32: In the High King’s Garden

Glorfindel found himself being led into a small study, richly appointed yet cosy in its own way. One look and you knew that this was where Ingwë preferred to spend his time. Ingwë indicated some seats and the elf and the Maia took them, while the High King went to a sideboard and poured some wine into a couple of goblets. He handed one to Glorfindel.

"Drink, child," he said. "You still look pale."

Glorfindel managed to mumble his thanks before taking the goblet, and was embarrassed to find that his hands were still shaking. Olórin reached over and took the goblet from him.

"Allow me, child," and the Maia gently placed his left hand against the back of Glorfindel’s head to support him and held the goblet while he drank. It was a familiar and comforting gesture to Glorfindel, the memories of his early days of re-embodiment coming to mind. After a few sips the trembling ceased and Glorfindel was able to take the goblet for himself.

"You dropped this," Ingwë said quietly and handed the piece of parchment to him. Glorfindel found himself instinctively recoiling and a whimper escaped from him before he could stop himself. Ingwë reached down and took the goblet from the ellon’s hand and handed it to Olórin who sat there in watchful silence, willing to allow the High King to deal with the youngster.

Ingwë then reached down and pulled Glorfindel into his embrace, rubbing his back to calm him. "It does no good to cower child," he said almost in a whisper, though Olórin heard him well enough. "It only makes Them more eager to see you in such a state."

Olórin raised an eyebrow at that statement and saw Ingwë wink at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Wh-why?" Glorfindel asked, curious in spite of himself.

"Because, deep down they’re like elflings poking a stick into an ant hill just to see the ants scurry around. Give them a reason to see you scurry even more and they will take it with all the manic glee of a twelve year old."

Somehow that image forced a giggle out of Glorfindel and he began trembling again, but with suppressed laughter rather than with fear. Ingwë continued to rub the ellon’s back as he held him through the spasms. Soon the laughter ended to be replaced by tears. Whatever Ingwë might say it had still been a shock to read those words from Námo. Ingwë held him then as well, never scolding him for breaking down. Finally, Olórin decided to take a hand and stood up, gently pulling Glorfindel out of Ingwë’s embrace and into his own.

"There now, child," the Maia crooned. "You’ve been properly scolded for your bad behavior and have been forgiven. Now dry these tears. You don’t want the High King to think you’re too young to remain here and learn from him, do you?"

Glorfindel shook his head and wiped the tears from his face with his hand but didn’t otherwise try to leave Olórin’s embrace. Ingwë placed a comforting hand on the ellon’s shoulder.

"I’m very glad you were able to come, Glorfindel," he said warmly. "I hope we can both learn from each other while you are here."

"Wh-what could I possibly teach you, m-my lord?" and there was just a trace of bitterness in the ellon’s voice that brought sorrow and anger to the High King’s heart, though Ingwë was careful not to show it in either face or voice.

"You’ve taught me much in just the short time since your arrival, hinya. Never doubt that." He squeezed the ellon’s shoulder and handed him the parchment a second time. After a brief moment of hesitation, Glorfindel took it and slipped it into an inner pocket of his outer robe.

Ingwë nodded. "That’s better." He then made his way to his desk and sat. Olórin and Glorfindel took their own seats again. Ingwë looked at the Maia and smiled. "So, was that the social part of your visit?"

Olórin broke out in laughter at the words and Glorfindel snorted, trying hard not to laugh at his elders. "You’re incorrigible, elfling," the Maia pronounced as he continued to laugh.

"I try my best, and I learned from the best," Ingwë said with a pointed look at Olórin.

"What?" the Maia feigned indignation. "Are you accusing me of blatant disobedience to my Lord Manwë?"

"Blatant, no," Ingwë responded dead-pan and was awarded with another round of laughter from his Maia guest. Glorfindel finally broke down and joined in.

Then Glorfindel gasped, for their laughter was joined by Another, whose Presence, though only barely felt, was nevertheless quite tangible. He had the sense of blue eyes ringed with gold gazing upon him with love and then they were gone, so quickly that he thought he must have imagined it. Yet there was a feeling of peace and well-being that lingered in the air after the image had faded, leaving Glorfindel feeling refreshed.

Ingwë shook his head at the ellon’s bemused expression, guessing what Glorfindel must have felt. "Nay, child. It was not your imagination. Lord Manwë was here, if only for a brief moment."

Olórin nodded when Glorfindel cast him a questioning look and the ellon shivered slightly, then pulled himself together with visible effort. "Sorry," he mumbled with some embarrassment.

