109: Further Conversations with the Elder King

This time it took almost an hour to calm Vorondil down and to get him dried off. He was nearly hysterical with shame and fear at the sight of all the Valar laughing. It was too much for his young fëa to take in, for he suddenly remembered the night in the grove. He panicked, started screaming and ran, knocking Sador down in his fright.

It took Laurendil, Finrod and Eönwë to bring him down and hold him there until the Elder King could come and, laying a hand on the ellon’s head, will him into sleep. Finrod gave Laurendil a hard look as Vorondil slipped reluctantly into a dreamless state, his eyes closing against his will, his body sagging into repose. At Manwë’s direction Eönwë lifted Vorondil into his arms and brought him back into the chamber. It was empty of Valar, except Námo. A couch had been added to the room’s furnishings. The Maia gently laid the ellon down, gave the Elder King a bow and left. Ilmarë remained behind.

Finrod turned to Laurendil and Sador, who had since joined them, the latter rubbing the back of his head where it had been slammed into the wall by Vorondil pushing him away. Manwen remained in the background, hoping not to be noticed. Her lord’s expression was not one of amusement. "Explain," he said shortly and in a tone that made Laurendil visibly cringe. He had only once before been the object of the King of Nargothrond’s wrath and he did not relish a repeat performance.

"We were wandering through the rose garden and we came upon a rather large fountain, almost a pond," Laurendil said. "There were fish in the fountain. Vorondil wanted a closer look..." Laurendil stole a glance at Sador before returning his attention to Finrod and giving his liege a wry look. "Well he got his wish."

Finrod raised an eyebrow, slowly beginning to understand what Laurendil meant when he noticed Sador looking somewhat embarrassed and rueful, refusing to meet Finrod’s eyes. The former King of Nargothrond rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. "Now I know why Atar returned to Aman... and it had nothing to do with any Doom of Mandos."

Both Námo and Manwë raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh?" Námo asked with amused curiosity. "What was the reason Arafinwë turned back?"

Finrod gave the Lord of Mandos a sour look. "He needed a holiday from his children."

Neither Manwë nor Námo actually laughed out loud but the elves suspected it was only by sheer will power. Námo’s eyes were bright with something undefinable. Manwë’s expression was too beatific at that moment for any of the elves to endure and none could look at him directly.

Finrod gave Sador a look that reminded the two Valar of Arafinwë when he was about to chastise one of his recalcitrant subjects. "We’ll talk later, gwador." Sador could only nod, already looking suitably regretful. Finrod then turned his attention to the somnolent Vorondil.

"All right. Let’s wake him up and see if we can’t get him dried off." He sat on the edge of the couch and gently slapped the ellon on the cheek, calling his name. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Vorondil opened his eyes, which widened in fear at Finrod’s expression. He paled and started to cry out but Finrod forestalled him with a finger to the ellon’s lips. "Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble youngling?" he asked, his expression grim. "Will I need to put a leash on you from now on?"

Vorondil gulped and cringed slightly. Finrod sighed and relented somewhat, standing up. "Come along, then. You’ve dripped enough water on the Elder King’s floor to flood Vanyamar. Let’s get you dried off."

Lord Manwë smiled at Finrod’s words and stepped forward. "Námo and I will take care of Vorondil, Findaráto. It’ll give us a chance to talk. Why don’t you and the others wait here? I’ll have some refreshments sent."

Vorondil looked suddenly ill but Finrod merely nodded. "As you wish, my lord." He turned to Vorondil, reached down and grabbed the hapless ellon by the front of his dripping tunic, hauling him to his feet, then pushing him towards Manwë, who deftly took the elfling by the arm with Námo next to him. "He’s all yours, my lords," Finrod said with a grim smile. "I’m going for a long walk. I need to calm down." He gave the Valar a short bow, then strode out of the room without bothering to acknowledge anyone else. "Glorendil, godolo nin!"

