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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

68: The Hunt

Sador paid little attention to where they were going as they made their way past the mansions of the Valar and headed towards Eldamas, intent only on being reunited with his gwador. Arafinwë had to physically rein him in, grabbing his horse’s headstall at one point.

"We must leave the horses here, yonya," the King said when they came into a particular courtyard. "Come. Dismount and take a moment’s ease while I determine where Findaráto is."

"He said he would be at Lord Oromë’s mansion," Sador said as he reluctantly dismounted. "Laurendil told me."

"And that was some days ago, youngling," Laurendil said as he dismounted as well. "He and Prince Ingwion may well be somewhere else by now. It will not take long to find out."

Thus it was that the patrons of the Laughing Vala were awarded with the sight of the Noldóran entering the establishment with a full retinue of warriors. Even Sador had been given appropriate battle dress, though Laurendil had politely refused it when offered.

"My allegiance is to Lord Irmo now," he had told Arafinwë. "I am a healer and will not take up arms again save in defense. Yet, your son has my life and so I will stand by him and do whatever he requires of me."

Arafinwë had not been sure what Laurendil had meant, though he remembered the words this ellon had spoken to Findaráto upon their reunion. When Sador had explained the significance of his friend’s words, Arafinwë had looked upon the Noldo in wonder.

"You gave my son such an oath?"

Laurendil had nodded. "As has my wife only recently, though Findaráto wanted to refuse her. Only with the intervention of the Valar did he accept her life into his keeping."

Now, Laurendil stood by Arafinwë, the only person in his party not in battle dress, yet those looking on noticed the strange front braids and the fell light in the ellon’s eyes and did not doubt that perhaps this one was more dangerous than all the other warriors combined.

The innkeeper was solicitous towards Arafinwë and, when asked, acknowledged that Lord Findaráto and Prince Ingwion had taken rooms at the inn.

"But they have not been seen for two days now, my lord," the innkeeper told them. "I was given a message to be delivered to a Lord Laurendil from Lord Findaráto, though." The innkeeper produced a scrap of parchment which he handed to Laurendil when the ellon identified himself.

Laurendil read the contents of the note. "We are to meet them at the Máhanaxar an hour before sunset on the day we arrive," he told Arafinwë.

"That’s a good three hours from now," protested Sador. "What kind of game are they playing?"

"Hush, yonya," Arafinwë said, taking Sador into his embrace and giving him a quick hug. "If Lord Oromë has declared a Hunt, we must follow the directives precisely. We will take rooms here or elsewhere and refresh ourselves before going to the Ring of Doom."

So it was that the innkeeper of the Laughing Vala found himself with a full house. Rooms were found for them all, though several of the guards ended up taking rooms in another inn nearby, for the Laughing Vala was not overly large and Arafinwë refused to evict the other patrons.

"I will not force others to leave on my account," he told the innkeeper firmly. "I would sooner sleep in a hayloft than see others thrown out for no other reason than that I might need their room."

Sador chafed at the seeming delay and Laurendil had to make him sit down and eat something. "A warrior never passes up the opportunity to eat a hot meal and to rest, youngling," the older elf said with a smile so as to remove the sting from his reprimand. "I do not understand what this Hunt is, but I do know that your gwador takes it very seriously. Never have I seen such a fell look upon him, not even in the midst of the Dagor Bragollach."

"I just hope Glorfindel is well," Sador admitted as he took a sip of meat broth. "Why has there been no word from his kidnappers?"

No one had any answer to that.

****

This time, as they made their way through Valmar, Sador paid more attention to their route and found himself suitably impressed by the city, though he did not permit himself to dawdle as their party made their way down the Landamallë, intent as he was on reaching the Máhanaxar. He did, however, slow down enough to look into the courtyard fronting Lord Námo’s mansion when Arafinwë pointed it out to him. He gazed at the mansion with interest and, Arafinwë noted in surprise, with longing. He had to pull the younger elf away.

"Come, child, we must not be late," he admonished Sador and the ellon nodded and followed the King through the west gate.

Soon they were approaching the Ezellohar and everyone stood for a moment in awe. Arafinwë bowed to the Trees and the others followed suit. Then they were passing into the Ring of Doom.

"Finrod!" Sador cried and raced across the intervening space into his gwador’s arms, paying little heed to anyone or anything else.

"Sador, gwador nîn," Finrod said as he looked upon his brother and noticed the missing braid, "what has happened to you?"

