115: A Meeting With Parents

Ingwë led the way to an antechamber, keeping a firm grip on Glorfindel’s arm. The ellon was still in a state of shock and barely responded to Ingwë’s enquiry. When asked if he was well, he simply nodded, though no one actually believed him. As soon as the doors of the antechamber closed, there was pandemonium as several people tried to speak to Ingwë at the same time.

"What were you trying to prove..." Olwë began.

"Are you mad, Uncle?" Arafinwë interrupted.

"And everyone says my methods are odd," Finrod chimed in, smiling faintly, though no one heard him.

"Are you all right, hanno?" Sador asked Glorfindel, who did not respond.

"SILENCE!"

Everyone, except the still stunned Glorfindel, turned in surprise to stare at Ingwion, who was still carrying his atar’s sword. The ellon stood by the door, looking both pleased and disgusted at the same time. Ignoring the stunned looks of the others he went to Ingwë and with a brief bow handed back the High King’s sword, which Ingwë accepted.

"I’m proud of you, Atar," Ingwion said fervently. "I don’t think I would have such courage."

Ingwë gave his son a warm smile. "Thank you, hinya. I am honored that you think so, but I disagree with you about the last. You are more courageous than I on many levels."

Ingwion was about to reply to that when Glorfindel spoke up, sounding somewhat distant and detached. "Is it all right if I’m sick now?" he asked no one in particular.

Immediately, everyone’s attention was on Glorfindel. Sador, ever practical, grabbed a flower vase, emptying it of its chrysanthemums and tiger-lilies, and thrust it under Glorfindel’s nose. Finrod placed a solicitous hand on the ellon’s forehead and sang softly a song of renewal of the fëa, while the other three kings advised him to put his head between his knees and take deep breaths. Glorfindel ignored them all, swaying slightly, his eyes half-closed.

At that point Manveru and Erunáro appeared, looking concerned. Manveru actually snapped his fingers in front of Glorfindel’s face and receiving no real response turned to his brother in the Thought of Ilúvatar. "Find Lord Námo."

Erunáro nodded and was gone. Manveru, meanwhile, took Glorfindel by the shoulders and led him to a couch and convinced the ellon to lie down. Sador pulled the ellon’s boots off to make him more comfortable.

"He’s very pale and his skin is clammy," Finrod said worriedly.

"He’s in a state of shock," Manveru replied. "He may be ready to slip his leash again."

Everyone stared at the Maia in consternation.

"Slip his leash?" Olwë asked, sounding perplexed. "What do you mean by that?"

Before anyone could answer him, though, there was a stir in the air and then Námo was there, his visage grim. "What happened?" he demanded, looking directly at Ingwë.

Several eyebrows went up at that and Námo hid a smile. "Contrary to popular opinion, my children, we are not privy to everything that goes on in Aman. Now, what happened?"

Ingwë swallowed and then briefly explained what had occurred at the ceremony between him and Glorfindel. Námo’s eyes brightened when Ingwë got to the part about removing his crown and asking Glorfindel for his forgiveness. "I fear he wasn’t expecting that," Ingwë finished ruefully.

Both Arafinwë and Olwë snorted at that. "None of us were, Uncle," Arafinwë stated.

Námo merely nodded and looked compassionately down at the supine ellon staring up at the ceiling. He bent over Glorfindel and placed a gentle hand on his forehead. "Come back, child," he whispered, though there was a sense of command in his tone that brooked no denial. For several minutes Glorfindel did not respond, then suddenly he gave a gasp and his body arched before settling back down on the couch. He blinked several times before his eyes focused on Námo.

"M-my lord?"

"How are you feeling, best beloved?" Námo asked.

Glorfindel shook his head. "Tired."

"Then you should rest," Námo told him. A blanket appeared from nowhere and he covered the ellon with it. "The Ball will not start for a couple of hours yet, so rest now until it’s time to attend. You’ll feel better after a brief sleep."

Glorfindel merely nodded, not having the energy to argue. Shortly thereafter, his eyes unfocused and he was slipping onto the Path of Dreams. Námo motioned to the others that they should leave Glorfindel to his rest, ordering the two Maiar to remain on watch. The rest followed the Lord of Mandos into an adjacent antechamber.