Laurendil closed his eyes briefly. Finrod addressing him in Sindarin was not a good sign, "Yes, aran nîn," he said with a sigh, and giving his own bow to the two Valar, followed Finrod out.

Manwë turned to Sador and Manwen, both standing there looking a bit stunned and uncertain. He smiled at them warmly. "Why don’t you two take your ease here while we see to Vorondil. Ilmarë will attend you. We won’t be too long."

Sador and Manwen gave the Elder King and Lord Námo their obeisance even as Manwë was gently pushing a cowed Vorondil out the door with Námo following behind. "Come along, child," Manwë said, sounding rather amused, "let’s return some of this water to its proper sphere. I’m sure my brother Ulmo is wondering why the sea level around Valinor suddenly dropped."

Sador and Manwen both snickered at the Elder King’s words and began to relax. Ilmarë merely smiled. "Let me get you some wine," she said and the two elves nodded.

****

Vorondil did his best not to weep but it was hard. He was suffering from acute embarrassment, anger (mostly at Sador), and fear (mostly of his master’s wrath) as he found himself being herded along by two of the most terrifying Beings he knew. He wondered sickly if he was about to be sent to Mandos after all and his body trembled with dread. Neither Vala said anything as they walked through the halls of Ilmarin. Eventually Manwë directed Vorondil towards a plain wooden door which Námo opened, gesturing the ellon in. With the Elder King at his back, Vorondil had little choice in the matter.

It was a bathing room of all things. Vorondil’s terror began to abate with the sight of such an ordinary looking place. There was a small bathing pool set in the middle of the room, its waters gently steaming with the scent of lavender, illi-envinyatië and ëarrossë. Greenish-yellow linden flowers floated serenely in the water. Vorondil found himself relaxing almost immediately as he breathed in the heady scents.

"Why don’t you divest yourself of your wet clothes, child," Manwë said gently, "and enjoy the bath. I will see that your clothes are cleaned and dried and ready to wear when you are finished."

Vorondil nodded mutely and began stripping. Soon he was enjoying the soothing waters, relaxing to the point where he was nearly drifting towards the Path of Dreams. How long he lay there soaking he did not know but at one point he came back to himself to see the Elder King and Lord Námo still there, looking on in amusement. He felt suddenly shy and tried to sink into the pool. Lord Námo held out a large absorbent towel.

"Would you like to come out now and get dressed?" the Vala asked and soon Vorondil was drying off and donning his clothes, now clean, dry and neatly pressed. Námo handed him a comb which he pulled through his locks. He suddenly felt embarrassed at his near baldness, as he saw it. Manwë hid a smile, divining the ellon’s thoughts.

"It’ll grow back," he said gently, then gave the elfling a critical look, "though I’m not so sure I like the color."

Námo actually snickered, much to Vorondil’s chagrin, feeling truly embarrassed as he remembered the earlier accident and despaired. He had the feeling that everyone was going to be laughing at him for a very long time. Manwë smiled sympathetically, placing a finger under the ellon’s chin and forcing Vorondil to look at him.

"Only those who have no sense of humor," the Elder King said and the contradictory words brought Vorondil up short. He was so busy trying to decipher the Vala’s meaning that he ceased to feel sorry for himself. Námo gently took him by the arm and led him out of the room.

"Let’s go for a walk," the Lord of Mandos said and Vorondil was not brave enough (or stupid enough) to contradict him. He found himself walking between the two Valar down the hall towards a door made of blue quartz and mithril. It opened of its own accord as they neared it and passing through the portal Vorondil saw that they were inside a large conservatory made of clear quartz set within a mithril frame.

All about were trees and flowers amidst a park-like setting. He recognized most of the plants but some were unknown to him. There were stately nornor and graceful tasari, as well as the majestic malinorni with their golden leaves. Helinyetelli there were and helilohti. Vorondil recognized campilossi and cancali-malinë. Quinquennar grew in the thickets and quiquillar covered the ground. Elanar and nieniquë also could be seen and inwetelumbi grew in the shade of the trees. Somewhere culumaldar grew for he could smell the tangy scent of their orange fruit in the air. Birds sang from the trees and butterflies flitted about. A small path of colored stones led to a nénuvar filled with yellow lilies and golden fish. There were even a couple of frogs sitting contentedly upon lily pads croaking merrily to one another.

