135: A Brief Respite

Vorondil and Aldundil followed Finrod back to the encampment to pick up Vorondil’s things. The five elflings, suitably subdued by the proceedings they had witnessed, were nevertheless eager to "help" Vorondil pack. Veryandur was somewhat tearful at the thought that he would be sleeping alone from now on, but Sador assured him that that would not be the case.

"I will move in with you," he told the youngster. "It’s getting a bit crowded in the other room anyway." He gave Finrod and Glorfindel a wink and they both smiled. That seemed to appease the child.

Perhaps only Sorondil, being the oldest of the elflings, fully understood what had been said at the trial; the others seemed to think that Vorondil was only going to be moving in with his atar for the rest of the tournament before they were all reunited again. Finrod decided not to disabuse them of that notion, especially where Veryandur was concerned. He was too tired and heartsick at the moment to want to deal with five distraught elflings. Instead, he took Vorondil and his atar aside for a moment and spoke quietly to them.

"I think it best if you stay away from the tournament," he said to them both. "I’m afraid it’s getting too intense for you, Vorondil."

"But, I want to see you fight, Master," the ellon said, trying to keep the tears at bay, "you and Glorfindel."

"As would I, aranya," Aldundil said quietly.

Finrod smiled. "There is no guarantee that Glorfindel and I will even fight, Aldundil," he said. "You know as well as I do that there’s always the chance that either of us will be defeated."

"Just as there’s a chance that Laurendil will start wearing his wife’s clothes, but I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one," Aldundil retorted with a wry smile.

Vorondil actually sniggered and Finrod chuckled. "Point taken," he said. "Very well then. You may both watch the fighting, but not tomorrow. I think it best you stay away for a day, take some time for yourselves." He gave Aldundil a meaningful stare and the warrior nodded. "Good. Now why don’t you say good-bye to the children, Vorondil, while your atar and I discuss a few more things between us."

Vorondil nodded and went to where the other children were waiting with his bag. They all gave him a hug, promising to visit him. Finrod, when he heard, agreed that they could all have lunch together the next day and that seemed to mollify them. Sador and Glorfindel also gave Vorondil hugs, much to his surprise, as did Laurendil and Manwen. He started crying again and Aldundil had to hold him for a moment until he could get himself under control. When the two finally left, it seemed to escape the children’s notice that they were accompanied by two Maiar.

Although it was only an hour or so before the dinner hour, Finrod stated that he needed to lie down and rest and asked the others to see to the elflings. Glorfindel and the other adults promised to keep the children away for a couple of hours so Finrod could have some peace and quiet and soon they all left to go "exploring", as Glorfindel called it, leaving Finrod alone.

****

It was after dark before Glorfindel and the others brought the children back to the compound. They had spent some time wandering through the encampment, the children fascinated by the blacksmith working on a sword and the tanner stitching up a pair of boots. They stopped and spoke to fighters and archers along the way and the children were beside themselves with delight when some of the warriors let them have a closer look at their weapons and armor. Then they went to the Leaping Frog for dinner. By the time they returned to the compound all five children were yawning; the events of the day finally catching up with them. None protested when Alassiel suggested they go to bed.

Sador was helping Veryandur get ready for bed and noticed that the child’s stuffed toy was nowhere to be found.

"Where’s Narmollë, Veryandur?" he asked as he tucked the ellon in.

Veryandur gave him a sheepish look. "I... I gave him to Vorondil," he confessed softly.

Sador sat on the edge of the cot. "Why did you do that?" he asked. "Will you not miss him?"

Veryandur nodded. "But I think Vorondil needs him more than I do right now."

Sador smiled. "That was very thoughtful of you, child."

Veryandur shrugged. "Vorondil’s my friend," he said simply.

Sador gave the ellon a hug and a kiss. "I’m glad to hear that, Veryandur. Vorondil needs all the friends he can get."

When he told the others about what Veryandur had done, they all smiled, though their smiles faded when they discovered that Finrod was not to be found anywhere in the compound and the guards had no memory of him leaving.