Once they were altogether again, Námo turned to Ingwë with a look of approval. "We wondered if you would own up to your mistakes in this little farce of yours, Ingwë."

The High King paled at the reprimand but he bowed briefly in acknowledgment of the Vala’s words. Námo nodded.

"I am pleased that you did what you did. It took much courage on your part... though it probably would have been better had you at least warned Glorfindel of your intent. He’s suffered enough shocks lately and his fëa was close to leaving his hröa, something we don’t want happening again, do we?"

He gave Ingwë a meaningful look. The High King merely shook his head, suddenly feeling like an errant elfling being scolded by his atar. And I was never an elfling, errant or otherwise, to begin with, he thought to himself with grim humor.

Námo nodded again, his mien lightening. "That’s good. Let us all remember that. You... Once-born," — several eyebrows went up at that and Námo actually smiled — "little understand how fragile Glorfindel’s state is at this point. Findaráto and Sador probably understand better, but Glorfindel...." The Vala shook his head and gave Sador a knowing look. "You are right, best beloved, to think that you were not the only one released from Mandos earlier than would be normal. Glorfindel’s Judgment came sooner than I liked, but the circumstances..." he shook his head somewhat ruefully. "Well, that’s neither here nor there now. Glorfindel should be recovered by the time he must appear at the Ball. Now, if you will excuse me."

Námo gave them all a brilliant smile and was simply not there. Everyone unconsciously gave a sigh of relief. Ingwë turned to Finrod.

"I’ve had the parents of those five elflings you... er... captured brought here. They are waiting for us, if you care to join me."

Finrod nodded. "Yes, let’s get this over with. Sador, with me."

Sador gave him a look of surprise but gathered himself together and nodded. Ingwë indicated that Ingwion should accompany them. Elindis acted as hostess to the others, but Arafinwë slipped out after five minutes to go back to Glorfindel and help the Maiar watch over the still sleeping ellon.

****

The parents were waiting in the small audience room. It was only a third the size of the main throne room and had only a simple one-tier dais and a gilded chair before a wall of stained glass depicting Oromë coming upon the Eldar in Cuiviénen. The light of Isil shone coldly through the glass, casting an eerie glow of colors across the white marble floor. Chairs had been set up before the throne for the parents. Another more ornate chair was placed to the right of the throne for Finrod to sit in. Sador took a position on Finrod’s right, while Ingwion stood between the two thrones. Ingwë had removed the Crown of State and now wore only a simple mithril circlet. Finrod continued wearing his crown of chrysanthemums.

The parents, anxious and tearful, gave Ingwë their obeisance and the High King asked them to be seated. Introductions were made and the parents looked with wonder upon the Reborn prince. None of them were members of the High King’s court, but were artisans and merchants.

When the introductions were made, Ingwë said, "I regret that I must call you here, but I fear that circumstances warrant it."

One of the ellyn spoke up then. "Please, Sire, where are our children? All we were told was that they were in the king’s custody."

Finrod spoke then. "That king would be me."

"You?" the same ellon asked in surprise.

Finrod nodded. "Rest assured, your children are safe and well. At the moment they are asleep within my compound and are under my protection."

One of the ellith, who turned out to be Veryandur’s amillë, then spoke, looking confused. "I don’t understand. Why are they there? How did they get there? They were fast asleep."

"Or they merely wished for you to think so, Mistress," Finrod said with a grim smile. "As to how they ended up in the encampment... it seems that Sorondil and his sister along with Oromendil decided they would sneak into the encampment at night to see what there was to see, little realizing that at night the patrols would be more vigilant, not less."

"Young Veryandur and Oromendil’s cousin, Eruanna... tagged along," Ingwë added.

"We caught them sneaking in," Finrod continued, "and as punishment, they have taken an oath of service to me."

"What?" Veryandur’s amillë stood up in shock. "What do you mean? They’re just elflings. You can’t do this!"

The other parents equally began protesting, but Ingwë gave them all a quelling look and they subsided. "Peace," he said. "All has been done with my approval. Now please, resume your seats and we will explain."

The parents sat and Ingwë and Finrod looked upon them with compassion. All of them had looks of disbelief and concern for their children. Veryandur’s amillë was softly weeping, her husband wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Finrod sighed and gave Ingwë a glance. The High King nodded and Finrod returned his attention to the parents. "Believe me, I wish it were otherwise, but your children put themselves and us in grave danger. We mean to make them examples so that other children from the city are not tempted to do something similar."