Then Vorondil saw the deer and gasped, for these were not the normal deer with which he was familiar but miniature red deer, coming no higher than his waist. He watched them for several minutes as they grazed, ignoring the ellon and the Valar. Vorondil was mesmerized and Námo had to gently but firmly steer him away towards another part of the conservatory. They eventually came to a small fountain where a set of benches was placed. Námo gestured for Vorondil to sit and the ellon complied, looking pale and uneasy.

Manwë sat next to him, but Námo chose to remain standing. Vorondil kept his eyes on his knees, waiting. Waiting for what, he wasn’t sure, but in the brief time he had been Finrod’s thrall, he had learned to do a lot of waiting. Manwë quietly began rubbing the ellon’s back and looked for Vorondil to relax a bit more before speaking.

"We wanted to speak with you, child," he finally said, "to see how you are faring."

Vorondil looked up apprehensively. "Wh-why would you care, my lord? I’m... I’m a thrall. Nobody cares about how thralls feel."

"You are a Child of Ilúvatar, Vorondil, whatever your current social standing," Manwë countered. "That alone is reason for us to care. And since your Judgment..."

Vorondil suddenly looked ill and swayed, giving an involuntary moan of terror.

"You remember that night, don’t you?" Námo asked, giving the ellon a shrewd look. Vorondil could only nod.

"What do you remember, child?" Manwë asked, but Vorondil visibly shied from the memory and started whimpering. Manwë gathered him into his arms and rocked him to stillness. "It’s all right, Vorondil. You don’t have to tell us. Why don’t you tell me about your stay at Lady Nienna’s, instead. I hear you went clamming."

Vorondil looked up at the Elder King, amazed that the Vala even knew about clamming. He couldn’t imagine any of the Valar doing it. He did not notice Námo’s sudden smile as he divined the ellon’s thoughts. Manwë’s own expression did not change but he was laughing silently along with the other Valar and not a few Maiar. Varda even sent him a mental picture of himself happily digging in the sand with pail and shovel in hand and Ulmo added to the picture by dumping a huge wave over the Elder King’s head. The laughter was long and loud though no elf ever heard it.

Vorondil, meanwhile, began to hesitantly describe his visit to Lady Nienna’s. As he spoke he relaxed more and more and became quite enthusiastic in his telling. He even told about Alassiel stealing his horse and what followed after that.

"You’ve forgiven her, haven’t you?" Námo asked.

Vorondil nodded. "We’re friends now," he said quietly, as if he wasn’t sure the Valar would approve of him being friends with a member of the High King’s family.

Námo merely smiled. "I’m glad to hear that, child. Holding grudges is never a good thing."

Vorondil didn’t know what to say to that so he nodded, wondering what else they wanted to know about him. The two Valar exchanged glances over Vorondil’s head and with a slight nod from Manwë, Námo reached down and took the ellon’s hand. "Come with me, Vorondil," he said quietly. Vorondil went absolutely white and moaned in terror at what he thought was about to happen.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry...." he started stammering, his panic rising as Námo pulled him to his feet. "I don’t mean to be bad... please don’t hurt me... please... I’m trying to be good... I am... I am...". He was crying now, trying to drag his feet to stop the Lord of Mandos from taking him away. Námo just pulled him along without offering the ellon any comfort and that frightened Vorondil even more and he began screaming, at which point Námo stopped, scooped the ellon into his arms and held him tightly as he continued down the path.

Vorondil, meanwhile, had ceased screaming or struggling, his fëa reduced to a state of terror that made him feel faint and strangely detached. He was lost, he knew that now and nothing he did or said would change that fact. It was not acceptance so much as it was resignation. He was bad... that was all there was to it... he had avoided punishment long enough and now it was time to face what would come.