"There is nothing to be sorry about, child," Olórin said kindly.

"So, why are you here, if I may make so bold, my lord?" Ingwë asked Olórin.

Olórin reached inside his robe and pulled out another sheet of parchment. This one was larger than the one he had given Glorfindel and was properly sealed. Glorfindel craned his neck to see the seal without seeming to do so. Both Maia and High King hid smiles at the youngster’s obvious curiosity. Ingwë took the proffered missive and broke the seal. Glorfindel was able to just make out what looked like the image of an eagle embedded into the wax. Ingwë began reading, his face carefully neutral. He glanced up once at Olórin and there was silent communication between them. As the High King went back to re-reading the missive, Olórin turned to Glorfindel.

"Have you seen the High King’s garden yet, Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "I haven’t seen anything of Vanyamar. We went directly to the audience chamber."

"Well, I think you might enjoy them, especially this time of the day."

"Olórin is correct, my son," Ingwë said, looking up from the parchment. "Why don’t you spend some time there? Olórin and I have some business we need to discuss. You can reach the gardens through that archway there." Ingwë pointed to an open arch with steps leading down into a paved courtyard. "Turn left at the end of the courtyard and the gardens are straight ahead. I will send for you and we will talk."

Glorfindel recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He stood up and gave High King and Maia a brief bow and walked out of the study, down the steps, making his way to the gardens. He was not sure why he was being singled out by the High King, other than the fact that he was a novelty, being Reborn. It wasn’t as if he had any special talents or knowledge about statecraft, though more and more of his memories of his days as one of Turgon’s chief councillors were beginning to surface and those memories made him seem older and wiser than the other young courtiers from Tirion. He didn’t think he was either but....

He stopped dead, feeling his jaw drop and his eyes bulge. He knew the palace gardens in Tirion and they were indeed beautiful but this...

Words couldn’t begin to describe the riot of colors. There were fountains everywhere. Shade trees and wild blooms graced the walkways. He actually was standing at the top of a set of stairs where water ran on either side in troughs from a fountain in the courtyard behind him. The water continued to run into a nénuvar where yellow water-lilies floated. Statues of exquisite beauty graced the area. The statue in the middle of the lily pool depicted Ulmo with Ossë and Uinen riding dolphins. Birds of every shade and hue trilled their songs in the trees, flashing across the space between one tree and the next like colored smoke, too quick for the eye to catch.

He began to wander, lost in wonder, forgetting the resentment he had been feeling since arriving at the High King’s court. How long he wandered there he did not know. They had come to Vanyamar at midmorning and already the sun was dipping down towards the west. Glorfindel found himself unable to tear himself away or even care that he had been effectively abandoned to his own devices by the High King. He was too entranced by the beauty surrounding him to feel concern.

He was bending over a particularly exquisite bloom, a flower he did not know. Deep violet it was with tinges of rose near the outer edges of the petals. The stamen was a brilliant yellow-orange and its fragrance was sweet without being overpowering. He was sniffing the flower when he heard someone approach.

"What are you doing here?" a light voice enquired. Glorfindel straightened to find an elleth staring at him in consternation.

He bowed. "I am here at the High King’s request, my lady."

The elf-maid gave him a skeptical look. She stood a little shorter than himself, her hair the color of ripened wheat, her eyes a cornflower blue. She was dressed finely but simply and carried a garden basket full of fresh-cut blooms.

"Are you kin?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "Nay, lady, for all that my hair is as golden as yours, I am Noldo."

"Hmmph," was the only comment the elleth gave, frowning slightly.

"Does my lady disapprove?" Glorfindel asked teasingly. He suspected that she must be some relation of the High King, perhaps a niece, and wondered if she were kin to the haughty Lady Tinwetariel as well. It would be just his luck to meet another high-born lady who despised him because of his history.

"What’s your name, seldo?" she suddenly asked.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at the form of address. It was insulting on many levels and he couldn’t begin to list them all.

"His name, hinya, is Glorfindel, and he is no seldo, least of all to you."

Both Glorfindel and the elleth turned to see someone coming towards them. It was no one Glorfindel recognized, but the elleth apparently did.

"What do you mean, Cousin?"

Glorfindel saw an elven lady, as fair-haired as all the Vanyar were. She had a merry smile and there was something familiar about her. She ignored the elleth’s question, her eyes on Glorfindel.

