4: Further Truths Revealed

Finrod woke shortly after dawn, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, wondering where he was and how had he gotten there. It took several minutes for him to recollect the events of the previous day and he sat up, looking about in concern. Glorfindel lay in the cot next to him, still asleep. A basin of water sat on a small table, steaming, and Finrod got up quietly and went through his ablutions, being careful not to make too much noise. Throwing on his clothes, he stepped outside to bright sunshine.

"Awake at last, are we?" came the cheerful voice of Lord Námo.

Finrod could not help but smile at the sight of the Lord of Mandos ensconced in his chair beside a campfire. A small cauldron was suspended over it by a tripod and hook and Finrod could smell porridge bubbling away. "I don’t remember going to bed," he admitted as he came up to the fire. Námo pointed to a kettle sitting beside the fire.

"Tea," he said and Finrod nodded, filling a small tin cup with the hot drink and spooning some of the porridge into a wooden bowl. There were apple slices and raisins in bowls sitting on a low table nearby, along with a bowl of cinnamon and a pitcher of milk.

"All the comforts of home, without being home," Finrod said sardonically as he sat in the chair Námo provided him, a regular folding camp chair rather than the ornate chair of the night before.

Námo sighed. "I truly regret this has happened, best beloved, we all do. The fact of the matter is, we have no idea how to bring you back. That is something you and Glorfindel will need to work out for yourselves."

"And if we never do," Finrod demanded, "what then?"

"I have every confidence that you will find a way," Námo replied, not answering the question, for in truth, he had no answer to give. "I trust Ilúvatar will not abandon you here for all time. A way will be found."

Finrod set his half-eaten bowl of porridge on the ground before him, looking troubled. "How... how is everyone taking this?" he asked worriedly.

"Not well, as you can imagine," Námo replied with a scowl. "Your atar and Ingwë, especially..."

"The elflings and Vorondil?"

Námo gave Finrod a considering look. "The elflings are in Lórien along with Alassiel, Amarïe and your amillë. Vorondil and his atar are with my sister. Ingwion, Sador, Beleg and Laurendil seem to be the only ones who are not incapacitated by grief over what has happened."

Finrod nodded and gave the Vala a thin smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "I’m not surprised. Sador and Beleg have faced death... this is nothing new. Ingwion, though...."

"Your cousin is holding up remarkably well," Námo answered with a smile. "I think he’s determined not to look anything less than competent before your otornor, especially Laurendil, who is ready to take on all the Valar in his quest to find answers."

Finrod raised an eyebrow at that, then gave Námo a more genuine smile tinged with mischief. "Well, if he gives you any further trouble, remind him from me what happened the last time he mouthed off to his betters."

Námo raised his own eyebrow. "Oh?"

The once King of Nargothrond gave a short laugh. "And he’s regretted it ever since." He took a sip of his tea.

"I see," was all Námo said to that, then he looked up. "Ah, your partner in crime is awake."

Finrod snorted the tea he was swallowing and gave the Vala a jaundiced look, but Námo merely sat there looking suitably inscrutable and innocent at the same time. Before Finrod could say anything, Glorfindel stepped out of the tent with a scowl as he made his way to the fire.

"Good morning," Námo said brightly as Finrod contented himself with a smile at his gwador.

"Is it?" Glorfindel muttered as he poured some tea for himself. "I hadn’t noticed."

Finrod and Námo exchanged looks — a worried one on Finrod’s part, an amused one on the Vala’s part.

"What’s wrong, gwador?" Finrod asked quietly.

Glorfindel’s scowl deepened. "What isn’t wrong?" he exclaimed. "We’re here, wherever here is, and he," — the elf gestured with a defiant nod of his chin at Námo — "claims not to know how to get us back home."

"You don’t believe him," Finrod stated, feeling sad all of a sudden at Glorfindel’s intransigence.

"No, I do not!" Glorfindel shouted, throwing his half drunk cup of tea to the ground and stalking off, refusing to look at either Finrod or Námo.

Finrod started to go after him, but Námo stayed him with a gesture. "Nay, best beloved," he said, "let him go. He needs time."

Finrod sat back down reluctantly, his expression troubled. "I’m sorry, I don’t know why..."

"There’s no need to apologize," Námo said. "Glorfindel is still quite young emotionally. He’s finding it more difficult to adjust to his circumstances and his... flight has not helped matters."

"I wish I understood what that’s all about," Finrod said with a sigh, furrowing his brow.

"As do we," Námo replied, looking equally troubled.

Finrod gave the Vala a surprised look. "You don’t know?"

Námo’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. "There are many things we do not know, Findaráto. Do not be so surprised that Glorfindel is as much a mystery to us as he is to you."

"Glorfindel isn’t a mystery, lord," Finrod responded with a chuckle. "If anything, he’s too transparent, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing."

"No, it isn’t," Námo agreed with a faint trace of amusement. "At any rate, I have his ring and the pendant Ingwë gave him." Námo held out a hand and Finrod saw the peridot ring and the pendant. "Give these to him when he’s calmer."

Finrod reached over and took the objects from the Vala. "You’re leaving?"

Námo smiled. "Only for a time. I think Glorfindel will calm down sooner if I’m not around. Do not worry, no harm can come to you here, I assure you. Concentrate on thinking how to return to your proper sphere. My brethren and I will do the same. Hopefully, between us, we will find a solution. We will check on you twice a day but if you need anything in the meantime, you need only shout, literally," he gave him a mischievous smile. "One of us will always be... on watch duty, even if you do not see them."

Finrod nodded reluctantly, wishing the Vala would stay. Somehow the presence of the Lord of Mandos seemed comforting and he felt less lost with him there. "I will see that Glorfindel gets these, though I wonder at the pendant."

