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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

98: Further Fallout

For the next week after Aldarion visited Glorfindel, life continued as usual. Glorfindel was finding that his indenture was less onerous than he first thought it might be. Martandur and Míriel were a warm and loving couple who took the ellon into their hearts and made him feel less like a thrall and more like an apprentice or their own child. When Martandur learned that Glorfindel had some knowledge of jewel-making he set out to instruct the ellon further, though Glorfindel opined that he really had no soul for such craftsmanship.

"I’m a warrior... or I used to be," he said to his Master one day. Martandur was explaining some aspects of the craft that rather escaped Glorfindel’s understanding. "I’m not sure what I am any more, but I know I can never become a jewel-smith. I’m just not that... creative." He sounded somewhat regretful at that and Martandur put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"It takes no special skill to rejoice in beauty, hinya," the jewel-smith said in a quiet voice. "Knowing something of how that beauty was created will only help you to appreciate it the more."

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, Master," he said, but he still sounded doubtful.

"Speaking of warriors," Martandur said then, "you really should reconsider your resolve not to go to the practice lists and compete in the tournament."

Glorfindel gave his Master a surprised look. "Whyever would I do that, Master? My place is here, and I won’t give them the satisfaction..."

"Hush now, child," Martandur chided him gently. "Consider this: Ingwë gave you to me out of anger and he is probably regretting it now, but he will not rescind his command else he will be made to look the fool. Allowing you to join in the lists is just his way of trying to make amends."

Glorfindel stepped back from Martandur, his expression dark with anger. "I accept his right to do what he did, but I will never forgive him for it. Never!"

"Never is a very long time, Glorfindel, even for us."

The two elves turned in surprise to see an elleth standing by the door of the shop, smiling at them. She wore a warm cloak of marten fur over a gown of midnight blue worsted wool and carried a wicker basket. She could have been any elleth of the city out doing her shopping for the day, as Mistress Míriel was doing even now. She could have been, but she wasn’t. The soft glow of power emanating from her and the ancient light of her regard belied that image. Martandur gave a low bow. Glorfindel just stood there glowering.

"What do you here, lady?" he asked warily.

Vairë raised an eyebrow. "Why to see how you were faring, child. Why else would I be here?"

Glorfindel gave her a disbelieving look. "I’m sure the Maiar you have watching me are quite capable of giving you a report on my well-being. You needn’t have bothered coming yourself."

"Glorfindel," Martandur said somewhat sharply. "Show some respect."

"Peace, Martandur," Vairë said with a soft smile. "Glorfindel is showing more respect than you think." She nodded when the jewel-smith gave her a skeptical look. "For one thing, he still has his clothes on."

The mystified expression on the smith’s face and Glorfindel’s sudden blush set the Valië laughing lightly. "Now, as for the Maiar, child," she said, still smiling, "they are not watching you, they are warding you."

"Warding?"

Vairë nodded as she stepped further into the shop. "Yes, child, warding. The Elder King is concerned..."

"Obviously not concerned enough!" Glorfindel yelled back, then stalked out of the workshop. Martandur started to call him back, shocked at the ellon’s behavior, but Vairë stilled him with a gesture.

"Let him go, Martandur," she commanded softly. "He needs time."

Martandur shook his head. "He’s been here three weeks already, lady. My wife and I have done what we could to make his... punishment as mild as possible, but he won’t let go of the anger. He’s pushed away everyone, and now...."

Vairë nodded. "It is why my lord sent me. But do not fret for him so, child. He will do well. The Elder King is well aware of what is happening and why. Now, as long as I’m here, I have in mind to have a gift for my beloved made. Perhaps you would be so kind as to show me your wares."

Martandur just stared at the Valië for a long moment in disbelief, then pulled himself together and shyly began showing her around. To his eyes his workshop, which he’d always been so proud of, suddenly seemed much too humble and his skill as a jewel-smith much too ordinary for one such as she, but Vairë was never condescending in her attitude towards him and praised both his work and his workshop. Soon, he was feeling more at ease and when she finally left (by way of the door), he had a commission from her.

