97: Fallout

Ingwë was beginning to regret his decision about Glorfindel.

First, Alassiel carried out her threat and left the next morning in high dudgeon for Lórien with her amillë. She refused to speak to him. She also sent a message to Arafinwë when she stopped at Valmar for the night. Then, Aldarion, Elessairon, Lómion and several other ellyn lodged an official protest by way of Lord Valandur. They threatened not to participate in the New Year tournament if Lord Glorfindel (everyone within Ingwë’s hearing contrived to stress that particular title when mentioning the ellon’s name) was not permitted to join them in the practice fields even if he must remain banished otherwise.

As for what several heart-broken and enraged ellith threatened to do....

"They are appalled by your judgment against him," Valandur said to Ingwë when they met a couple of days later to discuss the fallout from Glorfindel’s "trial", as everyone was calling it, even though there had been no official adjudication.

Ingwë responded to Valandur’s words with a grimace. "I want them to be appalled."

That rather surprised the loremaster. "May I ask why, Sire?"

"Reborn or not, hero or not, Glorfindel violated my trust," the High King retorted somewhat angrily.

"Not deliberately," Valandur ventured carefully. "Between his kidnapping, the trial and then his memories about his oathtaking to Turucáno...." He shook his head and sighed. "Most of us would not have functioned as well emotionally as he has."

Ingwë eyed his chief loremaster sourly. "Do you disapprove of my decision as well?"

"Actually, I don’t," Valandur replied candidly. "I think that in the long run, this will prove beneficial to Glorfindel, but with all respect, Uncle, I don’t think you have thought out all the possible ramifications. There is still resentment towards Glorfindel in certain quarters, some who no doubt blame him for Ingoldo’s fall from grace. They will seek to take advantage of the situation if they think Glorfindel no longer has your friendship and protection."

Ingwë remained silent for a bit, then gave Valandur a feral grin. "I certainly hope so," he said fervently.

Valandur raised an eyebrow as he finally understood. "The Valar help us," he whispered with equal fervor.

Now Ingwë sighed. "I certainly hope so."

****

When Arafinwë received Alassiel’s missive he sat for the longest time in contemplation. Then, he stood up, went to the fireplace and carefully placed the letter on the flames, never moving until he was sure there was nothing left but ash. Then he returned to his desk, pulled out a sheet of vellum, sharpened a quill and proceeded to write a letter of his own.

An hour later one of the royal messengers was seen taking a fast horse east towards the Calacirya. Many who saw him assumed the messenger was going to Alqualondë. All of them would have been shocked had they known the messenger’s actual destination.

****

In Lórien, Alassiel attempted to speak with Findaráto and Laurendil to apprise them of their otorno’s plight. She could not understand why she was unable to find them. It seemed that she had just missed them or no one had seen them. Her frustration reached a critical turn when she came across Vorondil changing the bedding in her pavilion, humming a wordless tune as he worked. She noticed he was wearing an apprentice’s tabard, which surprised her even more than the fact that the ellon seemed actually happy.

"Vorondil," she said somewhat shortly, "where is your Master?"

Vorondil looked up from his task and gave the elleth a respectful bow, though his expression was wary. "I do not know, lady," he answered quietly. "He and Lord Laurendil have been in deep discussions with Lord Irmo and Lady Estë for the last few days. I have not seen either of them since the Solstice."

Alassiel gave the ellon a disbelieving look. "You’re lying!" she suddenly shouted. "You stupid little thrall, you’re lying. You know where he is. Take me to him! Take me to him!" She grabbed the hapless ellon by his tabard and started shaking him.

"I’m not lying, lady," Vorondil protested, fear in his voice. "I promise you..."

"Liar! I don’t believe you!" Alassiel screamed, anger and frustration taking a toll on her reason. Without thinking she raised her hand and smacked him hard across the face and would have done it again, but Vorondil managed to escape her grasp and run out of the pavilion with Alassiel following. She was incensed beyond anything he had ever witnessed in an elf and he was not in any position to reprimand her.

