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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

51: Return to Lórien

The journey to Lórien was both joyful and extremely uncomfortable for Finrod. It was joyful, in that he had a chance to renew his friendship with Laurendil; uncomfortable, because of Laurendil. The former ranger of Dorthonion alternated between being furious and depressed throughout the entire trip and even Manwen could not lift his mood. Finrod had the urge to order Laurendil to smile, just to see if he could get away with it, but decided against it. Laurendil needed to come to terms with things on his own. In the meantime, Finrod made his acquaintance with Manwen, and the two spent several hours speaking Sindarin about the people and places they remembered in Beleriand.

"I fled Doriath when it fell and met Glorendil along the way," Manwen said. "In spite of everything, we somehow found each other there on the edge of ruin and fell in love. After the War of Wrath we decided to travel east into Eriador and eventually settled in a place called Lórinand, a kingdom of Silvan elves, which lies on the other side of the Hithaeglir."

"When did you sail?" Finrod asked.

"Only a couple of years ago," Laurendil said, joining the conversation. "I-I couldn’t stop dreaming of the sea and Manwen had been experiencing the sea-longing for longer than I."

"You resisted for so long, husband," Manwen said sorrowfully, "and in the end you were barely conscious."

"I did not want to leave Ennorath," Laurendil said flatly. "There was nothing for me here. There still isn’t."

"Not even your family?" Finrod asked gently.

Laurendil did not answer and Finrod let it go. He recalled that Rialcar had been one of the elves who refused to go into Exile. Perhaps the parting between son and father had not been as amicable as his own parting with Arafinwë had been. He had detected a certain coolness between Laurendil and Rialcar when they were together, though there was no outright hostility on either elf’s part.

They stopped for a couple of days in Valmar. Manwen was awed by the city, Laurendil bored. He refused to accompany them on their tour of Valmar and Eldamas, electing to remain at the inn until they were ready to resume their journey. Thus, nearly a week and a half after leaving Tirion, they arrived before the gates of Lórien.

Lord Irmo was there to meet them as they dismounted from their horses, welcoming them with a warm smile and warmer words. Finrod greeted the Vala courteously, Manwen shyly, and Laurendil not at all, even going so far as to refuse to look at the Lord of Lórien. If Irmo was upset by the Noldo’s lack of manners, he did not show it. Finrod, on the other hand, had had enough of Laurendil’s sulking.

"Laurendil, you forget yourself!" he barked, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

Manwen stared at him in shock, never having known him when he was King of Nargothrond. Their escort looked suitably impressed by their prince. Laurendil went white and then abruptly turned around and walked quickly away back down the road. Manwen started to follow, but Finrod held her back.

"Stay here, all of you," he commanded the other elves and went after the nearly fleeing ellon. "Laurendil! Hold!" he shouted and the former ranger stumbled to a halt, obedience to a superior, and most especially to his king, too ingrained not to heed Finrod’s command. He stood there in dejected silence waiting for Finrod to approach.

"You disappoint me, cáno," Finrod said. "I expect better from my people." He spoke quietly yet there was the sting of a reprimand in his voice. "I trust you have an explanation."

For a moment Laurendil could only stare ahead, biting his lips. "I can’t," he whispered in anguish.

"Can’t what?"

"I can’t... do this. Please, aranya... don’t make me..."

"Laurendil, it was not I who summoned you here," Finrod said sympathetically. "There is nothing I can do to gainsay Lord Irmo." He paused, giving the other elf time to collect himself. Laurendil still would not look at him. "What is it, otornya?" he asked, taking Laurendil by the shoulders.

Laurendil shook his head. "I fled Aman to escape... from Them... from my atar."

"Why?"

But Laurendil would not or could not answer and Finrod had to let it go. Instead, he stepped back and gave the other elf a stern look.

"Well, you are here now, Laurendil. Best to get on with it. Come. It isn’t wise to keep a Vala waiting."

With that, he took Laurendil by the arm and brought him back to Manwen and Lord Irmo. The escort, he saw, had been dismissed and were no doubt glad to be elsewhere. Manwen gave her husband a kiss on the cheek to which he did not respond. Lord Irmo gave him a sympathetic look.

"It is not as bad as you think, Laurendil," the Vala said kindly. Then he addressed them all. "My people will see you all settled. Spend some time enjoying the gardens and relaxing. We will speak again in a few days."

Then the Vala was simply not there and two of the Lóriennildi came forward. One of them led Laurendil and Manwen away, along with their bags, the other turned out to be a friend of Finrod’s.

"Eärnur," Finrod said, giving the Lóriennildo a smile as they embraced and kissed in greeting. "It’s good to see a familiar face."

"Welcome, Findaráto," the Telerin elf said. "I’m glad to see you again. Are you well, meldonya?"

"I am well, thank you." Finrod said as they walked through a series of groves which were used as residences for the elves who resided in Lórien, whether as servants or guests.