****

Vorondil had not bothered to unpack when he first arrived at his atar’s tent. It did not go unnoticed by either of them that all of Calalindalë’s personal effects were gone. Apparently, the Valar weren’t wasting any time getting her away. Aldundil felt a pang of guilt when he saw the tent empty of his wife’s things but put it aside to answer Vorondil’s question about sleeping arrangements.

"I’ll have another cot brought in as soon as I can find one," Aldundil said. "But we’re not going to be here that much longer I don’t think."

Vorondil shrugged. "That’s all right, Atto," he said with a grin. "I’m used to sleeping on the ground with just furs as a bed. The first night in Lórien, Master and I went camping."

Aldundil raised an eyebrow at that. "You’ll have to tell me about it, then."

They spent the next several hours talking about many things and sometimes weeping in each other’s arms, but eventually they were talked out and Vorondil began yawning, so Aldundil suggested he get ready for bed. It was as he was pulling out a nightshirt from his bag that he found Veryandur’s stuffed toy.

"What’s that?" Aldundil asked when he saw the toy, giving his son a strange look.

"Narmollë," Vorondil answered, "Veryandur’s toy. He never goes anywhere without it."

"What’s it doing in your bag?"

Vorondil shook his head. "I don’t know. Maybe... maybe he thought I might need it more than he."

Aldundil gave his son a hug. "I’m glad you have one friend who cares for you, yonya."

"But he’s an elfling!" Vorondil protested.

"And you’re not?" Aldundil retorted with a laugh.

Vorondil blushed. "I should give it back," he said.

Aldundil nodded. "Why don’t you wait until after the tournament? You don’t want to hurt his feelings if you return it too soon, do you?"

Vorondil shook his head and Aldundil gave him another hug. So for the first time in a long time, Vorondil slept with a stuffed toy nestled in his arm, a faint smile on his face. Aldundil spent some time merely gazing at his child, remembering earlier times, his heart full of love mingled with regret... and remorse.

****

Finrod slept for nearly two hours then decided to leave the encampment for the city. He donned his cloak but instead of leaving by the front entrance, he slipped under the cloth fence, deciding he simply didn’t want to have to explain to anyone where he was going. However, he hadn’t gone too far when he realized he was being followed and stopped. Turning around he found himself facing Mithlas and Gilvagor, both with grins on their faces.

"Can I do something for you, gentlemen?" Finrod asked, sounding rather imperious, not to say pompous, even to himself.

Gilvagor shook his head. "No, my lord, we’re here to do something for you."

"And that would be what exactly?" Finrod asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Guard your back," Mithlas replied.

Finrod raised an eyebrow at that. "I do not think that will be necessary."

"Glorfindel did," Gilvagor replied. "He asked us to keep an eye on you."

Now Finrod’s initial amusement turned sour. "He had no right."

"He was concerned for you, Finrod," Mithlas said quietly. "As are we."

"He also seems to know you better than you do yourself, mellon nîn," Gilvagor added before Finrod could speak. "He told us you might try to sneak away and suggested we station ourselves at either end of the compound just in case."

For a moment Finrod could only stare at the two ellyn in disbelief, then he scowled, shaking his head. "Glorfindel presumes too much."

"Which is a good thing where you are concerned," Mithlas said somewhat heatedly, then halted, realizing to whom he was speaking. Even in the flickering light of nearby torches they could see him blushing as he stammered out an apology.

Finrod merely shook his head. "Enough," he commanded quietly. "I place no blame on you. I don’t suppose if I ordered you to leave me you would obey?" he asked with a wry quirk on his lips and the other two chuckled.

"As you keep reminding us," Gilvagor replied, "you are not our king, so we’re not obligated to obey you."

"But I am a prince of Eldamar," Finrod retorted with feigned haughtiness. "Does that not count for something?"

Now the two ellyn laughed. "But we’re Tol Eressëan reprobates who have no use for Amaneldarin princes," Gilvagor answered, "so you lose on both counts."