Of Glorfindel there was no sign.

****

Glorfindel stormed out of the workshop, up the hallway, into the main room and out the front door, grabbing his cloak as he did, heedless of everything and everyone. He was not even sure in his anger where he was headed but his feet seemed to know where they were going and before he really knew it he found himself before one of the side gates leading into the palace grounds. The guard there did not stop him, for this gate was for any who wished to wander through the High King’s gardens. Even in winter there were some who enjoyed the serene beauty of a garden in hibernation and so the gate stood open during the day. Glorfindel took no notice of either the guard or the gardens but made his way towards the part of the palace grounds where the training salles were located.

The archery salle was empty at that time of day, for which he was thankful. He quickly found an appropriate bow and a quiver of arrows in the armory and set up the target to his liking. Then he stood there, systematically putting one arrow after another into the target. At first the arrows went wide, his anger still controlling him, but as the rhythm of nocking an arrow and letting it go took over, his breathing slowed and his aim improved until he was placing the arrows closer to the center.

He was retrieving his arrows for the third time when he realized he had an audience. He turned from pulling an arrow out of the target and looked up. Sitting in the gallery was Lady Vairë, happily embroidering as she watched him. She looked down at him with a smile.

"Don’t stop, child. I’m enjoying this very much. You do need to adjust your stance slightly though. Try putting your left foot out a bit more."

He just stared at her in disbelief and then he started backing away, dropping the arrows from nerveless fingers. "Why can’t you all just leave me alone?" he whispered, shaking his head, the anger and humiliation he was feeling leaving him nearly faint and he was weeping now. "Why can’t you leave me alone?"

He found his legs would no longer support him and he was crouched against the salle wall lost in misery. Vairë sighed, put her embroidery back into her basket and went down to the floor. She crossed the salle and knelt before the ellon, though she did not try to take him into her embrace.

"Glorfindel, look at me," she said softly. It took a few minutes for him to calm down enough to obey her but finally he looked up, his eyes red and puffy from tears, his expression one of bleak hopelessness. Vairë smiled warmly. "Child, why do you weep? Should you not be screaming your anger instead?"

Glorfindel stared at her, not sure what she was saying. "If... if I get angry and yell, they come after me," he said. "Th-they don’t like me getting angry."

"Ah," Vairë said, suddenly understanding the ellon’s reticence. She sent a silent command and Manveru and Erunáro appeared, both looking chagrined. Glorfindel, for his part, cowered somewhat against the wall, watching them warily.

Vairë stood up and put a hand out to Glorfindel who reluctantly took it, allowing the Valië to lift him up. She gave them all a beatific smile. "Manveru, Erunáro, why don’t you play with Glorfindel for a while? I still have some shopping to do."

With that the Weaver of Arda faded away. For several minutes there was only silence between the two Maiar and the elf, then without a word, Manveru began to remove his sword belt and cloak and his brother did the same. Glorfindel just stood there, not sure what was going on as he watched them remove their hauberks as well so that they were now dressed only in linen tunic and breeches. Manveru smiled at his brother and some silent message passed between them for suddenly without any warning Manveru grabbed Glorfindel by the placket of his tunic and threw him at Erunáro who deftly caught him before throwing him back to Manveru.

Glorfindel shrieked in surprise and started to fight their grip, actually managing to land a punch when Manveru threw him back to Erunáro, though it wasn’t a very strong punch and Erunáro only laughed.

"You can do better than that, sword-brother," the Maia said and then he put Glorfindel down and grabbed his arms and started wrestling with him. Glorfindel uttered a vile oath as he allowed his anger to take over and with a deft sweep of his foot brought the Maia down, landing on top of him. Then Manveru got into the act by pulling Glorfindel off his brother. Now the ellon was incensed and began screaming invectives, though most of them seemed aimed not at the Maiar but at Ingwë. It didn’t matter. Soon the three of them were in a free-for-all with Glorfindel yelling and the Maiar laughing as they rolled about in the dirt.

