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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

84: Obedience is a Verb

Ingwion was fascinated by the beach. In the days that followed his abortive escape attempt, he continued to visit it. He thought he might be denied the privilege because of what he had done, but surprisingly (to him) Nienna had made no objections, merely warning him to be wary of the undertow if he went swimming and to keep his eye on the sea during low tide.

"The sea returns very quickly, so do not venture too far from the shore," she admonished him the next morning after the "Feast of Every Dish Known to Elfkind" as Niélë, the only other elf in residence, had called it. It turned out that EVERYTHING was a favorite dish of Ingwion, much to everyone’s amusement (except for Niélë) and Ingwion’s delight.

"Can I help it if I like food?" he had said with a smirk, not even bothering to apologize. Námo had laughed and Nienna had merely passed him a plate of mushroom tarts, smiling all the while.

Ingwion returned to the beach with Tiutalion once again his escort. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped the ellon from running onto the beach immediately.

"Heed Lady Nienna’s words, child," the Maia said gently but with authority. "The sea is treacherous, especially for one like yourself who is unused to its ways. Remember, when I call for you, you must come."

Ingwion nodded and then Tiutalion gave him a smile and a nod and he was off. At first he did nothing more than run barefoot across the wet black sand with the waves lapping his feet, turning back at the rockfall to run in the opposite direction. He reveled in the salt smell in the air and the feel of the ocean breeze on his face. The day was bright with sun glaring off the whitecaps that crashed onto the beach with a resounding roar, for a storm brewed somewhere out in the middle of the ocean, far from landfall.

After a while he stopped and stared out to sea, wondering if he dared take a swim. The sun was hot now and he was eager to enter the waters beyond the breakers but something, some niggling part of his mind, stayed him and he was content to strip and merely sit in the surf and let it roll over him until he was cooled before drying himself off and donning his clothes again. When Tiutalion called for him he came without any real reluctance, feeling suddenly hungry. The Maia greeted him with a smile and praised him for his obedience, which pleased Ingwion immensely, though he was not sure why.

The next time he went to the beach was at low tide and he marveled at how far out the water now was. Heeding Nienna’s warnings, he did not go any further out than the first sandbar, and that was far enough to make him feel somewhat nervous. From that vantage point, though, he could see around the cliffs at one end of the beach and the rockfall at the other end to where other beaches stretched along the coast. They looked inviting and though he no longer felt the need to escape, Ingwion sensed that those beaches were forbidden to him and so did not venture to pass either cliff or rockfall in his explorations.

And indeed, there was much to explore even in the small area allotted to him and he spent a happy hour or two finding seashells and admiring their beauty or coming across small pools where crabs dwelt. He even dug for clams but had no luck. So engrossed was he with exploring the sandbar that he quite forgot about Nienna’s warning until a seemingly errant wave swept over him. He looked up in sputtering shock but the water was still far out and looked no closer. He couldn’t understand where the wave had come from, and then another one hit him from out of nowhere.

Suddenly, with a frisson of something akin to fear, he knew and without hesitation began running towards the beach, which now seemed further away than he originally thought. The wet sand sucked at his feet, seeming to want to trap him but soon he reached the dry sand and collapsed in a boneless heap, gasping for breath. He watched with rising horror as the ocean came rushing toward him, running faster than any horse he knew. In seconds the sandbar he had been on was swallowed up and then breakers were crashing onto the beach. The sea had once again claimed its own.

"I see Lord Ulmo was looking out for you, child."

Ingwion looked up with a start to see Tiutalion standing next to him, a thin smile on his face, and Ingwion blushed at the mild reprimand he detected in the Maia’s words.

"I’m sorry," he said softly. "I’ll remember next time."

Tiutalion only nodded. "Time to come in, child." Ingwion stood up and meekly followed the Maia back to the house.

****

Every time he came to the beach Ingwion looked for his dolphin friends. He somehow knew that he would not be welcomed in the deeper waters without them, so he had to be content with going no further out than knee-deep and sitting in the surf, but how he longed to swim in the deeper waters with his friends. Yet, they came not and Ingwion soon despaired of ever seeing them again.

It was on the fifth day since coming to Nienna’s that he suffered a crisis that threatened to destroy the peace he was beginning to feel and the trust he was finally earning. The day before, the storm that had begun out in the middle of the ocean had finally reached them and Ingwion was forced to remain indoors, fretting with impatience. So it was with some relief that he awoke the next morning to calm seas and quickly made his way to the beach once Nienna gave her permission.