Finrod sighed. "I’m only going to the city to visit my family. I doubt I can get into too much trouble between here and there."

"That may be true, my lord," Mithlas said, becoming more formal again, "but that isn’t to say you can’t get into trouble."

"And Glorfindel would have our hides if we failed in our duty towards you... and him," Gilvagor added.

"Very well," Finrod finally conceded. "Let us go then."

****

When they reached the palace gates, however, Finrod insisted that Mithlas and Gilvagor return to the encampment. "You both are fighting tomorrow," he pointed out, "and need your own rest. I will most likely remain here for the night, but even if I decide not to, the High King will provide me with a suitable escort."

Mithlas and Gilvagor were reluctant to leave, but not having much choice, they finally acquiesced. "I will let the others know where you are so they do not worry unduly," Gilvagor told him as they were leaving and Finrod thanked them both for their service.

Upon making enquiries, Finrod learned that his atar and amillë, along with the other royals, were just sitting down to a private meal. When he found them in the family’s private dining hall, he was welcomed gladly and invited to join them for the meal. It did not escape his notice that Ingwion was not with them.

"He refuses to speak to us," Elindis said softly, hurt in her eyes.

Finrod shook his head. "I better talk to him. I don’t want him brooding this night when he has to fight me tomorrow."

"Perhaps if we postponed..." Arafinwë began to suggest but Finrod cut him off.

"Nay, Atar. That would not be wise. Glorfindel wouldn’t let me back out of fighting. I’m not going to let Ingwion back out. I will speak to him."

He then piled some food on a couple of plates, put them on a tray and with a brief bow showed himself out in search of his cousin’s room.

****

"Ingwion, open up," Finrod demanded as he kicked the door with his boot, his hands occupied with the tray. "I’ve got a tray full of food that I’m about to drop."

It took a minute before Ingwion complied but finally the door opened. Finrod could see the ellon had been crying, his eyes red and puffy. He sighed and went inside, placing the tray on a table in the sitting room. There were no lamps lit here, the only light coming from the open doorway.

"This won’t do, Cousin," he said briskly and proceeded to light some tapers and stoke the fire in the fireplace. In the early spring night there was still a definite chill in the air and the fire was welcome.

Ingwion, meanwhile, had closed the door and simply stood there silently watching Finrod putter about. Once satisfied that there was sufficient light and heat in the room, Finrod turned to Ingwion and took him into his embrace.

"You need to eat, Cousin," he said softly. "I won’t have you fainting on me in the middle of our bout tomorrow."

"I’m not fighting," Ingwion said, sounding listless and drained of emotion.

Finrod stepped back to look at his older cousin. "Yes, Ingwion, you are," he said decisively. "Glorfindel wouldn’t let me get away with self-pity and I’m not going to let you get away with it either."

Ingwion just stared at Finrod, his expression bleak. "I miss him," he whispered and started weeping quietly, sounding desolate and lost.

Finrod sighed and gathered him into his arms again and rocked him. "I know. When Atar told me what happened I grieved for you all. I’m so sorry, otornonya, more than you can ever know."

"Why won’t Lord Námo..."

"Hush," Finrod interrupted. "There’s no point in questioning Lord Námo’s motives. If he hasn’t been released, it’s for a reason. You must take comfort in the thought that he is happy and safe and someday he will be returned to you."

Finrod held Ingwion for a while longer, giving him time to get himself under control. "Now, I’ve brought some food for us both. Even if you’re not interested in eating, I need to keep up my strength if I’m to beat you to a fare-thee-well tomorrow."

"Oh?" Ingwion drawled, his mien lightning. "Just where is it written that you will be the one doing the beating?"

Finrod grinned. "That’s more like it. A self-pitying Ingwion is not the cousin I know and love."

Ingwion shook his head, looking sorrowful again. "It’s been almost eight yéni, but it feels as if it were only yesterday. I should have died, too." He stopped and gave Finrod a searching look. "I think I might have gone slightly insane at the time. They couldn’t leave me alone for long. Atar even asked Lord Manwë for the loan of some of his Maiar to keep an eye on me. Everyone thought I would try to... to kill myself."

