33: Connecting the Dots

They made their way back through the garden to the High King’s study. Ingwë was alone and Glorfindel felt somewhat bereft that Olórin had not stayed long enough to say good-bye. Ingwë noticed the crestfallen look on the ellon’s face but chose to ignore it.

"Here is Lord Glorfindel, Uncle," Findis said with a curtsey. Glorfindel bowed and Alassiel gave her own curtsey to her great-Uncle.

"Thank you, my dear," Ingwë said. "Would you leave us, please?"

"Of course, Uncle," Findis replied. "Valandur and I will see you tonight at the feast. Come along, Alassiel." She herded the younger elleth from the room. Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief. Ingwë hid a smile.

"I see you’ve met Alassiel."

Glorfindel nodded. "I don’t think she quite believed me when I told her I was in the garden by your leave, Sir."

Ingwë chuckled. "Alassiel is somewhat opinionated at times, but she has a good heart and isn’t afraid to admit when she is wrong." He gave Glorfindel a shrewd look.

Glorfindel nodded again in acknowledgment, wondering if the High King somehow knew what had passed between him and his grand-niece.

"Good. Now come sit down and we will talk." Ingwë gestured towards a chair and Glorfindel complied. For a long moment they sat in silence. Glorfindel tried to act nonchalant, but didn’t quite pull it off. Ingwë, for his part, was relaxed and self-assured.

"You never did answer my question," he finally said.

Glorfindel started in confusion. "My lord?"

"Is it true you fought a valarauco?"

Glorfindel stared at the High King for a moment. "You called me Balrog Slayer before your court. You already know the answer to your question."

"Indeed. But I wanted to hear it from you."

Glorfindel felt confused and shook his head, afraid he was being played at for some reason. "Why..."

"Child, I never do anything without a reason," Ingwë said in a kind voice. "I know we’ve just met, but will you trust me enough to believe that I mean you no discourtesy? Nor am I amusing myself at your expense."

"It’s just... everything is so confusing... Atar... I mean, King Arafinwë..."

Ingwë held up a hand in interruption. "If my nephew has seen fit to give you his permission to call him ‘Atar’, child, I see no reason why you cannot continue doing so. I certainly have no objections. Indeed I am pleased that Arafinwë has opened his heart to you. It gives me hope that he is finding healing at last."

Glorfindel nodded, though he wasn’t too sure what the High King meant. "Atar and Amillë have been so kind and they... they don’t laugh when I make mistakes... or look down at me because... and then when Lady Tinwetariel...." He found he couldn’t go on, whether from embarrassment for sounding like a petulant child or from anger, he couldn’t tell.

Ingwë frowned at the mention of his brother Ingoldo’s wife. She was typical of many of the Vanyar who found it incomprehensible that Noldor who had defied the Valar were not only allowed to return to Valinor, albeit only as far as Tol Eressëa, but that they were being released from Mandos before faithful Vanyar who had died in a war not of their making, sacrificing themselves because the Valar had asked them to. He understood the reason but had realized that imparting that information to his people would have only exacerbated their resentment, and so he waited and trusted in Manwë’s and Námo’s decisions on the matter.

"I’m sorry, my lord," Glorfindel said. "I didn’t mean..."

Ingwë looked up at the ellon and realized Glorfindel had misinterpreted his silence. "Nay, child. You have done nothing that needs forgiveness. I was merely thinking." He stood up and Glorfindel followed suit, still feeling uncertain.

"I-I don’t want any special treatment just because I’m..."

Ingwë gave the ellon a warm smile. "Don’t worry, yonya. I have no intention of embarrassing you that far. I will be interviewing each of Arafinwë’s people to ascertain the extent of their knowledge, their aptitudes and weaknesses, so I have a better idea what each needs from me. You were just conveniently the first."

Glorfindel nodded, feeling relieved. "Sorry. I’m being silly, I know. People either don’t want to hear about my life or they want to hear about it for all the wrong reasons."

"Then let us walk in the garden and you may tell me about your life in Ondolindë for all the right reasons."

Glorfindel looked at the High King doubtfully. "I’m not even sure I know what the right reasons are myself."

