94: Vanda Envinyanta

Aldarion was not pleased when Valandur informed him of the High King’s decision, but put a good face on it. So, he was rather surprised when he walked into Lord Valandur’s study a couple of days later to find Glorfindel in a corner standing on his head while the loremaster sat at his desk calmly reading a court document. Valandur looked up with a smile when he saw Aldarion and chuckled at the ellon’s expression.

"Don’t mind Glorfindel," Valandur said. "He’s being punished. Come and sit down... and Glorfindel, wipe that frown from your face."

"I’m not frowning, my lord," Glorfindel retorted, crossing his eyes as he tried to look at them. "I’m smiling upside down."

Valandur rolled his eyes and Aldarion hid a smile. "Just for that," Valandur said, "you can stay there for another five minutes." He gave Aldarion a grin and winked. "Glorfindel tends to get overly excited at times," he explained. "Lord Námo gave me some pointers on how to... er... curb his enthusiasms."

Aldarion gave Glorfindel a sideways glance and saw the ellon stick his tongue out and started laughing in spite of himself.

"All right, Glorfindel," Valandur relented. "You may join us."

Glorfindel sighed with relief and stood up, giving himself a shake before taking a chair, grinning impishly and looking not at all repentant.

Valandur gave the two younger ellyn an appraising look. "How go the archery and sword-fighting lessons?"

The two ellyn gave each other brief glances, then both shrugged noncomittally. Valandur was hard-pressed not to laugh at their antics. Aldarion was much older than Glorfindel if one did not take into account the fact that Glorfindel remembered the Two Trees whereas Aldarion was born after the rising of Isil and Anar, but at this moment he was acting much like Glorfindel in the face of authority.

"Well, I’m glad to hear it," the loremaster said sardonically and was pleased to see both ellyn blushing at the implied reprimand. "His Majesty reminded me the other day that the Merendë Andohrívëo is coming up and he has in mind to have a tournament the day after to show off our warriors’ skills in sword and bow. He would like you, Aldarion, to organize the archery competition and you, Glorfindel, the sword-fighting." He paused for a moment to allow the ellyn time to take in his words, then turned to Glorfindel, who sat there looking a bit stunned. "Did you not tell me that Turucáno often commanded such tournaments to be held in Ondolindë?"

Glorfindel nodded, swallowing nervously. "It’s one reason why more people survived Morgoth’s attack than should have. Most of the warriors had already donned armor, intending to compete in the summer tournament that would be held just after sunrise once the ceremonies were over, else none of us would have been armed when the orcs came for us."

Valandur and Aldarion remained silent at Glorfindel’s description of his last day in Gondolin. Valandur sighed. Aldarion stared at Glorfindel with dawning respect, beginning to understand at last this Reborn Noldo.

"I’m sorry I’ve brought such a painful memory to light, youngling," Valandur said quietly.

Glorfindel shrugged. "Painful, yes, but it’s just a memory and can no longer harm me." He paused and licked his lips, taking a deep breath and releasing it, as if letting go of whatever pain the memories had conjured. "What exactly did the High King have in mind?"

Valandur smiled approvingly at the ellon. "As to that, something small. Perhaps a combination of demonstrations as well as actual competitions, but nothing too serious or elaborate. If it works out well, I think he would like to see a larger tournament held at the New Year and invite all the warriors of Aman to compete, even those from Tol Eressëa."

"And the prize?" Glorfindel asked.

Valandur raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Prize?"

Glorfindel nodded enthusiastically. "There’s always a prize, something for the competitors to pin their prowess on. Turgon usually had some gift — a bag of gold, or a piece of jewelry, nothing extremely expensive, more a token of esteem for fighting so well than anything else. And of course, Lady Idril would be the one to give the prize to the winner, which was an even greater incentive to do well in the lists." Here he grinned wolfishly. Valandur and Aldarion laughed.

"Very well," Valandur said once they all calmed down. "I will speak to Ingwë about a suitable prize and who should give it. I think we should spend this time hashing out any other details. The High King wants to see what you’ve decided by tomorrow so he can make the necessary arrangements."

The two younger ellyn nodded and soon all three of them were busy planning the tournament. Aldarion found his estimation of the Noldo rising as Glorfindel spoke authoritatively about the logistics involved in seeing that a tourney ran smoothly and with little mishap.

The next day, when Ingwë listened to them outlining their plans and watched as Aldarion bowed to Glorfindel’s expertise in the matter without evincing any rancor, he smiled to himself, pleased that his little gambit in throwing these two together was paying off.

****

The Winter Solstice arrived and preparations for the upcoming ceremony and the tournament the next day became somewhat frenetic, though it was a controlled chaos. Glorfindel and Aldarion finished their preparations early in the day, assigning roles to others whom Ingwë had ordered to help out. There was much excitement over the tournament and many elves wanted to compete. The size of the tourney and its limited scope, however, meant that not everyone would be able to join in the fun, but all were mollified by the idea that an even larger tournament was being planned for the New Year and the lists would be opened to all with the requisite training.