Oromendil’s atar spoke up, sounding somewhat belligerent. "What do you mean to do with them then? Turn them into thralls like that... what’s his name... that Noldo brat?"

Finrod’s demeanor turned suddenly cold and his expression was darker than Ingwë remembered seeing. The parents all stared at him in dread. "Your children," he said softly, "are not my thralls. They are in my service. Nothing will be done to them that would shame them or dishonor them or cause them any kind of pain. They will be treated as if they were my own elflings. That is not to say, however, that they will not be punished for what they did."

"What sort of punishment?" Eruanna’s amillë asked. "Is it not the right of the parents to punish their own children? Why have you arrogated this duty to yourself, lord?"

Finrod sighed, not sure these Vanyar, with no understanding of what it means to live in a military society, would understand. "The moment they stepped into the encampment, your children ceased to be under the protection of the High King. They unlawfully entered my domain. It would be as if they had transgressed a law of Tirion or Alqualondë, except they are answerable to me rather than to my atar or anatar."

"You still haven’t told us what you mean to do to our children," demanded Sorondil’s atar.

Finrod gave him a cool glance. "Your son and daughter and Oromendil appear to have been the ringleaders of this little escapade. For that reason I have decided that their term of service will be for one year of the Sun. They will act as my pages, running errands, serving at table, and such. I will see that their usual studies are not neglected. If they are not serving me directly, they will be living in Tirion under my atar’s protection."

"And Veryandur?" his amillë asked. "What of our son?"

"And our daughter?" asked Eruanna’s atar.

Finrod actually smiled. "They were the first to offer to take oath to me, and for that reason their term of servitude will be shorter. I will take them to Lórien with me when I return there and they will remain there until Midsummer."

"What will they do there?" Eruanna’s atar asked, looking perplexed.

"I’m sure Lord Irmo or Lady Estë will have some ideas," Finrod replied and no one felt brave enough to gainsay his words.

"May we see them?" Oromendil’s amillë asked somewhat fearfully.

Finrod shook his head. "They are fast asleep by now. You may see them later today for a brief time an hour past noon. I will supply them with anything they need in the way of clothes and such but if they have a favorite toy that they might wish to have you may bring them with you. I will arrange for you to see your children separately, however, you will not be allowed to see them alone. My own people will chaperone the meetings."

At this point Ingwë spoke up. "I assure you that my nephew will treat your children with respect and even love. You need have no fear for their well-being or safety." He gave Finrod a brief glance and a smile before resuming speaking. "If it helps any, I will have my people check on your children from time to time."

"I will not sever all communication between you and your children," Finrod said then, "but it will be severely limited. Letters will be acceptable." He looked at Sorondil, Lindorillë and Oromendil’s parents. "You may see them again at Midsummer and on their begetting days. They will be released from my service at the next New Year. As for Veryandur and Eruanna," here he turned to their parents, his expression softening, "I will allow you to see them on their begetting days if they come before Midsummer, as well as one day each month until they are released from my service."

Veryandur’s amillë spoke then, looking uncertain. "They’ve never been away from home before."

Finrod nodded. "And I will endeavor to so overburden them with duties they will be too tired at the end of the day to feel homesick. In time they will adjust... as will you."

Ingwë stood then and everyone else rose. "It is settled then," he said solemnly. "Again, I regret this has happened, but if it had not been your children, it would have been someone else’s. Yours simply got to the encampment first. Let us hope they will also be the last. Go now, and later today I will send my people to escort you to see your children."

The parents reluctantly gave their obeisance to the High King and then, even more reluctantly, to Finrod. In moments they were being escorted away. When they were alone, Ingwë turned to Finrod with a thin smile. "So now you have six elflings to contend with. Your entourage is growing, Nephew. Should I be worried?"

Finrod gave a short laugh. "Actually, Uncle, you’ve miscounted. I have seven elflings to deal with."

Ingwë gave Finrod a surprised look. "Oh? Who’s the seventh?"

At that point both Ingwion and Sador snickered. "Glorfindel, of course," Sador answered the High King.

Ingwë suddenly laughed. "In that case, I think I really should be worried," he retorted.

The others joined the High King in laughter.