At last they stopped, though Vorondil did not look up from Námo’s arms, no longer interested in what there was to see. In fact, he actually tried snuggling further into Námo’s embrace, much to the Vala’s amusement. Námo set the ellon down but did not release his hold on him.

"Open your eyes, child," he said with quiet encouragement, gently prodding the elfling so that Vorondil reluctantly obeyed, fearing the worst. He stood there with Námo’s arms about him, stunned by what he saw.

They were no longer in the conservatory, or at least he didn’t think so. Before them stretched a white sand beach with the sea at low tide. He wondered if he were somehow dreaming but he could smell the salt tang and feel the sea breeze ruffling his shorn locks. He looked up at Námo, fear and wonder warring within him.

"Wh-where are we?" he whispered.

"Somewhere north of Alqualondë," came the surprising answer. Then Námo suddenly produced a pail and shovel, thrusting them at Vorondil. "Let’s go clamming."

Before the ellon could utter a protest, assuming he was stupid enough, he found himself being led over the wet sand towards a sandbar, splashing through the water that filled the trough between. Somehow he was unsurprised to see Lord Manwë waiting for them. The Elder King gave the confused ellon a warm smile.

"I see Námo has provided you with all you need," Manwë said. "I think you’ll find some clams over there." He pointed to his left and Vorondil could only nod and go where he was directed. The strangeness of the situation made it impossible for him to think straight and he decided it was best not to think at all but just do what he was told. Soon, though, he forgot about it as the enjoyment he began to experience spread through his fëa. He had long divested himself of tunic and boots, allowing the sun’s warmth and the cool squishiness of the wet sand to do their work. He wasn’t sure why the Powers wanted him to go clamming but it was better than ending up in Mandos, so he wasn’t about to argue.

He never noticed when Manwë left, giving Námo a satisfied nod. Námo nodded back and then turned to watch the elfling happily engaged in finding clams and seashells, all the while holding a most interesting conversation with Ulmo and Ossë about Elda-raising and the ramifications of Elros Tar-Minyatur’s recent death on Númenórëan politics.

****

Sador and Manwen were enjoying a pleasant conversation with Ilmarë when the Elder King made his presence known. They both stood and gave him their obeisance. Manwë looked kindly at Manwen.

"If you will excuse us, my dear," he said as he gestured to Ilmarë, "but I need to speak with Sador alone. Why don’t you go with Ilmarë? There’s a lovely conservatory that I think you will enjoy visiting."

Manwen glanced at Sador, giving him an amused look before curtseying to the Elder King and following Ilmarë out. Sador watched the elleth leave, feeling a bit confused and not a little nervous. Manwë gestured for him to sit, which he did after the Vala took his own seat. For a moment neither spoke. Finally, Manwë asked a question.

"Whatever possessed you to push Vorondil into the pond?"

Sador blinked a couple of times, not sure he had heard correctly, then blushed, looking down at his lap. "Sorry. It was a stupid thing to do."

"Yes, it was," Manwë said serenely. "More to the point, it was a dangerous thing to do, especially here in Ilmarin."

Sador looked up, his expression one of concern. "Dangerous?"

Manwë nodded but did not elucidate.

Sador swallowed noisily. "Dangerous for whom?"

"Ah, a most intelligent question," the Elder King said approvingly, then his expression darkened somewhat. "Dangerous for Vorondil... and for you."

"How, my lord?" Sador asked faintly, now wishing he had never agreed to come to Ilmarin with Finrod.

Manwë gave the ellon a shrewd look. "You may have noticed a certain level of... immaturity in Vorondil that was not evident at the trial." Sador nodded but did not comment. Manwë continued. "Well, while in Lórien, Vorondil underwent Judgment that was not dissimilar from what you or Findaráto or Glorfindel suffered."

Sador looked at the Elder King in shock. "Bu-but he’s not dead!"