Ingwë smiled and placed a hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "Well, I do, and the right reason is because I am genuinely interested. Come, let us walk and you will tell me about Turucáno and how he ruled Ondolindë and your role in his government."

So they walked and Glorfindel found himself telling the High King about his life in Beleriand. At first he was somewhat hesitant and suddenly shy, as if somehow in telling about his daily life in the seven-tiered city the High King would find him too ordinary and uninteresting or worse, consider his lordship a sham with no real substance. When Ingwë offered no disapproval, though, he relaxed enough to be more forthcoming in details.

Ingwë said little, listening intently to the ellon describing his elevation to the Lordship of the House of the Golden Flower after the death of its previous lord in a skirmish with orcs when Turgon was still residing in Vinyamar, the sense of pride and awe he had felt when he had taken his oath before Turgon. He stood silently, gazing at nothing, when Glorfindel told him of the coming of Tuor and the birth of Eärendil. He wept when Glorfindel described his final battle with the balrog and held the ellon close to him.

Glorfindel did not weep, having gotten past all that, but he found himself feeling comforted by Ingwë’s embrace and some of the hurt and resentment he had felt earlier was assuaged.

"I’m sorry, child," Ingwë finally said, still holding Glorfindel close to him. "It grieves me that any of you had to suffer as you did."

Glorfindel shrugged. "It was a long time ago, my lord, and our suffering was of our own making."

"Indeed."

Glorfindel turned in Ingwë’s embrace, shocked to see Lord Námo standing there. Both he and Ingwë bowed to the Lord of Mandos. Ingwë did not address Námo, for he realized the Vala was intent on Glorfindel, who squirmed a bit under his gaze.

"Come here, Glorfindel," Námo said quietly.

Glorfindel gulped, not sure what he had done wrong this time, but obeyed the Vala without hesitation, trembling only slightly in anticipation of punishment. Námo gazed at the ellon for a moment, solemn and reserved, then he reached out and stroked the elf’s hair, attempting to soothe him.

"I want you to listen to me carefully, Glorfindel," Námo finally said. "I know what you are thinking. Under no circumstances are you to attempt to climb Taniquetil. Now is not the time. While you are here in Ingwë’s court you will remain in Vanyamar or you may travel to Valmar, but you will not be permitted to set foot on Taniquetil itself. Do not even think of disobeying me in this, yonya. You will not enjoy the consequences."

Glorfindel found himself suddenly on his knees though he had no idea how he had gotten there. He looked up at Námo and nodded mutely, fear in his eyes and suddenly he was no longer in Ingwë’s garden but back on the dark shore of Valinor, trudging after Turucáno, the silent Vala standing on the headland above them, watching, judging, and he started screaming and weeping. Strong hands pulled him up and he was embraced.

"Glorfindel! It’s all right, child. You’re safe." He heard the words but didn’t understand them. He only knew the terror of what he was feeling. It was long moments before he even felt the hand rubbing his back and he found himself once again in Ingwë’s garden, bright sunlight warming him, butterflies dancing in slow circles above the flowers nearby. When he came to himself, he was surprised to find that he was in Ingwë’s arms rather than Námo’s. He decided he wasn’t in any hurry to disengage himself from the High King’s embrace.

"Would you like to tell me what just happened?" Ingwë demanded without bothering to be polite about it and Glorfindel realized that the question wasn’t addressed to him. Apparently long association with the Valar had given Ingwë some lattitude and Námo did not take offense. He also did not answer the High King's question. Instead he forced Glorfindel to turn around and look at him.

"Tell me where you were."

Glorfindel shook his head and closed his eyes, just wanting to be left alone. He was suddenly tired of High Kings and Valar and everything in between. A deep longing for Gondolin smote him and he began weeping again.

Námo stroked Glorfindel’s hair. "No, Glorfindel, do not shy away from the memory. It’ll be less painful if you face it. Tell me where you were."

Glorfindel opened his eyes and there was such desolation in them that Námo nearly wept himself. "You weren’t laughing," the ellon whispered and Námo realized what had happened. He moved towards a nearby bench and motioned for the two elves to join him, Glorfindel sitting between Vala and High King, looking forlorn and a bit lost.