"Well met, my lord," the lady said with a brief but correct curtsey. "My brother has told me much about you and I am honored to finally meet you."

"Your brother, lady?"

"Arafinwë is my brother. I am Findis, oldest daughter of Finwë and Indis."

Glorfindel gave Findis a low bow. "The honor is entirely mine, lady."

Findis then turned to the elleth who had stood there looking petulant at being ignored. "I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced, my dear. This is Lord Glorfindel, who presently resides in my brother’s court. My lord may I make you known to my cousin, the Lady Alassiel Intarioniel. I believe you’ve already met her anamillë, the Lady Tinwetariel." There was just a hint of mischief in Findis’ eyes.

Glorfindel started and stared at the elleth looking at him so haughtily. "That figures," he said under his breath, then, remembering the small piece of parchment in his pocket, he gave the elleth a bow. "Lady Alassiel," he said properly, if somewhat cooly.

"Lord... Glorfindel, is it? A most unusual name. Surely you have a proper Quenya name."

"If I do, lady, I choose not to use it. Glorfindel is the name I prefer."

"Hmmph. Well... I suppose that’s all right, then," she said somewhat doubtfully.

"I’m so glad you approve, my lady." Glorfindel didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was pleased to see Alassiel blush.

Alassiel gave him an appraising look under lowered lashes and sighed. "Forgive me, my lord, I’ve been extremely rude. Perhaps we should start again." She gave him a proper curtsey. "I am pleased to make your acquaintaince, my lord Glorfindel. I hope your stay in Vanyamar will be a pleasant one and we can be friends."

Glorfindel could detect no sarcasm in the elleth’s words and concluded that she was actually being sincere. However, he still couldn’t resist one last jibe, remembering Tinwetariel’s attitude towards him. "And do you wish to be friends with one of the Reborn?"

Alassiel gave him a surprised look. "Oh, is that what you are? How wonderful!"

"Excuse me?" Glorfindel raised a skeptical eyebrow, noting that Findis was looking on in amusement.

Alassiel nodded brightly. "Oh yes. My atar is in Mandos even now. Someday he’ll be reborn. I want to hear all about it, so I’ll know what to expect when he returns."

"I think that would be wonderful, my dear," Findis said smoothly. "I know the High King will be pleased that you and Lord Glorfindel have become friends."

Alassiel beamed. Glorfindel glowered. Being friends with Lady Tinwetariel’s granddaughter did not appeal to him. He suddenly had a glimmering of why the lady loathed him. None of the Vanyar who had died during the War of Wrath had yet been released from Mandos, according to Arafinwë. It must gall many of the elves of Aman to see rebel Noldor being reborn before faithful Vanyar. Lady Tinwetariel was obviously bitter over it, but her granddaughter did not seem to be and he wondered at it.

"Glorfindel?"

Glorfindel looked up into Findis’ eyes, full of concern, and smiled. "Your brother allows me to call him ‘Atar’."

Findis nodded, smiling in return. "Yes, he told me."

He gave her a sly grin, then. "So does that mean I get to call you ‘Auntie’?"

Her laughter was merry. "I would be honored... Nephew." She took him by the shoulders and planted a kinsman’s kiss upon his cheek and he returned the gesture. "Now, I was asked by Uncle Ingwë to escort you back to his study, my lord."

Glorfindel nodded. "Then we shouldn’t keep the High King waiting." He allowed Findis to take his arm and lead him back through the gardens.

Alassiel trailed behind them, uninvited and presently forgotten.

****

Nénuvar: Pool of lilies.

Seldo: The etymology of this word is unclear. It possibly means "child", and in this case is translated as "boy", a rather insulting word under the circumstances.

Anamillë: Grandmother.

Note on Ingwë’s family: I have based Ingwë’s family tree on the reading found in Laws and Customs of the Eldar, HoMe X, in particular, §10 and the footnote to §27. Here, Indis is Ingwë’s sister rather than his niece. Below is a partial genealogy of Ingwë’s family which will feature prominently in this story:

Ingwë = Elindis           Indis = Finwë                        Ingoldo = Tinwetariel

   Ingwion (son)             Findis = Valandur                     †Intarion = Lirulin

   Indil (daughter)          Fingolfin (Ñolofinwë)                          Alassiel

                                    Finvain                                                                    

                                    Finarfin (Arafinwë) = Eärwen, dau. of Olwë of Alqualondë

                                                            Finrod (Findaráto)

                                    Faniel

Names that are underlined are Original Characters.

†Presently residing in Mandos