31: Glorfindel Among the Vanyar

Five other Noldor accompanied the Vanyar besides Glorfindel. Two were ellith — Elemmírë and Amarië’s friend, Ercassë. The other ellyn were Lómion, Vorondil and Elemmírë’s twin, Elessairon. Lómion and Elessairon were pleasant enough company, as were the ellith, but Vorondil was somewhat moody and disinclined to talk. Glorfindel kept to himself most of the trip, though he was polite enough when necessary, especially towards the ellith.

The journey was not long, but neither was it comfortable, at least not for Glorfindel, who had to suffer the disdain of the Vanyar along with the heartache he felt. Yet, much of that was forgotten as they came closer to Oiolossë and its high peak of Taniquetil where dwelt the Elder King and the Elentári. Even Vorondil stopped brooding long enough to gasp in wonder at the mountain rising majestically before them. Glorfindel had to remember to close his mouth.

Vanyamar was a graceful city of tall spires, flowing fountains and lush gardens set against the foot of the mountain. The palace of the High King of All the Elves stood on a precipice overlooking the rest of the city. Before long the six Noldor were being ushered into an audience chamber that was easily twice the size of the throne room in Tirion.

The Noldor stopped and stared. Crystal globes hung from the ceiling, providing light as the sun shone through high windows. Pillars of pure white marble lined the nave, seven on each side. Each pillar was carved with a likeness of one of the Valar with Manwë and Varda nearest to the throne. The floor was also marble, but of different shades and hues, creating a design that was difficult to make out from their perspective. The room was meant to overawe and the Noldor were certainly that, though Glorfindel was the only one to successfully hide it. The two ellith held hands as they approached the throne before which stood Ingwë the High King.

Ingwë, Glorfindel saw, was easily the tallest of the elves there, his hair fair, almost white, as was his beard, a sign of his age as one of the oldest Eldar in Aman. His ancient eyes were a piercing blue-green. The Light of the Trees still glowed from them and the memory of the stars above Cuiviénen shone through them. He was richly dressed but wore only a simple coronet made of mithril with a single blue diamond in the center. He greeted Tinwetariel with a smile and a kiss.

"Greetings, sister. I trust your mission went well?" Ingwë’s voice was melodious with a lilt that Glorfindel found familiar but could not place.

"Well enough, sire," Tinwetariel said with a brief curtsey.

"Good. Perhaps you will introduce me to our guests."

Tinwetariel nodded. "Allow me to make you known to Lady Ercassë and Lady Elemmírë." The ellith curstied deeply, still looking ill at ease. Ingwë smiled graciously at them.

"Be welcome to my court, my dears. I hope you will enjoy your stay here." Ingwë’s voice was warm and welcoming and the ellith visibly relaxed.

"And this is Elemmírë’s brother, Lord Elessairon," Tinwetariel continued. "Also Lord Lómion and Lord Vorondil."

The three ellyn bowed and Ingwë gave them his greeting. Glorfindel stood beside them, keeping his expression as bland as possible although inwardly he was seething at Tinwetariel’s obvious slight.

The High King raised an eyebrow at Tinwetariel. "I believe you forgot one, my dear," he chided gently and Glorfindel had the pleasure of seeing the haughty Vanya blush. However, he wasn’t about to let her introduce him. Glorfindel took a step forward and bowed.

"I am Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Ondolindë, now residing at the court of Arafinwë, Ingwë Ingweron."

Ingwë’s eyes widened. Tinwetariel, mistaking the High King’s reaction for disapproval, gave a mirthless laugh. "That’s right, brother. Arafinwë has seen fit to foist one of the Reborn on us. Laurefindil is somewhat barbaric, true, but perhaps we can civilize him before sending him back to Tirion. Certainly we can convince him to get rid of those ridiculous braids."

Ingwë gave Tinwetariel a surprised look which quickly turned to one of disgust. He turned his attention to Glorfindel. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Glorfindel asked with some heat, quite forgetting to whom he was speaking. "True that I’m a lord of Ondolindë or true that I was stupid enough to get myself killed and now have to spend the rest of my life having the rest of you spit on me."

There was an audible gasp from the onlookers and even the other Noldor paled at Glorfindel’s outburst, though Vorondil looked more disgusted than upset. Tinwetariel rolled her eyes dramatically.

"See what I mean, brother?"

"Silence, Tinwetariel." Ingwë’s tone was chilling and Tinwetariel looked positively stunned. "Come here, child." Ingwë motioned for Glorfindel to approach, which he did with some reluctance. The High King stared at the ellon for some time, then reached out and let one of Glorfindel’s braids slide through his fingers. "How long have you been Reborn?" he asked quietly.

Glorfindel shrugged. He had no idea how long it had been since his re-embodiment and didn’t much care. Time didn’t seem quite as important to him as it once did.

"He’s been Reborn for nearly three coranári, my lord."

Glorfindel turned in surprise to see Olórin striding up the nave towards the throne. "Olórin! What are you doing here?"