He had been on the beach for some time and it was now nearly noon. As usual, he had looked for the dolphins and, when he did not see them, he settled himself against the rockfall, idly watching the play of water swishing calmly around the base of the rocks. Then, a high squeaking noise filled the air and two dolphins jumped through the waters, beckoning him to join them.

Ingwion stood up with a glad cry and began stripping off his clothes as quickly as he could, running into the surf towards his friends. At that precise moment he heard Tiutalion calling for him and the shock of it drove him to his knees. He knelt there in dismay for several seconds, heedless of the waves washing over him and then with a sense of defeat he forced himself to stand and return to the beach, retrieving his clothes but not bothering to don them. He trudged back down the beach to the stairs, cringing at the mournful sounds of the dolphins who had come to play with the star-child and refused to look in their direction. Ingwion made his way slowly up the stairs, stopping at the top where Tiutalion awaited him. The Maia gave him a sympathetic look.

"You did well to obey me, child," he said as usual. "I know how difficult it was for you this time."

The words gave Ingwion no comfort and he almost hated Tiutalion at that moment. Without acknowledging the Maia’s presence he went into the house, made his way to his room, and refused to come out for the rest of the day, not even for dinner.

For the next two days Ingwion remained within the house, mostly in his room but eventually need drove him to seek the kitchens and find something to eat, though he found no joy in it and he still refused to properly dine with Nienna and Niélë as had been his custom. Of Tiutalion there was no sign, nor did he ask after him. Nienna watched him with growing concern but said nothing. Niélë, as was typical of the elleth, barely registered the fact that Ingwion was no longer present at the dinner table. She was still rather shy around the haryon and was relieved that she didn’t have to dredge up any kind of courtesy that might be expected of her during dinner.

On the third day Ingwion’s fascination with the beach proved greater than his anger at Nienna and Tiutalion and, swallowing his pride, he humbly asked permission to go there. Nienna nodded and again Tiutalion came and escorted him to the beach. But now something of the delight he had always felt upon feeling the volcanic sands between his toes was lost to him and he found no real joy in being there. Neither did he wish to return to the house and so he sat disconsolately upon a large bleached piece of driftwood, idly watching the waves roll in.

Then, the dolphins appeared and his heart leapt, but he schooled himself and remained seated, refusing the bait (as he saw it). Tiutalion suddenly appeared next to him, looking puzzled.

"Your friends are calling for you, Ingwion," the Maia said. "Why do you not go to them?"

Ingwion jumped up, his face suffused with anger. "Why? So you can reel me back in at the last minute like before?" he shouted. "Is that how you entertain yourself, tormenting me by letting my friends come but only pretending that you will allow me to go to them?" He stormed past the Maia towards the stairs. He was halfway up them when he was stopped by Nienna standing there.

"Go back to the beach child," she said gently but with authority. "You do not have my leave to come up."

That was the final straw for the elf. "MAKE ME!" he screamed, fury in every fiber of his being at what he saw as capriciousness and tyranny on the part of the Powers.

It was, of course, the wrong thing to say. Suddenly he was being bodily lifted up into Tiutalion’s arms and finding himself being taken back down to the beach. He was screaming now, and weeping and he cursed the Maia, Nienna and all the Valar roundly, even using one or two phrases in Sindarin that he had picked up from Glorfindel. Then he felt himself being placed in another’s arms. He was dimly aware of being carried into the ocean, the sudden wet coldness of the water shocking him enough to stop his thrashing and screaming, though he continued to weep, clinging now to the one holding him. He felt the dolphins swimming about him without their presence actually impinging upon his consciousness. They crooned to him in their whistling language, their sleek bodies caressing him, until he was lying silently in the arms of whoever held him. It was only then that he felt the beard under his questing fingers and knew that he must be in Lord Ulmo’s embrace.

"Feeling better, child?" the Lord of Waters asked gently.

Ingwion declined to answer, not really in the mood to be sociable. His anger was still there and he wasn’t about to let it go. They treated him with contempt, speaking to him as if he were an elfling or a stupid thrall, like poor Vorondil. They had no right. Was he not, after all, the haryon to the High Kingship? He deserved better from them. They wanted obedience. Well, they were not going to get it from him anymore.

Ulmo chuckled then and that just drove Ingwion towards fury again, but it was a draining emotion and he could not keep it up and he began weeping all the harder, pounding his fist into Ulmo’s shoulders in what even he knew was a futile gesture of defiance. Ulmo held him through his tantrum, allowing the sea to do its work of offering succor to the ellon in his arms with the gentle lapping of the waves rocking his hröa to stillness.