"And were you?" Finrod asked softly, full of compassion.

Ingwion looked down, not able to accept the love and understanding he saw in his cousin’s eyes. "I think perhaps I was, but I little remember that time, except for the... the emptiness inside me."

For a moment neither spoke, then Finrod hugged Ingwion again. "I have no answers for you, or at least, none that would satisfy you. I can only tell you this: I love you. There’s an entire room full of people just down the hall who love you if you will just let them. Don’t shut us out, meldonya. That is not what he would have wanted for any of you."

Ingwion nodded, not looking up. Finrod clapped him on the shoulder. "Come, let us eat and plot how we will amaze the fair people of Eldamar with our sword-fighting tomorrow."

Ingwion actually grinned. "I think they will accuse us of staging the event."

Finrod feigned shock. "They wouldn’t dare!" he protested in mock dismay. "Why we are the very soul of honesty and good conduct. I insist that we draw straws to see who gets to lose."

Now Ingwion was laughing in spite of himself and Finrod joined him. "Let’s eat and then I think I will take my leave of you. I had thought to stay the night, but I think I should return to the encampment so none can accuse us of collusion."

"They probably think that already, considering our familial relationship," Ingwion snorted.

"Well, in that case, I will stay," Finrod decided. "I think I would enjoy spending one night away from the encampment."

"I can see that your usual rooms are made ready..." Ingwion began but Finrod shook his head.

"I think I would prefer sleeping outdoors, perhaps in a tree. It’s been some time since I’ve done that."

Ingwion gave his cousin a jaundiced look. "Tree? You want to sleep in a tree? Why?"

"You’ve never done so?"

Ingwion shook his head, "Not that I recall, no."

"Well, I think it’s about time you did, Cousin," Finrod said decisively. "In fact, I insist. Let’s finish our meal and then we’ll go find a nice tree to sleep in."

So they quickly ate their dinner and then donned their cloaks. Stepping out into the corridor, though, they ran into Ingwë and Arafinwë coming to see them.

"Where are you two off to?" Ingwë asked, seeing them wrapped in their cloaks.

"We’re going into the gardens to find a nice tree to sleep in, Uncle," Finrod replied.

"Tree?" Ingwë asked disbelievingly.

"That’s what I said," Ingwion retorted with a small smile.

Finrod merely laughed. "It’s really very relaxing," he assured the High King, "and quite safe."

"Well, as long as you don’t fall out," Ingwë drawled with a wry smile.

Both ellyn gave him shocked looks as the two kings laughed. "We’ll see you on the morrow, then, híninyar," Arafinwë said, reaching over to give his son a hug and a kiss. Ingwë did the same for his own son.

Then with a wicked grin, Finrod grabbed Ingwion’s hand and started running down the corridor. "C’mon, Cousin," he said with undisguised glee, "there’s an oak tree with our names on it."

As the two ellyn disappeared around the corner, Ingwë started chuckling. "And he means that literally."

Arafinwë gave him a quizzical look.

"When you sent Findaráto here for a time when he was... what? Thirty?" Arafinwë nodded. "Anyway, I caught him one day carving his and everyone else’s name on one of the oaks in the lower garden."

Arafinwë evinced shock at that revelation. "Why wasn’t I told?"

"Well, he was suitably punished and the matter was dropped," Ingwë said, then gave his nephew a wry grin. "Though I’m not sure the tree ever forgave him."

Arafinwë snorted at that. "Well, if we hear a loud yell followed by a thump as they’re pushed out of the tree, we’ll know, won’t we?"

The two kings started laughing as they made their way back to their wives.

As it was, the night was quiet, save for the soft singing of a half-sleepy oak where two ellyn slept blissfully arm-in-arm.

****

Híninyar: My children.

Note on timeframe: Eight yéni equals 1152 solar years. The events to which Ingwion alludes occurred during the Time of the Darkening which began 1142 years previous to this story.