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Elf, Interrupted: Book One: Glorfindel Redux  by Fiondil

106: Catching Up

Finrod’s tent, which lay near the center of the encampment as befitted his rank, was actually inside a separate compound roped off from neighboring tents with its own entrance consisting of two poles on which torches hung. Above them flew pennants with Finrod’s personal device of the harp and torch. Over the ropes were hung different colored squares of cloth each with Finrod’s name in tengwar without tehtar painted in gold. Three stars were inserted between the tengwar, thus: F*ND*R*T.

In the center was a large pavilion with two smaller tents to the left. For propriety’s sake, Alassiel was given a tent for her own use, while Laurendil and Manwen would sleep in the other small tent. Finrod, Sador, Vorondil and Mithlas would occupy the pavilion which would also serve as their common meeting place. The pavilion was divided in half by wood-framed silk screens depicting hunting scenes. The front portion was the common area while the back section contained two sleeping areas, one for Finrod and Sador, the other for Vorondil and Mithlas. Colorful rugs covered the ground of the pavilion. There was a dining table and sideboard on one side of the front section while comfortable chairs and pillows were placed on the other. A kitchen tent occupied the far right corner of the compound. A firepit had been built in front of the pavilion and several camp chairs and stools were ranged around it.

When Finrod and the others arrived at the compound they found Vorondil sitting on one of the stools before the fire listlessly peeling potatoes. He stood up when he saw Finrod approaching, his expression somewhat bleak and he could not meet his master’s gaze.

Finrod eyed the ellon for a moment, shaking his head. "Go fetch us some wine, Vorondil," he said quietly as he and the others took seats around the fire.

"Yes, Master," Vorondil replied meekly, returning a half-peeled potato to the pot before going to do his master’s bidding.

Finrod cast a rueful look at Glorfindel. "Have you given your master as much trouble?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "You’ll have to ask him. I’m somewhat prejudiced."

Finrod laughed and the others grinned. "I hope you can forgive us for putting you in such a position, hanno," Finrod then said.

"Did you plan for me to become a thrall?" Glorfindel asked, looking troubled.

Finrod shook his head. "No, hannonya. We were never satisfied that all the malcontents had been accounted for and wondered how we could flush them out into the open. I told Ingwë that you were likely to do something... precipitous, given half the chance, and that he should take advantage of it. Your stealing a horse and leaving the city without telling him was the excuse he needed to... er.... punish you, thereby setting you up as bait. Making you the jewel-smith’s thrall was Ingwë’s idea."

Vorondil returned just then bearing a tray of goblets. Glorfindel accepted one with a nod of thanks before speaking, his expression blank. "Well, I eventually figured all that out... once I got over my anger."

Finrod winced slightly at the ellon’s emotionless tone. The others looked uncomfortable. Sador cast a troubled look between his two brothers. "What happened to your braids, hanno?" he asked.

Glorfindel shrugged. "I undid them the night the High King gave me to my master."

"So you will rebraid your hair at the New Year?" Finrod asked, trying to sound diffident, but not quite succeeding.

Glorfindel did not look up from his goblet as he answered. "I haven’t decided yet."

"Glorfindel...." Finrod began, but Glorfindel forestalled him by suddenly standing and throwing his goblet to the ground, some of the wine spilling into the fire, which started fizzing and spitting sparks.

"It’s late and my master said I must return before sundown," he said without looking at anyone as he started to walk away.

Now Finrod stood, blocking Glorfindel’s way. "Not that way, háno," he said, embracing the ellon. Glorfindel simply stood there, stiff and unyielding. "There’s still enough time before you must leave. I do not want what has happened to come between us."

"Would you have given me over to... to..." Glorfindel found he could not finish the question. Finrod kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Yes," he whispered, "if there had been no other way."

Then Glorfindel began weeping silently. "You don’t know what it was like... you don’t know.... and all... all I could think about were the... the mólanoldor... and..."

"Hush now, best beloved," Finrod whispered softly, rocking him gently, but Glorfindel would not be comforted and tried to break out of Finrod’s embrace. Finrod merely tightened his hold and continued rocking the weeping ellon while the others sat there looking uncomfortable, not sure what they should do. Laurendil looked especially grim at Glorfindel mentioning the elves who had been enslaved by Morgoth.

Surprisingly, it was Vorondil who acted. The ellon had returned to his potato peeling while Glorfindel and Finrod had been speaking, but now he stood up and walked over to where his master and Glorfindel were standing and tried to hug the weeping ellon, laying his head on Glorfindel’s back.

"Did your master beat you, Glorfindel?" Vorondil asked quietly, eliciting exclamations of surprise from the others. "Master hasn’t beaten me... yet. I think he’d like to after today, though." That statement brought a grunt of protest from Finrod, who, truth to tell, was having a difficult time trying not to laugh at the ellon’s somewhat odd way of offering comfort to his fellow thrall.

Glorfindel turned in Finrod’s embrace to gather Vorondil in his own arms, giving the ellon a brief kiss on his forehead. "No, he didn’t beat me," he said amidst his tears. "My master and mistress have been very kind." He then gave Vorondil a hug and attempted a smile. "And I doubt your master will beat you, child. He finds you too amusing, as do I."