Eärnur led him into a grove that he recognized. "Why, this is where I lived before," Finrod exclaimed.

"Lord Irmo thought you would appreciate staying somewhere familiar," Eärnur said with a smile. "Lord Laurendil and Lady Manwen are in the blue pavilion two groves to the right of this one."

Finrod looked about the pavilion, remembering his last stay there, when two other ellyn lived with him, two Sindar who had been somewhat in awe of him, much to his discomfort. He had left Lórien before them, and now wondered if they had yet been released. He would have to find out while he was there. Now, however, only one bed was evident. Eärnur plopped Finrod’s bags on the ground which was covered with rich carpets.

"I will leave you for now, meldonya," the Teler said. "We will catch up on news later."

Finrod nodded. "Thank you, Eärnur. I would like that."

The Telerin elf bowed briefly, leaving Finrod alone with his thoughts.

****

For the next two days Finrod wandered through Lórien, reacquainting himself with the place, greeting those among the Lóriennildi whom he remembered from his previous stay there. He saw nothing of either Laurendil or Manwen during that time nor did he seek them out, respecting their privacy. He was finishing the evening meal on the third day when Eärnur came to his pavilion to announce that Lord Irmo had summoned him. He followed the Lóriennildo towards Lórellin where Estë’s island was. Near the shore, lit with colored lanterns, he saw a pavilion opened on three sides. Chairs were arranged around a table where there were plates of fruit and cheese and a decanter of wine. A colorfully woven carpet covered the ground underneath.

Finrod was the first to arrive but he was shortly joined by Laurendil and Manwen, escorted by a Lóriennildë. She and Eärnur left them once Eärnur assured them that Lord Irmo would be there presently. Laurendil seemed more relaxed than he had been, but his eyes still had a haunted look to them and he would not meet Finrod’s gaze. Manwen gave the Noldorin prince a deep curtsey.

"Please, my lady," Finrod protested, "there is no need for such formality. Here, I am simply Findaráto, or if you will, Finrod."

"I see you are as humble as ever, Arafinwion."

The elves turned to see the Lord of Lórien approach and they gave him their obeisance, though Finrod noticed that Laurendil bowed somewhat reluctantly.

"Humility has nothing to do with it, my lord," Finrod rejoined. "I just prefer to be Findaráto these days."

"Hmm," Irmo said, seemingly unconvinced. "Why don’t we be seated?" He gestured towards the chairs and soon they were all finding a seat while the Vala poured them some wine.

As they were sipping the wine, Irmo gave the three elves an appraising look, tinged with humor. "I imagine you are all anxious to learn what is expected of you as my apprentices."

Laurendil flinched at the Vala’s words and Manwen went pale, though her eyes were bright with anticipation. She, at least, wanted to be there. Finrod simply stared at Lord Irmo in disbelief, suddenly aware that the Vala had included him in that statement.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

Irmo gave Finrod a wry smile. "You didn’t think I asked you here on a whim, did you, child?"

"But...but..."

Now Laurendil smiled grimly, the first real emotion he had exhibited since arriving in Lórien. "So now that the orc is on the other foot, aranya...."

Manwen sniggered at her husband’s words and Irmo raised an eyebrow, his amusement obvious. Finrod had no choice but to laugh.

"‘Orc on the other foot.’ Oh my. I haven’t heard that expression in... in ages."

"Rather colorful, to say the least," Irmo said, his smile deepening.

Finrod’s laughter died and he became sober. "I do not recall even being asked if I wished to be your apprentice, my lord."

"Sounds familiar," Finrod heard Laurendil mutter, but he decided to ignore his friend for the moment.

"I thought I was re-embodied so that I might take my proper place at my atar’s side," Finrod continued.

Irmo nodded. "Yes, well, plans change, as they say." The Vala held up a hand to forestall Finrod’s next words. "Child, you will find that often our expectations do not conform to reality. What you thought was your reason for being reborn is not the case. You were always meant to come to me."

"But why?" Finrod put his goblet on the table and stood up to face the Vala, his expression more confused than angry. In truth, he did not find the idea of becoming Lord Irmo’s apprentice objectionable, as Laurendil apparently did, but he was bewildered by it.

"You will be the first Reborn to become one of my Lóriennildi, Findaráto," Irmo said quietly. "You will learn to minister to other Reborn."

Finrod sat down, suddenly aware of the implications of Irmo’s words. He stared at nothing for a moment, then gave the Lord of Lórien a calculating look. "And the fact that I’m the son of the King of the Noldor doesn’t enter into it, does it?"

Irmo laughed lightly. "Why, not at all, child. Furthest thought from my mind."

Finrod sat back with a nod, willing to play the game as the Vala saw fit. Truly, he had no objections. He well remembered the care he had been given by many of the Lóriennildi in those early days of his re-embodiment and even remembered how he had toyed with the idea of joining them, thinking it was a worthy occupation for a one-time king of a lost kingdom who was uncertain of his reception by his family once he was released from Lórien.