Vorondil ran towards a certain grove, sobbing with shame and fear, for Alassiel had truly frightened him with her fury. He could still hear her screaming invectives behind him and hoped he could reach safety before she caught up with him. He entered the grove and was relieved beyond measure to find that the person he needed the most at that moment was actually there.

"Lady! Help me, please," he cried as he ran straight into Melian’s arms.

"Vorondil, my child," the Maia queen said in surprise as she wrapped comforting arms around the shaking ellon, "whatever has happened?"

Before he could answer her, though, Alassiel entered the grove, walked up to Vorondil without really seeing who else was there, grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him.

"How dare you run from me you miserable excuse for a thrall! Now tell me where Findaráto is or so help me..."

"That’s quite enough, Alassiel!"

The force of Melian’s words brought Alassiel out of her fury as nothing else could have. She blinked stupidly, as if waking up, and seeing the Maia standing before her, glowing with something other than benevolence, she finally realized what she had done. She released her grip on Vorondil, who cowered back into Melian’s embrace, and stepped back, her expression now one of shock... and fear.

Melian stared at the elleth for several painfully silent minutes, all the while rubbing Vorondil’s back and sending soothing thoughts to calm him, as he sobbed quietly in her arms. When she spoke, her tone was deceptively mild but it brooked no dissent. Melian was every inch the queen of Doriath at that moment, but even more, she was every inch a Maia, and one of the most powerful Maiar at that.

"You have shamed yourself and your family, Alassiel Intarioniel, by your reprehensible behavior towards this child. Your actions are those of a harridan and a shrew. You will return to your pavilion and you will remain there until such time as I or Lord Irmo send for you."

Alassiel attempted to stammer out an apology, but Melian was not willing to hear it. "Go," she said as coldly as she had ever spoken to anyone. Alassiel went absolutely white and found herself stumbling out of the grove and back towards her pavilion before she understood what was happening.

Meanwhile, Melian continued comforting the elfling, stilling his sobs. After a few minutes Vorondil calmed down enough to explain what had happened. Melian assured him that he had done nothing wrong and told him he could spend the rest of the afternoon helping her with her garden.

"I’m... I’m supposed to be doing the bedding, lady," he said hesitantly.

Melian smiled warmly. "The bedding can keep. My garden is more important. Fear not! I will explain everything to Lord Irmo and your Master and all will be well. Now, why don’t you start with these flowers here?" She pointed to some roses and in minutes Vorondil was happily deadheading them. Melian smiled to herself when she heard him start humming a tune while he worked.

****

Finrod entered Melian’s grove with Laurendil and Lord Irmo later that afternoon to find Vorondil sitting next to the Maia queen with a slate on his lap, working his way through a Sindarin lesson.

"....tôl...telim...telinc...telilir...telir."

"Very good, Vorondil," Melian said encouragingly. "See, you’re not as stupid as you think. I know Sindarin is difficult for you, but if my nephew can learn it anyone can."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence, Aunt," Finrod said laughingly as he greeted her with a kiss and gave Vorondil a wink. "You’re never going to let me forget my... gaffe, are you?"

Melian laughed. "But it was too funny, my child, and you endeared yourself to Elu that night... and to me."

Finrod smiled and turned to Vorondil who had been listening to the exchange with unabashed interest. "I’m told you had something of a fright earlier, child."

Vorondil paled somewhat and nodded, clutching the slate.

"I’m sorry to hear that," Finrod said, "but you are well now, are you not?"

Vorondil nodded, giving Melian a quick glance, as if seeking her approval. The Maia queen smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder. "Yes, Nephew, all is well with this Little One. You need not concern yourself there."

Finrod nodded. "I’m glad to hear it. Vorondil, Laurendil tells me that Manwen is returning to Lady Nienna’s house for a few days. Would you like to go with her? You can continue your Sindarin lessons with her and she and Lady Nienna will teach you how to make healing draughts and tinctures while you’re there."