"Nothing of import," Sador said with an impish grin. "I decided to start a new fashion trend."

Finrod gave the younger ellon a strange look and then glanced up to see his atar approaching with Laurendil by his side and a contingent of well-armed guards behind them. "Atar! What are you doing here?"

Ararfinwë gave his firstborn an appraising look. "Am I to sit idly by when one of my children is missing? I lost the children of my body to my half-brother’s madness, I will not lose the children of my heart to the madness of others. Yours is not the only conspiracy afoot, my son."

Finrod blushed and gave his atar a bow. "Forgive me, lord. I was just surprised to see you."

"Welcome, Cousin," Ingwion said, moving to embrace Arafinwë and giving him a kinsman’s kiss. "I am glad you have decided to join in the Hunt. The more the merrier."

"It has been long and long since last I joined in the Hunt, Ingwion, but I would not miss this for anything. Glorfindel is precious to me, no less than Findaráto or even you. How is your atar?"

"Well enough, I suppose. I’m afraid he’s not very happy with the Valar right now, but there is no time to explain."

Arafinwë gave his older cousin a searching look but nodded his head in acquiescence. "Then we will postpone your explanation until later. I must needs consult with my uncle on a grave matter anyway."

Finrod introduced Sador to Ingwion and the older ellon gave the younger elf a warm greeting. "If you are my cousin’s otorno, then you are mine as well," Ingwion said and gave Sador a kinsman’s kiss, which Sador returned shyly.

Then, and only then, did Sador realize that two of the Valar and several Maiar were there as well. One of the Valar was Lord Námo who looked at him with a strange expression that left the ellon feeling nervous.

"You handled yourself well, child," the Lord of Mandos finally said, speaking quietly. "I am well pleased with you."

Sador positively glowed with the Vala’s praise. Námo turned to Oromë. "I will leave you now, my brother. Happy hunting." Then he was gone. Oromë looked upon the elves standing before him and smiled.

"Our quarry is not one of the fell creatures of my Fallen Brother that range in the wastes of Valinor or in Endórë, but other elves who would disrupt the Sérë Valaron."

"But what about Glorfindel?" Sador demanded. "Why aren’t we looking for him?"

"Hush, child," Arafinwë admonished him gently. "Do not interrupt Lord Oromë."

"Nay, Pityahuan," Oromë countered with an indulgent smile. "Let the child ask his questions. It is how he will learn. Come here, Sador." The Vala gestured and Sador came to stand before him. Oromë placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me very carefully, child," Oromë said quietly. "I do not call a Hunt on a whim, and when I do there are grave consequences for all involved, Hunter and Hunted alike. Glorfindel is not the Hunted, but the bait. Yet, I assure you he is well and will return to you when the time is proper for him to do so. In the meantime, you will remain at my side while your other brother and his cousin lead the Hunt."

"I do have one question of my own, my lord," Arafinwë said with a respectful bow.

"Ask your question then," Oromë commanded with a nod.

"Why was I not informed of any of this immediately?"

It was Ingwion who answered. "Lord Manwë refused to allow me to leave Valmar or to send a message to either Atar or you. He made me wait an entire day before he allowed me to send a message but warned me I could only send one and it had to be to the right person." Ingwion paused and grimaced at the memory. "I was at a loss to whom to send my message but Elessairon, who was there when we learned of the Hunt, suggested Findaráto was the right person, remembering that he and Glorfindel were otornor. Thus it was that I sent the message to your son rather than to you."

Arafinwë nodded. "You did well, as did Elessairon. He is an intelligent ellon and I have high hopes for him." He then turned to Oromë with another bow. "Thank you, my lord, for indulging me."

"It was not an indulgence, Pityahuan," Oromë said with a smile. "Now, let us begin the Hunt."

"Wait!" Sador exclaimed. "Where is Elessairon? Will he not join us?"

Ingwion shook his head. "Lord Manwë would not allow it, for he is not yet of age and my atar is not here to give his permission. He and the others who accompanied Glorfindel and me to Valmar are guests of Lord Manwë for the moment, which is why you did not see them at the inn."

"I imagine that did not sit well with young Elessairon," Arafinwë said with a grin.

"Nor with our cousin, Alassiel, believe it or not," Ingwion said with a laugh, "for she, too, wished to join us but Lady Varda would not hear of it and so she sits by the Elentári’s side and stews."