"No, he is not," Manwë agreed in a sober tone, "but he suffered Judgment nonetheless and as a consequence his fëa has regained some of the innocence it lost. Some, but not all, and there lies the danger."

"Forgive me, lord," Sador said, "I still don’t understand."

Manwë sighed. "Please understand that this is a new thing for us as well. We have never brought Judgment upon one still living and the ramifications for all involved are unknown to us at this time. Vorondil is in a very delicate state and there is no guarantee that he will not slip and fall into evil again. We need to guard against that."

Now Sador was confused. "But how does my... my teasing him..."

"Is that what you were doing?" Manwë asked.

Sador nodded, though his expression was more doubtful. Manwë sighed. "That may or may not be the case, child, but Vorondil may look at it differently, and more negatively and act accordingly."

It took Sador several minutes to understand the Elder King’s meaningful gaze. "Revenge," he said and Manwë nodded.

"We need to take care that nothing triggers a fall into darkness for our young thrall. Teasing is one thing, but what you did was a source of embarrassment for Vorondil, embarrassment that might fester into resentment and then..." the Vala gave an elegant shrug.

"Forgive me, my lord," Sador said contritely. "I was unaware of all that..."

"Which is one reason for this little chat," Manwë said.

"You said it was dangerous for me as well," Sador then said. "How?"

For a long moment the Elder King did not speak, merely gazing intently at the ellon sitting next to him. Sador was reminded of Lord Oromë for some reason and tried not to squirm under Manwë’s regard. Finally, the Vala spoke.

"You should know, child, that you were never meant to be released from Mandos when you were."

Sador went pale and his hands trembled as he clutched the armrests of his chair. "Wh-what..."

"You should not have been released when you were," Manwë reiterated. "By rights, you should still be within the Halls of Waiting for at least another century or more."

Sador suddenly felt as if he could not breathe and a sense of queasiness assailed him. He found himself leaving his chair and rushing to the balcony trying to draw in enough of the fresh mountain air into his lungs to prevent him from fainting. He felt, rather than saw, the Elder King follow him and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Fear not, child," the Vala said gently. "All is well. You have more than justified our decision regarding your release and we are all very proud of you. Breathe deeply, child," Manwë commanded. "That’s it... breathe."

Sador did as he was bid and soon the sick darkness that threatened to smother him receded with every breath taken until he felt his equilibrium returning. Still, he continued to clutch the balcony railing, not ready to do much more than breathe in and out and stare at the majestic scenery before him.

Finally, Manwë took him by both shoulders and turned him around. "Thou hast naught to fear, child. Thou art well and all is well with thee. Come, let us go inside and we will talk."

Manwë led him gently back to their chairs and soon they were both seated with Manwë pouring him some wine which he gratefully accepted. "I know it is something of a shock," Manwë said, "but I promise you that your being released early from Lord Námo’s care was a gambit that has paid off, for you have come along very nicely and we are pleased with your progress."

Sador nodded. "But how is what I did to Vorondil dangerous for me?" he asked, feeling perplexed.

"Interesting," Manwë said almost to himself as he gazed serenely at Sador. "You do not ask why you were released so early. Very well. To answer your question....Whether you realize it or not, Sador, you are at a vulnerable stage in your development towards full adulthood. When you died, you had had little experience in living. Since your re-embodiment, you have had to start all over again on many levels. To prepare you for Life though, we released you early enough so that you would be functionally ready to deal with what you would find after leaving Lórien. It was no accident that you and Glorfindel left Lórien together."

Sador shivered at that, not sure what those words portended. "Wh-why..."

Manwë shook his head. "We have our reasons, child, reasons we are not ready to divulge at this time." He smiled and leaned over to place a comforting hand on Sador’s lap. "Trust me when I say that we’re all very proud of you. You have exceeded our expectations. I know you are feeling frustrated over lack of information about your family, but you must be patient. Everything happens in due time and for a reason."