"Truly?" the ellon asked, giving Laurendil an excited glance. Laurendil nodded, hiding a smile at the ellon’s enthusiasm. Who would have thought that beneath that arrogant elfling exterior lay a child hungering for a chance to learn the healing arts. Vorondil had donned his apprentice’s tabard with obvious delight and had accepted his duties, however menial, with something akin to joy. It had taken so little to bring him around. Laurendil was still amazed at the change in attitude.

"Why don’t you go with Laurendil and start packing. You’ll be leaving early in the morning."

"Thank you, Master," Vorondil said, giving Finrod a hug before following Laurendil out of the grove.

Finrod watched him fondly, but the smile left his face the moment he turned back to Melian and Lord Irmo. "Send my cousin to me."

Had Alassiel been there to see Finrod’s expression at that moment, she would have had every reason to feel very afraid.

****

Alassiel looked up to see a Maia standing there. She had returned to her pavilion and had spent the next several hours simply sitting, staring at nothing in particular. Thankfully, Lirulin did not return to the pavilion during that time. Her amillë was spending the day with Lady Indis and was not expected to return until much later.

The Maia gestured silently and Alassiel rose and followed him outside where a second silent Maia waited for them. She began to understand the seriousness of the situation and felt faint, but forced herself to remain upright as her escort led her back to the grove where she had encountered the other Maia. Alassiel did not know who that personage was, but she feared that she was in a great deal of trouble with Lord Irmo.

When they entered the grove, she was surprised to see Findaráto there and, giving a glad cry, ran to him, throwing her arms around him. "Cousin! I’ve looked everywhere for you but no one would tell me where you were."

"So you decided to attack an innocent child instead?" Finrod asked quietly, disengaging himself from her embrace, his tone cold and unforgiving.

She stepped back in dismay, looking uncertain. "A thrall who..."

Alassiel was unprepared for the slap in the face Finrod gave her. She cried out more in fright than in pain, her expression disbelieving. Her cousin looked upon her with such cold disdain that she felt physically ill. "Y-you... hit me!"

"Punishments should always fit the crime, daughter," he said quietly and Alassiel dimly understood that this was not her cousin standing before her, but the once King of Nargothrond, and fear smote her.

Before she understood what was happening, she found herself on her knees stammering an apology, but no one apparently was ready to listen to her. Lord Irmo placed a hand upon her head and with a quiet word stilled her voice.

"It’s a little late for apologies, Alassiel," the Lord of Lórien said to her, not unkindly, "and so far you’ve tried to apologize to everyone but to the one person whom you offended. Vorondil may indeed be a thrall, or he may not, but in either case, he did not deserve what you did to him, especially when he’s still only a child."

"I... I just wanted to give... to give you a message, Findaráto," she said weepingly. "It’s about..."

"Glorfindel... I know," Finrod said. "My otorno is quite capable of taking care of himself, Alassiel, and he does not need you to rescue him."

"But he’s...."

"Presently a thrall to the jewel-smith, Martandur," Finrod said, nodding. "I know that, too. In fact, I know more of this than you suspect. You need not have bothered coming all the way here to tell me. You should have remained in Vanyamar."

Now Alassiel stood up, anger overcoming her earlier fear. "You cold-hearted bastard!" she screamed. "He’s your otorno and all you can do is say, ‘Go home, Alassiel’? What kind of brother are you?" She raised her fists to strike him but he held them in his implacable grip.

"Be still, daughter," he commanded, and such was the force of his words that she was surprised to find herself obeying him. Finrod continued to hold her wrists. "There is more going on than you suspect, Cousin. Do not concern yourself with what you do not understand."

"Then tell me, damn you!" she yelled in frustration. "What are you doing to Glorfindel? Why are you treating him this way? He’s your otorno! He’s your otorno!" She was crying now, unable to comprehend what was happening or why, only knowing that no one seemed to care that Glorfindel was in trouble.