He also remembered how some of those same Lóriennildi had treated him, and the other Reborn, and suddenly understood the deviousness of the Vala sitting before him. Yet, he still had doubts.

"W-will I have to remain here for all time then?"

Irmo shook his head. "Nay. Your apprenticeship will not extend that far, not even for the usual length of twenty-four years. You might say that I’m borrowing you temporarily, and I may not be the only Vala to whom you will be apprenticed over time. Your own atar was apprenticed to Lord Manwë for three years of the Trees after he returned to Tirion, for he had had little training in the art of rulership, being the youngest son."

Finrod raised an eyebrow at that but did not offer any other objections. Irmo turned his attention to the other two elves, speaking first to Manwen.

"Daughter, I know well your skills as a healer. Young Elerondo taught you well. Even here in Aman accidents will happen, especially among the young, who are heedless of any dangers. Yet, the greatest need is for healers of the fëa. Many who sail from the Thither Shores are wounded in spirit more than in body. I think you will find that your own experiences will help you to be sympathetic to those who come to us for help."

Manwen gave the Vala a shrewd look. "More sympathetic than those who have never experienced the horrors of war, my lord?"

Irmo nodded and smiled. "I think we understand each other, don’t we, my daughter?" Manwen nodded but did not return the Vala’s smile. Instead, she stared into her goblet, deep in thought.

The Vala then looked at Laurendil, who had retreated into sullen silence, and sighed. "And now, we come to you, my son."

Laurendil jumped up. "I am not your son! I will never be your son!" he practically screamed, throwing his goblet to the ground, staining the carpet red with wine. He stalked out of the pavilion, moving quickly towards the lake, while Finrod and Manwen sat in shocked silence.

Irmo merely sighed, then, without raising his voice he said, "Laurendil, stop."

Finrod saw the ellon fall on his knees by the shore of the lake. He wanted to go to his friend but Irmo shook his head. "Come back here, child," the Vala said, still speaking softly.

Laurendil did not move and Finrod could see he was struggling to resist Lord Irmo’s bidding. "Laurendil," Irmo said again and with a strangled sob Laurendil rose and stumbled back to the pavilion. Manwen stood then and gathered her husband into her arms. Irmo stood as well and placed a hand on Laurendil’s head.

"Why are you so afraid, child?" the Vala asked gently.

"I don’t know. I don’t know," was all Laurendil could say as he wept in Manwen’s arms. Finrod’s heart went out to him and he felt helpless to do anything to assuage his friend’s grief.

"Then, child," Irmo said sympathetically, "that will be your first task as my apprentice, to learn of your fears and to understand them." He gently pulled Laurendil out of Manwen’s embrace and forced the ellon to look at him. "You’ve been running away for too long, Laurendil — running from your atar... running from me... running from yourself. Time to stop running, son."

Laurendil did not answer, only nodded, his expression one of defeat. Then Irmo turned to Finrod. "Laurendil will be your first patient, Findaráto."

Finrod started at that. "But I don’t know the first thing..."

"Eärnur will assist you," Irmo said, countering Finrod’s protest. "You will start tomorrow." He then turned back to Laurendil and Manwen and gathered them both into his embrace, giving them both a kiss on the brow. "Go now, my children and rest. Tomorrow will be the start of a new life for you both. Do not be afraid, Laurendil. It is not as terrible a fate as you might think."

With that the Lord of Lórien was gone and three Lóriennildi were approaching the pavilion. Two of them took Laurendil and Manwen in hand, gently leading them away to their pavilion. The other was Eärnur, who smiled at Finrod.

"I understand we will be working together, meldonya," the Teler said as the two of them made their way back to Finrod’s pavilion.

Finrod sighed. "So it would seem."

"You do not sound particularly happy about it."

Finrod shook his head. "I am not. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am not as averse to the idea of being here as Laurendil, but I am a prince of the realm and have other duties. I cannot waste my days holding Laurendil’s hand... or anyone else’s for that matter."

Eärnur stopped, a frown on his face, and Finrod stopped as well. "Perhaps, in time, you will discover it is not as much of a waste of time as you might think, Findaráto."

"Perhaps," Finrod conceded reluctantly and they resumed their walk to the pavilion.

Eärnur bade Finrod good night at the entrance to the grove. Finrod readied himself for bed, then lay there staring at the ceiling of the pavilion. It was a long time before he was able to fall asleep.

****

Lórinand: Golden Valley. One of the earlier names for Lothlórien.

Cáno: Commander.

Elerondo: The Quenya equivalent of the Sindarin Elrond.

Note: Irmo mentions that Arafinwë was apprenticed to Manwë for "three years of the Trees". This was during the Darkening of Valinor, which lasted for five years of the Trees before Isil was launched. One year of the Trees is equivalent to 9.5 solar years, thus Arafinwë was Manwë’s apprentice for 28.5 years.





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