"That doesn’t mean I’m not tempted, though," Finrod said, giving Vorondil a severe look that failed to impress anyone, least of all Vorondil, who merely smiled, secure in his master’s love.

"So what punishment are you planning to mete out?" Laurendil asked curiously. From long experience he knew that his king’s idea of punishment was rather unique and always memorable.

Finrod released his hold on Glorfindel and returned to his seat while Glorfindel and Vorondil remained in each other’s embrace, seemingly offering one another comfort. "I haven’t decided yet," Finrod said as he took a sip of wine, "but I’m sure I’ll think of something."

Glorfindel smiled at Vorondil’s sudden look of apprehension, then turned to Finrod. "Do you trust me, hanno?"

Finrod gave Glorfindel a startled look. "With my life," he said simply.

Glorfindel nodded. "But do you trust me enough with your thrall?"

Now Finrod looked puzzled. "What do you have in mind?"

Glorfindel shrugged. "I just thought I would handle Vorondil’s punishment for you, is all."

"Why?" Vorondil asked, looking equally confused.

Glorfindel turned back to Vorondil. "We thralls have to stick together, you know," he said with a smile and a wink, which only confused the ellon even more, but Finrod seemed to understand what Glorfindel was about and nodded.

"As you wish, hanno," he said, then gave a sigh, as of relief. "Well, at least that’s one thing I can cross off my to-do list. It’s been getting rather long lately."

The others snickered at that and Glorfindel gave Vorondil a smile and a kiss on the brow, whispering something in the ellon’s ear that the others did not hear. Whatever he said seemed to mollify the younger elf, for they saw Vorondil’s expression clear and he looked less fearful. Then Glorfindel looked up, casting a weather-eye to the skies.

"It really is growing late," he said, facing Finrod. "I need to get back. Master Martandur lent me the use of his horse but with the stipulation that I returned it and myself to the city before sunset. If I leave now, I’ll be just in time."

Finrod didn’t bother to respond to that. Instead, he looked past Glorfindel and to everyone’s amazement began addressing the empty air. "Will you let Martandur know I’m keeping Glorfindel for the night, Manveru? I’ll see he returns in the morning."

Glorfindel turned around in surprise, expecting to see the Maia, but there was no one there. He turned back to Finrod, his expression suspicious. "How did...."

Finrod raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think has been keeping me apprised of your activities, hanno?"

Glorfindel scowled then and muttered a curse. Finrod merely smiled and gestured to a chair. "Sit down, Glorfindel. You’re not going anywhere tonight, so you might as well relax and enjoy yourself."

Glorfindel reluctantly complied. Vorondil went back to his potato-peeling. Just then, Alassiel returned and Finrod greeted her.

"Did you reconcile with your amillë, child?" he asked and Alassiel nodded.

"Yes, my lord."

"Good," Finrod said with a smile. "Now, why don’t you give Vorondil a hand with the dinner preparations?"

"Yes, my lord," Alassiel replied with a brief curtsey, then turned to Vorondil with a wry smile. "Unless you plan on feeding the entire encampment, Vorondil, I think that’s enough potatoes for tonight."

Vorondil gave a startled glance at the pile of peeled potatoes that had grown quite large and blushed while the others laughed good-naturedly. Then, Glorfindel stood up and ruffled the ellon’s hair. "Come on, Vorondil. I’ll help with dinner. Alassiel can do the cleaning up afterwards." He stuck his tongue out at the elleth who returned the favor, much to everyone else’s amusement.

Finrod nodded his agreement to the plans and motioned for Alassiel to join them around the fire. As Glorfindel and Vorondil collected the potatoes, Sador began to tell them about his encounter with the Lady Vána and Glorfindel chimed in with a description of his run with the deer and the wolves. They continued catching up with each other’s news over dinner, with the occasional interruption by, first, Gilvagor, then Mithlas, reporting to Finrod and receiving further orders.

When it came time for the cleaning up, Alassiel and Vorondil were surprised (though none of the others were) when Finrod calmly began filling a tub with hot water and soap, rolled up the sleeves of his tunic and started washing the dishes himself. Soon, they were all helping. Torches were lit and guards were seen manning the entrance to their compound as the night deepened. When they at last retired to their beds, Glorfindel joined Finrod and Sador on their side of the tent, lying on a pile of rugs and furs between the two cots. The three of them continued speaking softly into the middle hours of the night, but what they discussed none but the Maiar standing invisible watches over the encampment ever heard.

****

Tengwar/Tehtar: The Quenya writing system, which is written as consonants (tengwar) with vowel marks (tehtar). Finrod’s Quenya name consists of four tengwar with ‘nd’ considered a single letter: numbers 10 (formen), 5 (ando), 25 (rómen), and 1 (tinco). See Appendix E.

Mólanoldor: The Noldor enslaved by Morgoth. Mólanoldorin, the language of the enslaved Noldor is an attested word.





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