"We care, child," Irmo said quietly, taking her into his embrace, rocking her gently until she began to calm down. "We care more than you can ever guess. We’re as concerned for Glorfindel as you, more so, even. Shh. Hush now, child. You are making yourself sick. Be still now. That’s it. Gently... gently."

The soothing tone of the Vala soon brought Alassiel to a state of suggestive calm and she gave a large sigh as she allowed herself to sink further into Irmo’s embrace. After a while she felt herself being passed from Lord Irmo to Finrod. She looked up at her cousin, his expression cold and remote, not at all warm and merry as it had been in the past.

"I’m sorry I slapped you," Finrod said quietly, stroking her hair. "You will find that when it comes to protecting my own, I tend not to take any prisoners."

"I... I’m s-sorry," she whispered, afraid he might reject her again, but he merely kissed her on the top of her head.

"I know you are, daughter. Now I suggest you return to your pavilion and think on your apology to Vorondil. He’s going to be away for a few days, but he will return before the week is out. That will give you plenty of time to think on how you wish to make amends."

Her cousin released her and with an abject curtsey she followed her Maiar guards out of the grove. Finrod gave a large sigh after she left and cast a rueful glance at Irmo and Melian, who returned his look with sympathetic ones of their own.

"That was harder than I thought," he said, rubbing a hand across his eyes, trying to ease the headache that threatened behind them. He felt rather than saw Irmo placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It is very difficult to discipline someone you love, child, but an important part of the parenting process. As a Guardian of Aman you will sometimes find yourself in that role. Best to get used to it now."

Finrod nodded absently, then turned to Melian with a smile. "Thank you for your help once again, Aunt. I truly appreciate it. I’m glad I had the foresight to tell Vorondil to seek you out if ever he was in trouble and could not find me."

Melian smiled. "It was my pleasure, Nephew. Vorondil is a delightful child and very helpful around the garden."

Finrod gave Irmo an amused glance. "I better go see how the packing is coming along. Vorondil tends to be overly enthusiastic sometimes."

Irmo smiled indulgently. "That describes most elflings I’ve known... even you."

Finrod’s expression grew pensive. "I just hope Glorfindel..."

"He’s fine, child," Irmo said soothingly. "Do you truly think we would allow him to come to any real harm? He’s too important to us to allow that. Now, put all worries aside and go help Vorondil pack."

Finrod gave the Vala a bow and left the grove. He realized the truth of Lord Irmo’s words, but in spite of them, he couldn’t help wondering how Glorfindel was truly faring.

It would not have comforted him to know that others were wondering the same thing.

****

For two weeks Ingwë would not permit anyone from court to visit Glorfindel, much to the dismay of many. At the last, the High King relented and sent Valandur to see how he was faring. Thus, on a rather blustery morning, Valandur found himself entering Master Martandur’s workshop to find Glorfindel on his knees scrubbing the floor. He grimaced at the sight, then schooled his expression before the ellon saw him. Of the jewel-smith there was no sign.

Glorfindel looked up idly from his task to see who had entered, and paled at the sight of Lord Valandur standing there. He stood up somewhat hesitantly, the scrub brush in his hand.

"M-my lord?"

"How are you Glorfindel?" Valandur asked gently as he pushed the hood of his cloak from his head, shaking the snow from his shoulders.

"Well enough, sir," came the quiet reply. "Did... did you wish to see my Master? He’s only just gone out but will return shortly."

Valandur shook his head. "Nay, child. I came to see you."

Glorfindel went even paler and shook his head. "I... I have to finish scrubbing the floor." With those words he went back on his knees and began scrubbing, his expression set, refusing to look at the loremaster.

Valandur grimaced again, then sighed. "Glorfindel, stop what you’re doing and look at me."

Glorfindel reluctantly stopped his scrubbing, sat back on his heels and looked up at the loremaster, though Valandur noticed the ellon did not quite meet his gaze.

"What happened to your braids?" Valandur asked quietly.

"I undid them," Glorfindel said shortly and Valandur suspected that he would not give any further details.

"I see... How are they treating you?"

Now Glorfindel looked directly at Valandur and his expression was cold and distant. "As if any of you care."