In the meantime, as the hour for the traditional solstice ceremonies drew nearer, many noticed Glorfindel becoming more withdrawn. Valandur observed with some concern that the ellon was constantly rubbing his peridot ring and wondered what he should do, other than to tell Ingwë. He was unaware that Manveru, presently on "sword-brother watch" as he and Erunáro called it, had already alerted Lord Manwë about Glorfindel’s rising agitation and the Elder King had placed his people on high alert.

Then, after the noon meal, Glorfindel went missing. Ingwë ordered his guards out to find him.

"Be sure not to threaten him or do anything to alarm him," the High King warned them, "but let him know that he need not attend the ceremony if he does not so desire. I just want to know that he is well."

"And if any of the Maiar appear, do not interfere," Valandur added. "They will know better what is to be done."

A search of the city, however, found no Glorfindel and Ingwë became thoroughly alarmed. "Search the mountain," he ordered grimly as he went to prepare for the ceremony, loath as he was to do so, for he would much rather have joined in the search for the missing Noldo.

When the ceremony was finished Ingwë found the captain of his guards waiting for him with a report. Glorfindel was not on the mountain.

"I went even unto my Lord Manwë’s abode," the captain said. "None there had seen him and Lord Manwë was not there."

Ingwë dismissed the captain with his thanks and sank dejectedly to sit on the top step of the dais before his throne, wondering what he should do now, but there were no answers forthcoming.

****

Glorfindel thought stealing a horse and leaving the city through the southern gate too easy, for no one stopped him and he was halfway to Valmar before he felt himself relaxing enough to enjoy the ride. The horse was not Asfaloth, but it was a fine steed nonetheless. It was past sunset now and he would not reach the city of the Valar for some time, though hopefully before midnight. The night was clear and the sky was brilliant with stars. Snow lay upon the ground in virginal silence. Nothing broke the serene whiteness that covered this part of Aman, not even animal tracks.

As soon as he had cleared the city walls his sense of unease had lessened and now he found himself singing softly one of the songs he remembered from his previous life. He was not sure why he was doing what he was doing and without the High King’s permission, but it felt right and he refused to think any further about the possible consequences of his actions. He wondered briefly if he should have left a note, but decided that it was a good thing he hadn’t, else they would have found him too soon.

Eldamas came into view a couple of hours later. The city was ablaze with lights as the citizens set out to celebrate the Solstice. No one paid any attention to him. Glorfindel stopped at the edge of the town, climbed down from his horse and whispered his thanks into an equine ear.

"Return now to your master, my friend," he said, giving the horse a rub between its ears. "I am grateful for your assistance. Namárië."

The horse gave a soft whinny and a nod before turning and heading back towards Vanyamar. Glorfindel watched him go for a bit before continuing through the town towards Valmar and what lay beyond. He paused briefly before Lord Manwë’s mansion, all lit up, but did not linger overlong, making his way down the Landemallë. When he reached Lord Námo’s mansion, however, he stopped and knelt before its gates, trembling, constantly rubbing his gift-ring, though he was unaware that he was doing so.

After some moments he rose unsteadily and made his way to the west gate, his steps slowing, as if now that he was there, he was unsure if he should continue. Then he shrugged, pulled himself together and continued on. He thought his ultimate destination was the Máhanaxar, but when he reached the Ezellohar, he found himself stopping and stared up at the dead husks of the Two Trees. For the longest time he simply stood there and then with a stifled sob he knelt, pulling out a white-hilted knife from its sheath, staring at the cool deadly blade gleaming in the winter starlight. He found himself trembling again.

He raised the knife to his lips and kissed the cold metal with an air almost of reverence. Then in one swift motion he sliced the palm of his right hand, dropping the knife as blood, black in the starlight, welled up and dripped upon the pristine snow. As he held his bleeding hand with the other he started speaking, his voice hoarse with tears.

"H-here do I, Glorfindel, L-lord of the House of the Golden Flower, swear... swear fealty unto thee, m-my king. That I will come when thou sayest 'come' and go when thou sayest... sayest 'go'.... Thou hast my life... thou hast my life..."

He was crying in earnest now, unable to complete the words of the oath he had spoken so many centuries and a lifetime ago. How proud he had been at that moment when he had given his life into his liege’s keeping. The glad solemnity of his King as he spoke the words and the sense of belonging he had felt when Turgon had accepted his oath had nearly overwhelmed him...

"Tenn’ Ambar-metta. Valar valuvar."

Glorfindel looked up, giving a startled gasp even as he grabbed the knife, rising somewhat shakily to face the person before him. It was a Maia, but one he had never seen before. He stood taller than the elf, with flowing white hair. Unlike the other Maiar, he did not wear the usual white robe and embroidered surcoat. Instead, he was dressed in a knee-length hauberk of mithril mail, shining coldly in the night, its links reflecting snow and shadow. A fell sword, nearly as tall as Glorfindel, hung from his belt and a mantle of pure white wool trimmed with white rabbit fur flowed from his broad shoulders. He wore a mithril diadem upon his head where a single heart-shaped laurelaiquamírë gemstone shone dully green. Yet the most surprising thing was the large leather-bound book that lay open in his left hand while in his right he held a quill.