The Maia laughed and held out his arms. Glorfindel ran to him gladly and Olórin embraced him. "My dear boy," he said quietly, humor in his eyes. "You’re looking well."

Ingwë gave the Maia a respectful nod and then smiled wryly. "I take it you two know each other."

"Oh indeed we do," Olórin laughed again. "I had the dubious honor of being this one’s caregiver while he was in Mandos. Terrible whiner, you see."

"I never whine!" Glorfindel protested, playfully slapping the Maia on the chest. "And you asked to be my caregiver as I recall."

Olórin gave the ellon another hug even as he laughed. "Indeed I did, child. Indeed I did." He winked at the High King over Glorfindel’s head.

"You are always welcome, my lord Olórin," Ingwë said, smiling warmly at the interplay between the ellon and the Maia. "Is this a social visit or are you here officially?"

"Both actually. And my first order of business is with Glorfindel."

"Me?" Glorfindel asked in surprise as he stepped away from the Maia.

Olórin suddenly looked grave as he silently handed Glorfindel a small piece of parchment folded once but unsealed. Glorfindel looked at the parchment in the Maia’s hand blankly. Ingwë frowned and glanced at the Maia who shook his head slightly at the High King’s unspoken question but never took his eyes off Glorfindel.

"It helps if you actually take it, Glorfindel," he said quietly and not unkindly.

Glorfindel started at the Maia’s words and then slowly took the piece of parchment from him and opened it. He read the words there, turned absolutely white and started to crumple to the floor.

"Ingwë!" Olórin shouted even as he grabbed Glorfindel by the arm to hold him up. Ingwë snapped an order even as he grabbed Glorfindel’s other arm and led him to the throne where he made the ellon sit. Someone came with a goblet of water and Olórin urged Glorfindel to drink though it took several minutes for the ellon to respond to the Maia’s words.

Ingwë picked up the piece of parchment that had fallen from the ellon’s lifeless fingers and began reading. He was unaware that he was reading the words aloud.

"‘Remember our last conversation, elfling. Next time won’t be quite as pleasant. Námo.’"

Ingwë ignored the gasps that ran through the room. He looked up at the Maia, his eyes full of curiosity. "What happened the last time?" he asked, but Olórin only grimaced and shook his head.

"I...I threw up," Glorfindel whispered, staring at nothing.

Ingwë gave the ellon a sympathetic look. Glorfindel was still white but it was obvious he was trying to pull himself together. He pushed himself out of the seat, wavering slightly, and looked directly at the High King, attempting a bow, though he had to clutch Olórin’s arm to stop from keeling over.

"My apologies, my lord. I meant no disrespect."

"On the contrary," Ingwë said with a hint of amusement lurking in his eyes. "You meant every word. It is I who should apologize to you for any discomfort anyone from my court may have caused you." The High King did not look at anyone specifically but all there saw the Lady Tinwetariel pale at her brother-in-law’s words. "I welcome you to my court, Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower of Ondolindë, Balrog-slayer."

Glorfindel did not even question how Ingwë knew that last bit, but nodded his acknowledgment as Ingwë turned to Olórin with a twinkle in his eye.

"So was that the social part of your visit?"

The Maia’s laugh was rich and joyful and even Glorfindel found comfort in it as tension eased throughout the room. "Hardly, my lord." He gave Glorfindel an appraising look, gauging his physical and mental state. "And my business with Glorfindel was completely unofficial."

"Then let us go and we will talk," Ingwë said. He turned to his chamberlain. "Sorontor, dismiss the court and see to our guests." Sorontor bowed and Ingwë turned to the five young Noldor, all looking a bit uncomfortable. He smiled at them warmly. "We will have a welcoming feast for you tonight. I hope your stay in Vanyamar will be pleasant and educational. Go now and Sorontor will see to your needs." The five courtiers from Tirion gave the High King their obeisance before allowing the chamberlain to lead them away.

Ingwë then turned to Tinwetariel, his expression turning grave. "We will talk later, my dear. Please keep yourself in readiness for my summons." Tinwetariel nodded dumbly and curtsied, her face pale. She managed to keep the fury she felt from showing in her eyes. Her brother-in-law was not pleased and she knew who to blame for that.

"Glorfindel, come with us," Ingwë finally said, and the ellon found himself walking between the High King and the Maia, each with a supporting hand on his arms, for he was still feeling unsteady. He never noticed the court bowing as they left the chamber.

****

Cuiviénen: "Water of Awakening", where the Elves first awoke. Ingwë is one of the oldest elves living, as his name testifies. Tolkien states that in the third phase of their lives, male Eldar tend to grow beards; cf. Círdan the Shipwright.

Ingwë Ingweron: "Chief of the Chieftains", the proper title of Ingwë as High King.

Coranári: Plural of coranar: "sun-round"; a solar year.

Oiolossë: "Ever-snowwhite". A name of Taniquetil, "High White Horn". Properly, Taniquetil refers to the topmost peak of which Oiolossë is the entire mountain.

Elentári: "Star-Queen"; a title of Varda.