"Glorfindel..."

The Noldo stood up abruptly, throwing the scrub brush to the floor as he stalked out of the workshop. Valandur was vacillating between going after the ellon or leaving when someone entered from the direction Glorfindel had gone. It was an elleth, clearly the mistress of the house. Her expression was polite but distant.

"Lord Valandur?"

Valandur nodded. "Yes. I’ve come from the High King, who..."

"You may tell Ingwë from me that, High King or no, neither he nor his lackeys are welcome here. Glorfindel is doing well enough and we are treating him with respect, which is more than I can say for others. He will return when his... punishment is over, though I doubt he will bother to stay in Vanyamar any longer than he has to. Now, please leave."

Valandur hesitated for a moment before bowing. "Please tell Glorfindel that Ingwë will allow him to join the other ellyn on the practice fields to prepare for the New Year tournament if he so desires."

"Hmmph. Well, as to that, I doubt the poor ellon would even want to be seen by any of you lot. I have the impression that he’s not planning to stay for the New Year anyway, but will leave as soon as his indenture is completed. I will, of course, relay your message. What he does with it is his business. Good day to you, my lord."

Valandur bowed again and made a hasty retreat. When he returned to the palace and told Ingwë, the High King bowed his head and would not speak to anyone for the rest of the day.

****

Aldarion was the next person to visit Glorfindel some days later. This time the Noldo was sitting on a bench carefully sorting various gemstones by color, placing them in separate trays. Martandur was also there, working on a piece of jewelry.

"...and when you’re finished with those, Glorfindel," Aldarion heard the elf say as he entered the workshop, "the instruments in that box there need cleaning and sorting."

"Yes, Master," came the quiet reply. Aldarion noticed that Glorfindel was subdued but not servile in his response.

At his entrance both Martandur and Glorfindel looked up. Martandur, seeing a richly dressed ellon, smiled and stood to greet him, then noticed how pale Glorfindel looked and turned to his servant with concern.

"Are you well, Glorfindel?" he asked when he saw how white-faced the ellon looked. Glorfindel could only stare at the elf standing uncertainly by the door.

"Why are you here, Aldarion?" he asked quietly. "Did Ingwë send you?"

Aldarion shook his head. "No, meldonya. I’ve come of my own accord. I would have come sooner but the High King wouldn’t..."

"You’d best leave, Aldarion," Glorfindel said tonelessly. "If Ingwë finds out..."

"I don’t care!" Aldarion shouted, suddenly angry. He strode over to Glorfindel and took him by the shoulders, shaking him.

"What did these people do to you, Glorfindel? You’re acting like a... a..."

"Thrall?" Glorfindel retorted sardonically and had the pleasure of seeing Aldarion blush and step away. "Because that’s what I am. Ingwë decreed it so, did he not? I am not a lord and I am not a warrior. I’m a thrall. For now."

"The High King’s given his permission for you to join us in the lists..."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I will not participate in the lists. I do not have the time nor the freedom and even if my Master gave me leave, I still would not go. My indenture ends on the eve of New Year’s. As soon as it does, I will be leaving the city and returning to Tirion, where I belong."

Aldarion stared at his friend in dismay, but Glorfindel’s gaze was steady and remote. There was no warmth in it and no joy. "I’m sorry. I wish..."

"What you wish is of no consequence here, Aldarion," Glorfindel said coldly. "Go now. Tell the others I am well. Tell them also that I do not want them coming here. Do not risk Ingwë’s anger on my account. I’m not worth it."

Impulsively, Aldarion took Glorfindel into his embrace and gave him a fierce hug, then kissed him gently on the cheek. "Yes, you are," he whispered before turning and leaving without a backward glance.

For a long moment neither Martandur nor Glorfindel moved, then Glorfindel put a hand to his mouth in an attempt to hold back a sob. Martandur opened his arms and welcomed the ellon into them, rocking him gently in an attempt to comfort his now weeping thrall.

It was some time before either one of them returned to their work.