Finally, Ingwion’s weeping ceased and Ulmo deemed it time to return to shore, where, with Tiutalion’s help, he removed the ellon’s clothes and wrapped him in an overlarge towel. Ingwion welcomed the loss of his clothes, for their heavy wetness had clung to him uncomfortably and chafed him. Then he was being placed on a blanket and the warmth of the sun stole into him, caressing him, and he fell asleep for a time.

When he woke he lay there, content not to move, luxuriating in the feeling of the sun kissing his face and listening to the slurp-shush of the ocean hitting the beach. His eyes were closed against the brightness of the sun and he sighed with relief when something blocked the light and he was in cool shade.

"Why don’t you open your eyes now, Ingwion?" came Ulmo’s voice rumbling somewhat like the ocean that was his domain. "We need to talk."

Ingwion was reluctant to comply, remembering his half-promise to himself not to be obedient any longer, but then he felt someone lift him into a sitting position and his eyes opened of their own accord at the sudden movement of his body.

"Ah, that’s better," Ulmo said with an amused tone as he adjusted his hold on the elf so Ingwion was now facing him. "You are a very stubborn elfling and I think you’ve been taking lessons from our favorite balrog-slayer, hmmm?" This last was said with feigned annoyance though Ingwion did not smile. Ulmo sighed and shook his head.

"He’s very willful."

Ingwion shivered at that and slowly turned his head to see Lord Námo standing there, looking less than pleased. The Vala was dressed in grey tones similar to the shades favored by his sister and wore no jewelry save for the gems in his braided hair. Embroidered upon the overtunic was the same fountain that graced the cloister. It seemed to Ingwion that Námo was almost acting as one of Nienna’s servants, the way the Vala was dressed, but that didn’t seem possible and he dismissed the idea out of hand.

"Very willful indeed," the Lord of Mandos reiterated, then he stared hard at the elf and Ingwion found he could no longer look away but was forced to gaze into Námo’s eyes. What he saw there made him quail and he felt himself cringe against Ulmo who spoke to him in a very gentle tone that just seemed to make the whole experience worse.

"Obedience has nothing to do with doing what you are told, child," the Vala said, gently running his hand through Ingwion’s hair, attempting to soothe him. "That is only the surface meaning of the word. It has everything to do with paying attention, of bending one’s ear, not one’s will, to those in Authority, to listen with one’s entire being to what is being said. You are not listening, Ingwion, and that is where your sorrows lie."

Námo moved then, kneeling before the elf, unmindful of the sand, and his expression was less severe, though no less daunting, and Ingwion cringed even further into Ulmo’s embrace. "Do you know why Lord Manwë initially refused you entrance into his presence the day you found Glorfindel missing?"

"Y-you asked me that before, at the trial," Ingwion whispered, uncertain as to where Lord Námo was going with his question.

"Yes," Námo nodded, "though you never did actually answer the question, so I am asking you again, Ingwion. Do you know why Lord Manwë initially refused you?"

"Be-because I was angry," he answered.

Námo shook his head. "No, child, because you were not listening, or rather, you were not willing to listen. You had already decided that we were to blame for Glorfindel’s disappearance and anything we said to the contrary would be dismissed by you."

Ingwion wanted to protest the Vala’s words, but in his heart he knew them to be true and looked down in chagrin. Then Námo spoke again, more softly. "Do you know why the Elder King decided to see you anyway?"

Now Ingwion shook his head, for he truly did not know, having only assumed that his threat (pathetically puerile when he came to think about it) had been enough.

"For the same reason."

Ingwion looked up in genuine confusion and saw Námo nodding.

"You were not listening and in your heart you had turned from us even as Fëanáro had, though not necessarily for the same reasons." Ingwion went white at the thought that the Valar saw him as another Fëanáro and felt his stomach begin to heave. Námo reached out and placed a hand on Ingwion’s forehead and the sick feeling receded.

"Fear not, child," the Lord of Mandos said in a kinder tone than he had been using. "We are not here to condemn but to instruct. Refusing to listen to us is not a crime so much as it is a case of bad judgment. In Fëanáro’s case, he went beyond mere disobedience, mere not-listening if you will, to blatant rebellion, not just against us but against Eru. Not listening is the first step down a steep slope that leads to sorrows unimagined."

"We want to make sure you do not experience such, child," Ulmo interjected. "Do you know why Tiutalion called you back from joining the dolphins the other day?"

Ingwion was tempted to say what he had told the Maia but refrained, contenting himself with a shake of his head. "Tell me, lord," he whispered dejectedly, sure that the reason would be as he suspected anyway however nicely the Vala put it. He did not see the look that passed between the two Valar at his thoughts.

