what...?"

Now the hall began to quiet as the elves sensed a different sort of drama unfolding between the erstwhile lovers. Finrod stepped quietly before Amarië, looking up at her. "What did you call me?" he asked softly.

"F-finrod," she stammered, suddenly afraid. "I-I called you Finrod Fe-felagund. That is your name isn’t it?"

"One of them," Finrod conceded.

For a long moment after they just stared at one another, and suddenly Finrod smiled and then he laughed and before she realized what he meant to do he swooped her up into his arms and was planting a most delicious and highly unchaste kiss on her lips. She started to protest but instead wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as unchastely, astonished at how good it felt to be in his naked embrace.

Neither she nor Finrod paid any heed to the collective gasp from the watching elves, or Eärwen’s rather plaintive, "At least wait until you’re married, dears."

Glorfindel gave a loud sigh that sounded to many as if he were about to suffer a major respiratory attack. "Why does he get to kiss all the pretty ellith?" he protested, throwing Finrod’s tunic at him, though the ellon was still too busy kissing Amarië to notice.

"Stop whining," Sador said, flinging a tomato that landed squarely in Glorfindel’s face. "And put your clothes on. You look ridiculous."

****

High on Taniquetil, several of the Valar were laughing at Olórin’s description of the audience with the elves of Tol Eressëa and the feast that followed.

He had come among the elves guised as one of them, though none there recognized him and instantly forgot his existence as soon as they left his presence. He had witnessed Sador’s initiation with approval. Lord Námo had been right to tell Finrod and Glorfindel the truth about Sador’s past. He had watched how Amarië handled the unexpected disruptions to her carefully laid-out plans for the feast and had been pleased with her efforts to keep her temper. He had grinned at Finrod’s description on hearing ‘The Elf and the Fruit Vendor’ for the first time and had watched with amusement Amarië’s tantrum when Glorfindel and Finrod had removed all their clothes before the entire court.

"Why did you tell Findaráto and Glorfindel about Sador?" Vairë asked her beloved spouse at one point and Námo smiled upon her, amusement in his eyes.

"Because Sador wouldn’t, even when Irmo insisted he should."

"But that’s interfering with Sador’s right of free will not to tell," Vairë protested. "Isn’t it?" She turned to Manwë, who shook his head.

"Eru himself wished it so," the Elder King explained.

Námo nodded. "I...accosted Finrod and Glorfindel a few days ago." He chuckled at the memory of finding the ellyn in the baths together. Sador had just left. Their expressions when he had appeared standing in the middle of the bathing pool as naked as they had been priceless. "I told them about what happened in Doriath. It was their idea to initiate him into their warrior society."

"And that will be important for many in the days and even years to come," Manwë added, though he declined to explain further and none there pressed him.

"So did they ever sing ‘The Elf and the Fruit Vendor’?" Varda suddenly asked Olórin, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Olórin laughed. "Nay, Lady. Findaráto decided that prudence was the better part of valor and offered to give Arafinwë a more private recitation, or rather, offered to have young Sador give it."

That set everyone laughing.

"Pity."

They all looked at Varda in surprise, including Manwë. The Star-Kindler gave them all a virtuous smile. "I’m rather fond of verse thirty-one."

And to the utter amazement of the other Valar and Olórin, the proper Queen of the Valar began singing the very raucous and quite explicit words of verse thirty-one. By the time she reached the end of the first stanza, the others had laughingly joined her.





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