How long it lasted, Glorfindel was not sure. He only knew that at one point he found himself straddling Manveru’s chest and pounding his fists into the Maia’s face still screaming curses at Ingwë. Manveru did not try to stop him and Erunáro merely knelt beside him, gently rubbing the ellon’s back, though in his fury, Glorfindel was unaware of this. Finally, the elf simply stopped, leaned over and grabbed Manveru’s head and began kissing him on the brow all the while weeping.

"I’m sorry... forgive me... Imsorryimsorryimsorry..."

Manveru wrapped his brawny arms around the ellon and began rocking him, crooning softly. "Fear not, little sword-brother," he said softly. "I still love you."

That set Glorfindel weeping even harder and for some time the two Maiar warriors sat on the floor of the salle taking turns rocking Glorfindel and assuring him of their love. Only Glorfindel looked the worse for wear, his tunic torn, a cut lip and bruises a testament of the rough and tumble of their "play". Eventually, his weeping stilled and suddenly he fell asleep. The Maiar continued rocking him, humming softly, waiting patiently for him to awaken.

****

"Where did you say he is?" Ingwë asked the guard.

"The training salle, Sire," the ellon said. "The one used for archery. He’s alone."

"Thank you. You may return to your post."

The guard gave the High King a salute and left. Valandur looked at Ingwë, trying to gauge his mood.

"It seems he’s forgiven you that much," he said softly.

Ingwë nodded. "I think I will go to the training salle. Alone."

Valandur started to protest but recognized Ingwë’s expression and simply nodded. "I’ll be here when you return."

Ingwë made his way through the palace to the archery salle, slipping in as quietly as possible, not wishing to alert Glorfindel to his presence. He needn’t have bothered. As he opened the door and stepped in he saw in the dim light not one person but four, two of them clearly Maiar and the third....

Lady Vairë faded from sight at that precise moment and then Ingwë watched in fascination as the two Maiar warriors began to strip. When Manveru grabbed Glorfindel and threw him, Ingwë almost yelled himself, but instead, made his way to the gallery and stood there, out of the way, and hopefully out of sight, as he watched the Maiar "play" with Glorfindel. He winced at the invectives that came from the ellon’s mouth, even though most of them were in Sindarin and incomprehensible to him. The invectives in Quenya, however, caused him to reel in shock as he realized they were directed, not at the Maiar, who were happily pounding Glorfindel to a pulp, but at him. He was unaware of the tears that flowed down his face as he stood there watching the wrestling match.

Then Glorfindel suddenly collapsed and Ingwë heard Manveru speak to the ellon of his love for him. That was too much for the High King and he found himself on his knees weeping quietly. It was some moments before he became aware of hands gently rubbing his back. Looking up, he found himself staring into the sympathetic eyes of Lady Vairë, who smiled at him, then placed a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence.

"Hush now, beloved," she whispered. "We don’t want to wake the elfling."

"H-he hates me," Ingwë whispered.

Vairë shook her head as she helped him to his feet. "No, child, he does not, but he is very angry nonetheless. Come. Let us away from here. Manveru and Erunáro have everything under control."

Ingwë allowed himself to be led away, casting a glance over his shoulder as they left the salle to see Erunáro lean over and gently kiss Glorfindel’s brow as the ellon continued to sleep.

****

Vairë continued to lead Ingwë back to his own study where they found not only Valandur but also Aldarion waiting for him. The two elves stood and gave their obeisance to the Valië, looking upon the High King in wonder.

"Is it true?" Aldarion asked, ignoring protocol. "Is he here?"

Ingwë nodded, disinclined to speak. Aldarion did not even bother to bow or seek permission to leave, but giving a gasp, ran from the room.

"Aldarion!" Valandur shouted, but Ingwë waved his hand.

"Let him go," he said quietly as he sank into his chair. His expression was bleak and Valandur became alarmed. The loremaster quickly went to a sideboard and poured some wine into a goblet and gave it to the High King. All this time Vairë stood by the door, watching with faint amusement.

"What happened?" Valandur asked as he sat in his own chair, casting a glance at the Valië.