"She is a fierce warrior-maid," Oromë said with a small smile, "but now is not the time for her. That time will come soon enough. Now let us begin. Ingwion, you will speak of all you know of the events leading up to Glorfindel’s disappearance. Begin with the Song."

Ingwion took a deep breath and then proceeded to tell what had happened in Vanyamar when the Valar sang an ancient lullaby. Anar sank into the West and the stars blazed forth in the night sky before he finished his tale, showing them Glorfindel’s knife and pointing to where it had been found.

"There was blood on it, though I do not know whose," he concluded. "I took the knife to Lord Manwë and threw it at his feet."

Arafinwë raised an eyebrow at that and Ingwion blushed, though it was hard to see it in the dark with only the stars illuminating them. "I was... upset," the ellon explained lamely and Arafinwë snorted.

"The last time anyone was that upset with Lord Manwë, I spent two months in solitude contemplating my actions."

"Solitude! You?" Finrod asked, his eyes wide with surprise. The other elves looked equally stunned by Arafinwë’s words.

Arafinwë nodded, casting a wry glance at Oromë. "It was very... restful."

The Vala laughed outright at that. "Indeed. Nienna said as much."

"Was there no trail you could find?" Laurendil asked Ingwion, steering the conversation back to the original subject.

The Vanyarin prince shook his head. "There was a storm and all traces were lost. I think they headed north, but I cannot be sure and..." here he cast a glance at the Vala who stood beside him smiling serenely, "and the Valar are not forthcoming with clues."

Oromë shook his head. "This is your Hunt, young Ingwion. You must find such clues as there may be. I only provide the means for you to do so. The rest is up to you and your companions."

"Who benefits from Glorfindel’s disappearance?" Sador asked. "They kidnapped him for a reason. Why has there been no word?"

No one could answer that and the conclusions they drew were troubling. Ingwion especially did not like where his thoughts led him and he muttered a particularly vicious oath under his breath. "There is one possibility, though I hate to think on it," he said.

"What is it, Cousin?" Arafinwë asked.

Ingwion looked up at the Noldóran, his expression bleak. "Ingoldo."

"Even now?" Arafinwë queried, then sighed. "Tinwetariel was very hostile towards Glorfindel right from the beginning."

"If either is involved in this..." Ingwion stopped with a grimace. "There would be no ransom demand. Glorfindel would be taken for the sole purpose of removing him from the scene... permanently."

"You mean... kill him?" Sador whispered, appalled.

Ingwion shook his head. "They would not dare go that far, I don’t think."

"Ingoldo is many things but a Kinslayer is not one of them," Arafinwë replied firmly. "So now the question is, do we look for Glorfindel or do we go after Ingoldo?"

"Are we sure that he is involved?" Finrod asked. "I remember him, of course, but I do not recall him being a troublemaker."

"He has been a thorn in my atar’s side for some time now," Ingwion said, though he did not bother to elaborate.

"He fears you," Arafinwë said. "That can be used to our advantage. If he is not involved it will be easy enough to ascertain."

"So do we go to Vanyamar?" Finrod asked, but Ingwion shook his head.

"He will not be there. Every year at this time he goes to the royal hunting lodge."

Arafinwë raised an eyebrow. "How appropriate." Then he cast a glance at Lord Oromë. "And how coincidental."

Oromë shrugged. "If you believe in coincidence, Pityahuan."

Arafinwë stared at the Vala for a moment, then nodded, turning to his guards and dismissing them. "For I shall join the Hunt with my son and will be under Lord Oromë’s protection." The guards were reluctant to depart but knew better than to argue and soon they were gone.

Oromë looked upon the five remaining elves with satisfaction. "Let us ride then." As he spoke he led them all to where several horses were waiting for them outside the Ring. The elves and Maiar mounted. Oromë leapt upon his steed Nahar, shining silver in the night.

"Where do we go?" Sador asked.

"North," Ingwion replied.

Then Oromë raised the Valaróma to his lips and sounded it. All who heard its notes felt their blood burn as if with fire and they were caught up in the thrill of the chase. They rode north across the plains of Valinor, moving like a swift mist under starlight.

The Hunt had begun.

****

Sérë Valaron: The Peace of the Valar; similar in concept to the Pax Romana. However, it is not imposed upon the people of Aman by military might but is a natural consequence of the divine nature of the Valar themselves.

Pityahuan: Little Hound; an epessë or nickname given to Arafinwë by Manwë during his apprenticeship with the Elder King after Arafinwë turned away from the Rebellion to take up the kingship of the Noldor.





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