"Well, it wasn’t because he likes to torment ellyn," Ulmo said sardonically and Ingwion cringed somewhat at the tone. Ulmo sighed and decided on a different tack. "Stand up." The two Valar rose and Ulmo gave Ingwion a hand. The elf clutched the towel still covering his nakedness and followed the Valar to the edge of the rockfall where Ulmo bade the ellon to climb to the top. The Valar followed him. Once at the top the Lord of Waters pointed to a spot halfway between the beach and where the dolphins generally appeared.

"The day the dolphins came," Ulmo said, "you could not see but there was a group of sea creatures floating in the surf between you and the dolphins. These creatures are very deadly and nearly invisible. The Teleri call them falmatirnor, for they hide in the waves and wait for their prey. Had you not listened to Tiutalion you would have swum right into them and the sting of their tentacles would have paralyzed you instantly and you would have drowned." He gave the ellon a brief glance to make sure his words were having the correct effect. "They came with the storm, you see."

Ingwion turned to the Vala. "Why didn’t Tiutalion tell me?"

"Why didn’t you ask?" Námo retorted. "Had you asked why Tiutalion had called you in when he did, instead of assuming the worst, you would have been told, but you weren’t listening, Ingwion."

Ingwion stared out to sea with chagrin. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing about himself. He had always been obedient and now the Valar were accusing him of disobedience. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t been for Glorfindel. His love for the golden-haired Noldo had driven him to this and he wondered why it had been so easy.

Námo shook his head. "Do not blame Glorfindel for this Ingwion, he is not the one at fault." The Vala’s tone was cold and Ingwion felt the blood rush from his head and he swayed. Ulmo took hold of him and then guided him back down to the beach. When they reached the sands Námo spoke again, in less forbidding tones.

"You are an estimable elf, child, a credit to your people, but you are not perfect. This flaw lies within you. Glorfindel is merely a convenient excuse on your part. Face the truth about yourself. Learn to listen more attentively and you will be obedient to us, if that is what you truly wish." He gave the elf a knowing look. "How did you feel whenever Tiutalion offered you praise for your obedience?"

Ingwion responded somewhat reluctantly. "His words made me feel...I don’t know... happy, but I don’t know why."

The Lord of Mandos nodded. "There is a certain delight in actively practicing obedience, Ingwion, in mindfully paying attention to what is being told you by those in Authority over you and following through from there. It is no less so for us Valar who obey the words of Eru Ilúvatar. Melkor refused to listen, as did Fëanáro. Do not follow them, child. It will bring nothing but sorrow to all."

Ingwion paled at those words but held firm and nodded. It had never occurred to him to think of the Valar, whom he always thought of as The Authorities, as having to practice obedience, no less than he. With this revelation, Ingwion began to see these Beings in a wholly different, more mature light.

Námo nodded, apparently pleased that he had finally gotten through to this Child and smiled briefly, giving the ellon a light kiss on the forehead. He gave Ulmo a glance, quirked an enquiring eyebrow at his brother Vala, and faded from sight. Ulmo gave Ingwion a smile of his own, his eyes twinkling with gentle humor.

"Well, my boy, you might as well take advantage of your state of undress and go swim with the dolphins." He pointed out to sea and Ingwion was glad to see his dolphin friends playing just beyond the breakers. "Just remember to come in when Tiutalion calls for you," the Vala reminded him and Ingwion nodded, giving the Lord of Waters a shy smile, then threw off the towel as he ran into the surf. It did not take him long to reach the dolphins and begin playing with his friends. He never noticed when Ulmo disappeared.

Some time later, when Tiutalion called for him, he came immediately and when the Maia praised him for his quick return Ingwion gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you," he said and then impulsively hugged Tiutalion, quite forgetting that he hadn’t dried off yet. Tiutalion didn’t seem to mind and hugged the ellon back.

****

Falmatirnor: literally, "wave-watchers"; a name given to what we would call jellyfish, especially the Portuguese Man-o’-war. In many real-world languages "jellyfish" is rendered by some form of the Greek word medusa, from Medousa, lit. "guardian", fem. present participle of the verb medein "to protect, rule over". The tentacles of the jellyfish are reminiscent of the gorgon’s snake-head.

Linguistic note: Obedience: literally means "the act of paying attention to, giving an ear to, listening to", ultimately from Latin oboedire: ob- "towards"+ audire "hear, listen". The original meaning of the Indo-European root word au- , is "to perceive [a thing or a person]".





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