The Maia gave the ellon a smile, his silver-grey eyes shining in the darkness. "Greetings, Glorfindel. I am Eönwë of the People of Manwë."

"L-lord Manwë’s Herald," Glorfindel whispered in awe and felt himself trembling again, though he was not sure why.

Eönwë looked upon the elf with great benevolence and nodded. "But tonight I act as Oathkeeper to the Valar."

Glorfindel shook his head in confusion. "I don’t understand."

"Every oath uttered wherein the Valar or Eru are called upon as witnesses, I record in this book," he said, pointing to the open pages with his quill. "Every oath. Even yours, child." Then he bent down and turned the book so Glorfindel could read it.

There in flowing script were the words he had just uttered, but they were not the only words. Glorfindel swallowed hard, feeling faint. Somehow every oath he had ever uttered throughout his life was there on that one page. Even the simple oath he had spoken as an elfling when he and his cousins had played at being warriors. He remembered that day suddenly. He could not have been more than twenty-five at the time. How seriously he had taken their game and the oath he had given to be the best warrior there ever was. He smiled faintly at the memory and at the naiveté of his youth. And there, further down the page was the oath he had given to...

He found he could not breathe properly and the world did a slow spin as the stars blanked out. He was on his knees when he came to himself with Eönwë standing over him, one hand placed lightly upon his head. He felt someone else behind him and heard the familiar voice of Manveru speaking quietly to him.

"Breathe deeply, sword-brother. All is well. There is naught to fear here."

The quiet, familiar tone helped relax him and soon he was feeling himself again. He started to stand and Manveru helped him up. It was then that he noticed the cut on his palm was no more. Eönwë gave him a compassionate look.

"Why did you feel the need to respeak your oath, Son of Gondolin? Know you not that such an oath as this is irrevocable? Not even your death or Turucáno’s death could sever it. There was no need to renew it."

Glorfindel swallowed and looked down at his feet. "It... it was on this night that I gave him.... I just wanted Turgon to know that... that I hadn’t forgotten... that I hadn’t abandoned...."

He was weeping again and twisting the peridot ring, his voice full of sorrow, regret and anguish. Manveru took him into his embrace, stroking his hair. "Hush now, sword-brother. You must not weep so. Your oath still stands and you have been faithful to it. There is no need to feel shame or sorrow. Hush now. See, Eönwë has recorded your oath again and Eru has ratified it."

The Maia pointed upwards and Glorfindel gasped. High above hung curtains of shimmering red lights that seemingly encircled them. There was an eeriness about them as they fluttered and danced in silence above the snow-covered fields. Glorfindel gave Eönwë an awed glance which the Maia returned with a nod, his eyes full of solemn joy.

"All oaths to the Valar and to Eru are recorded, child. Thy oath is deemed acceptable to Ilúvatar, for though it was unnecessarily given, it was given in all humility and Eru and the Valar honor thee for it. Á lelya séressë, Yond’ Ondelindëo. Know that when the time is meet, thy king shall hear of this night and thine oath given once more and he shall be glad."

With that, Eönwë closed the book, which then faded from sight. The Herald of Manwë and Captain of the Host of Valinor bent down and kissed Glorfindel on either cheek and then on the brow. "Tenn’ Ambar-metta. Valar valuvar," he whispered and then faded from sight.

For a long moment Glorfindel just stood there, glancing up to where the lights still danced, then Manveru kissed the top of his head. "Come, sword-brother. I will escort you back to Vanyamar."

****

They arrived at dawn and when the city guards saw the ellon walking towards them with Manveru they gave glad cries and someone ran and rang the city bells. Ingwë rushed from the throne room where he had paced the night and ran into the street. Many there wondered at the sight of the High King weeping as he took Glorfindel into his embrace and gave him a kinsman’s kiss of welcome. Glorfindel attempted to stammer an apology but Ingwë waved it aside.

"You may apologize later, yonya," the High King said, smiling now that he was assured that Glorfindel was safe. "For now, we have a tournament to see to. Go you and rest for a time."

He gave the ellon one more kiss. Glorfindel bowed, gave Manveru a warm smile and left. Ingwë stood there before the Maia, his expression one of relief.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Manveru smiled. "He does grow on you, doesn’t he?"

Ingwë could only nod as he both laughed and cried. He did not mind at all when Manveru took him into his embrace and held him through his tears, humming softly an ancient melody until the High King had calmed down. Neither Maia nor High King paid much attention to those who passed by them, giving the two considering looks.

****

Vanda Envinyanta: An Oath Renewed.

Laurelaiquamírë: What we would call chrysoprase, an apple-green form of chalcedony. It helps to make conscious what was unconscious. It encourages hope and joy and helps clarify problems. It is also used as a shield or protector against negative energy and has more power when carved in the shape of a heart [Chrysoprase, from chryso "gold" + prase "leek"; laurë "gold" + laiqua "green" + mírë "jewel"].

Á lelya séressë, Yond' Ondelindëo: "Go in peace, Son of Gondolin."