"He hates me," was all Ingwë would say.

Vairë sighed and moved into the room. "I said before Ingwë that that is not the case. He is angry, but he does not hate you. His actions should tell you that."

Ingwë looked up in confusion. "What do you mean, lady? He was pounding on the Maiar and screaming curses directed at me."

Vairë nodded. "Yes, but then what did he do?"

Ingwë shook his head. "He... he started apologizing to... Manveru."

Vairë shook her head. "No, child. He wasn’t apologizing to Manveru. He didn’t even see Manveru or Erunáro at that point. He saw you. When he was beating on Manveru, he saw your face, not the Maia’s and when he kissed Manveru, he was kissing you and asking you for forgiveness."

Ingwë’s expression was one of deep shock and Valandur, listening, thought perhaps his own expression was probably not much different, for he could feel the shock running through him at the Valië’s words.

"Wh-what do you mean, he saw me?" Ingwë finally asked.

Vairë smiled gently. "Just what I said, child. In his anger, he didn’t see the Maia, he saw you. All his anger was directed towards you. When he finally stopped and began kissing Manveru, in his mind he was kissing you. The words Manveru spoke at that point, do you remember them?"

Ingwë nodded. "He said that he still loved Glorfindel."

"Yes, but it was not him saying it, it was you, or rather, it was your voice Glorfindel heard."

"My voice? Why my voice?"

"Because it was your forgiveness he needed to hear, child, not Manveru’s. Do you not understand? He needed to hear you forgive him. He needed to hear that you still love him. Manveru merely stepped into the role Glorfindel had assigned him in his own mind."

"But..."

"You still do love him, do you not?" Vairë’s tone hardened and Ingwë swallowed, nodding.

"Yes, lady, I do. I never stopped loving him."

"And he needed to hear it, even if only by proxy." Vairë paused and nodded as she saw that Ingwë now understood. Then she smiled again and, pulling out several bolts of cloth from her wicker basket (both ellyn wondered how she managed that), she asked, "Now do you think my lord husband would look good in this dark green or should I stick with the grey and black?"

Neither Ingwë nor Valandur had a clue how to respond to that question.

****

Aldarion did not go directly to the archery salle, but stopped along the way to gather some of his friends, including Elessairon and Lómion. It took some time to hunt everyone down so it was nearly half an hour after Aldarion left the High King’s study so precipitously before they all reached the salle. Throwing open the door they stumbled in, only to stop in amazement.

Glorfindel was there, but he was not alone. Two Maiar were also there. Glorfindel was standing with bow in hand speaking calmly with one of the Maiar, while the other Maia was retrieving arrows. It was apparent that the elf had just loosed an arrow at the target and was listening to the Maia critique him.

"...that’s much better," they heard the Maia say. "Try holding your breath for a second longer before releasing and see how that works."

Glorfindel nodded and accepted the arrows from the other Maia with a smile.

"Glorfindel," Aldarion ventured, still standing at the door with the other ellyn and ellith who had accompanied him.

The ellon turned and all could see that he no longer wore his warrior braids. His tunic was torn and smudged with dirt and he sported a bruise on his cheek and a cut lip. Glorfindel did not exactly smile but he gestured them to come forward, which they did, though they were somewhat leery of the Maiar who watched them with amused detachment.

"Wh-what happened to you?" Elessairon asked worriedly when he reached Glorfindel’s side.

Glorfindel shrugged. "Manveru and Erunáro decided I needed wrestling lessons," he said, nodding towards the two Maiar, both of whom gave them wide grins.

"And now that your friends are here, sword-brother," Erunáro said to Glorfindel, "we will leave you. Namárië."

With that the two Maiar faded away, leaving the elves standing there feeling bemused. Glorfindel smiled. "Anyone up for a little practice?"

****

When Ingwë and Valandur made their way to the archery salle some time later and peeked in they were heartened to see Glorfindel surrounded by his friends, laughing and joking, waiting for his turn at the target. The two older elves smiled at each other as Ingwë quietly closed the door and the two returned to the palace. None of the archers even noticed.





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