"No, I wasn’t," Námo said quietly after they were all seated. "You could not see, but I, too, was weeping. All the Valar were, for we knew far better than you what you would be facing."

Glorfindel stared out into the garden without really seeing it anymore. "I wanted to turn back."

"I know," Námo whispered gently, rubbing the ellon’s back to comfort him.

"Why didn’t you?" Ingwë asked quietly.

Glorfindel looked at the High King. "Turgon would not give us his leave to depart if we so desired."

"What!?" Ingwë stood up in shock.

Námo nodded. "Turucáno has much to answer for, not the least of which for his arrogance."

Glorfindel blushed for his lord’s sake at the Vala’s words and felt he had to defend him. "He was a good ruler."

Námo smiled slightly at Glorfindel coming to Turgon’s defense. "Indeed he was, for all his other faults. You have no need to feel shame for giving him your loyalty, Glorfindel."

"But to deny his followers the right to turn back!" Ingwë protested, sitting down again.

Námo only shook his head. "Arrogance was always Turucáno’s failing. It was his arrogance that brought destruction to Gondolin... and your death, Glorfindel."

The ellon started and paled visibly. Both Námo and Ingwë looked at him sympathetically.

"Yes, child," Námo continued. "Gondolin’s fall and your death and the deaths of all who perished that night and afterwards must be laid at Turgon’s feet. In his arrogance in ignoring Tuor’s message from my brother Ulmo, Turgon forgot that Gondolin was never built for his benefit, but for another’s."

"Whose, then?" Glorfindel asked.

The Lord of Mandos shook his head. "No longer important now, for Gondolin lies buried under the waves, never to be seen again."

"So you’re saying my death was in vain?" Glorfindel asked after a moment of silence.

"No, Glorfindel. Unnecessary, perhaps, but never in vain. Do not belittle yourself in that manner. Gondolin’s fall is not your fault."

"I could have convinced Turgon..."

"Nay, child," Námo actually smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "Turgon was not your responsibility. Put all thought of blame from your mind."

Glorfindel reluctantly nodded, still looking pale and unsettled. Ingwë looked at him in sympathy.

"What happened, child? Where did your memories take you?"

It was Námo who answered the High King. "He was in the past, Ingwë, experiencing anew the terror he felt as he passed me on the way to the North, believing himself forever damned. But that’s not true, is it, child? You know differently now, don’t you?"

Glorfindel nodded. "Why did it hurt so much?"

"You made an emotional connection. It was overwhelming, like coming upon bright light after being in darkness for so long. Painful, but not to the death."

"Will...will it happen again?"

"Perhaps. I do not know. Somehow a connection was made and you experienced the scene as if for the first time. It was too overwhelming for you and so you collapsed."

"There will be more such incidents?" Ingwë asked with some concern.

Námo actually shrugged. "I do not know. Each case with the Reborn is different. Some never regain emotional connections with their past. Glorfindel will have to learn to deal with any such connections if and as they come."

The Vala rose. "I must leave you now. Remember what I said about Taniquetil, Glorfindel."

"Is this ban directed only at me, my lord, or are all the Reborn forbidden from sullying the Halls of the Valar with their presence?" Glorfindel asked with some heat.

Námo sat down again and shared a look with Ingwë who shrugged, then turned back to Glorfindel. "Child, your bitterness under the circumstances is understandable, but entirely misplaced. I never said you were forbidden to come to Taniquetil, only that now is not the time to do so. You will not be welcomed if you tried."

"But..."

"There is a time and place for everything, Glorfindel," Námo continued over the ellon’s protest. "Now, no more questions will I answer." The Lord of Mandos leaned over and kissed Glorfindel on the brow, stilling any protest the ellon might have wished to utter. Glorfindel suddenly felt lethargic and with a sigh leaned against Ingwë, who wrapped an arm around him in support. Námo rose again and walked away, fading into the fabric of the garden. As the Vala disappeared Ingwë realized that Glorfindel had fallen asleep. The High King did not mind. He sat there deep in thought for the longest time, quietly rocking the sleeping ellon, rousing him only when the chamberlain came to remind the High King that he had yet to get ready for the upcoming feast.