"That’s easy for you to say, lord," Sador said more boldly than he was actually feeling but unable to help himself, "but it’s not your family... or your life."

Manwë leaned back in his chair, contemplating the ellon before him and, after consulting with both Námo and Oromë, he made a decision. Sador sat there sipping his wine and waited.

"I will tell you nothing about your family, Sador," Manwë finally said. "Be content that you have the family that you have now and rejoice that Eru has so designed Eä as to allow you the love of family even from those who can claim no blood tie with you... and don’t forget the gift of your anammë. That should not be so easily dismissed."

Sador glowered into his goblet, recognizing the truth of the Elder King’s words but not willing to acknowledge them.

"What did you think of Tol Eressëa?" Manwë then asked and Sador looked up in surprise at the sudden change in subject.

"It felt like home," he answered without thinking, yet it was a sincere response.

Manwë nodded. "Thank you. That’s what I needed to hear."

Sador now looked puzzled but before he could ask what Manwë meant the door opened and Finrod strode in with Laurendil in tow. The former King of Nargothrond looked to be in better humor than when he had left. He smiled when he saw Sador with the Elder King.

"Forgive us," he said to Manwë with a bow, "are we interrupting anything?"

Manwë smiled and shook his head. "No, child. You are just in time. We were just finishing our conversation."

Finrod nodded and looked around. "Where are Vorondil and Manwen?"

"Manwen is with Ilmarë and they will be joining us soon. Vorondil..." Here Manwë paused and cocked his head as if listening for something and began to chuckle. "Vorondil is with Námo. They are presently arguing over who will carry the pail... so they may be a while."

Finrod gave the Elder King a shrewd look. "I’m not even going to ask," he said with a rueful shake of his head.

"Very wise of you, my son," Manwë said with a laugh. "So while we are waiting, tell me who you think will win the tournament."

Finrod’s smile could only be described as gleeful. "Me, of course."

The others laughed.

****

"It’s my pail, I get to carry it," Námo said with amused exasperation, full willing to enter the game Vorondil was playing. They were standing on the sandbar with the water beginning to lap at their feet as the tide was turning.

"But you gave it to me and I did all the work," the ellon protested in a reasonable tone of voice. Then he stuck out his tongue and made a rude noise.

Námo raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern. "What would your master say if he knew you were being rude to me?"

Vorondil shrugged. "Probably order me to fold your clothes for the next month. So what else is new?"

Námo threw back his head and laughed, taking hold of Vorondil and pulling him into his embrace, the pail full of clams forgotten. Vorondil found that he actually enjoyed being hugged by the Vala and tentatively hugged him back.

It was almost as good as being in his atar’s arms.

****

All words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Glorendil, godolo nin!: (Sindarin) "Laurendil, come with me".

Illi-envinyatië: All-heal, or the fragrant valerian plant (Valeriana officinalis). ‘All-heal’ is a common name of this plant. Its primary purpose, however, when used in an herbal bath, is to produce a calming effect.

Eärrossë: Sea-dew, the literal meaning of rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalis). This plant is said to stimulate hair growth and has healing properties.

Note on chronology: Elros Tar-Minyatur, first king of Númenor, died in II 442, sixty-one years before the events chronicled in this tale.

Note on the names of the plants found in the Valar’s conservatory: Many of these are adapted from Qenya.

Nornor: Plural of norno: oak.

Tasari: Plural of tasar/tasarë: willow-tree.

Malinorni: Plural of malinornë: mallorn.

Helinyetelli: Plural of helinyetellë: pansy.

Helilohti: Plural of helilohtë: wisteria.

Campilossi: Plural of campilossë: wild rose.

Cancali-malinë: Plural of cancalë-malina: "yellow laughter", daffodil.

Quinquennar: Plural of quinquenna: Solomon’s seal.

Quiquillar: Plural of quiquilla: lily-of-the-valley.

Inwetelumbi: Plural of inwetelumbë: mushroom: "fairy-canopy".

Culumaldar: Plural of culumalda: orange tree.