"I have a feeling it may hold the key to all this, but how, I do not know. Aulë...." Námo stopped as if fearing to say too much and gave the elf a deprecating smile. "Well, at any rate, it can’t hurt."

Finrod nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, though for what he was thanking the Vala he was not sure.

Námo stood and pulled Finrod into his embrace, giving him a gentle smile and a kiss on his brow. "You are quite welcome, child." Then he was simply not there and Finrod sat back slowly in his chair with a sigh, deep in thought, the ring and pendant forgotten in his hand.

****

Glorfindel returned about an hour later, still in a bad mood. "Is he finally gone?" he asked Finrod as he came back to the fire.

"I really don’t like your tone, Glorfindel," Finrod said, sounding more like his atar or Ingwë.

The younger ellon cringed but refused to apologize. Instead he stared at what Finrod still held in his hands and with a cry, grabbed them, clutching the ring and pendant to his breast.

"Where did you get these?" he demanded almost accusingly.

Finrod’s eyes narrowed in disapproval as he rose from his chair to face Glorfindel. "Lord Námo retrieved them for you. Had you been more gracious he might have presented them to you himself. As it is, he asked me to do it."

Glorfindel had the grace to look abashed. "Sorry," he muttered, not looking at Finrod as he put the ring on his finger. "I don’t know why I’m acting this way," he said by way of apology. "I can hear myself ranting but I can’t seem to stop myself."

"I suspect it’s the strangeness of the situation, gwador," Finrod said solicitously, putting a comforting hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "Lord Námo said that your pendant might hold the key to getting us out of here," he added, hoping to distract the younger elf from his moroseness.

Glorfindel looked up in surprise. "How?"

Finrod shook his head. "He did not know. He only said that it might be the key." He sighed then, stepping away from the fire to take in the surroundings. "Lord Námo assured me no harm can come to us, but I am not easy here. Let’s break camp and move further into the mountains. I’ll feel more secure there."

Glorfindel frowned. "D-do you think the... ban still applies here? I mean if that truly is Taniquetil?" He pointed up at the towering peaks of the mountains before them.

Finrod shrugged, then smiled. "I doubt it," he said with more assurance than he really felt. "For one thing, there’s no Ilmarin at the top of the peak and for another I don’t intend to climb all the way, just to about where Ingwë’s palace would be."

"Oh, well then," Glorfindel said with some relief, "that’s all right." He put the pendant over his head and gave Finrod the first genuine smile he had seen on his gwador’s visage since they had come here. "I’ll see to the fire if you want to take down the tent."

Finrod nodded, smiling. "We’ll find a way out of this, Glorfindel," he said. "Lord Námo is confident that Ilúvatar will not abandon us here."

Glorfindel did not respond, merely nodding as he went about putting out the fire. In a short time they had the camp struck. The amount of supplies however necessitated that they make at least two trips, possibly three. "It’s going to be a stiff climb to the promontory," Finrod pointed out. "I’d rather take a few items at a time."

Glorfindel agreed and in fact it took several trips to bring everything to the new campsite. Thus, it was noon before they were finished. They stopped long enough to chew on some cheese and bread and apples before going about the business of setting up the new camp. There was a small shovel with the supplies, so while Finrod pitched the tent, Glorfindel dug the firepit, then went over to a stand of trees that hugged the mountain to the north and dug a latrine. Not knowing how long they might be there, he made it a sizeable one, so it was several hours before he finished. Sauntering back to the camp he saw that Finrod had lined the firepit with rocks and was setting up the tripod. The ellon looked up at him with a smile. "All set?"

Glorfindel nodded as he hunkered down beside Finrod, idly adding more kindling. "Do you think we can eat early? I’m starving."

"I’m not surprised, considering you had no breakfast and lunch was barely adequate."

Glorfindel looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, I just...." he gestured helplessly, then gave Finrod a confused look. "I had the strangest dream."

"About what?" Finrod asked quietly.

The other ellon shrugged. "I was running and then there was this enormous flame that tried to surround me. Someone came and comforted me and then I woke up."

Finrod kept his expression neutral and chose his words carefully. "I’m sure it was just a product of your anxiety and don’t forget that flame we saw just before we found ourselves here."

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes... you’re probably right."

"Well, why don’t we see about putting dinner together?" Finrod said more briskly. "All that lugging our supplies up here has given me an appetite, too."

Glorfindel grinned. "I’ll check the hampers."

****

It was just after sunset. Their dinner was a thing of the past and they were sitting at their leisure before the fire enjoying the spring evening. There was no breeze so the air was not as cool as it might otherwise be. In one of the hampers they had discovered a flagon of wine and were now enjoying the deep rich red drink with its hint of oak and raspberries. Stars were beginning to peek out and the two ellyn were feeling very relaxed in spite of their situation. Glorfindel was even humming softly to himself.

Finrod smiled at his gwador as he took a sip of his wine and looked westward to where the sun was just slipping below the horizon. "Ah," he said with a nod. "At least Eärendil is with us."

Glorfindel looked up, startled. "What did you say?"

"Eärendil," Finrod repeated, gesturing with his goblet towards the western skies.

Glorfindel stood and stared into the west, though not at the sky, shading his eyes. "Where?" he asked in confusion. "I don’t see anyone and anyway, how do you know it’s Eärendil? You’ve never met him."

Now Finrod went to stand beside the other ellon, pointing not down upon the plain but into the sky. "There, just to the left of that stand of trees. See the star? It’s shining bright. Almost I would say that it appears to be nearer than usual it is so bright."

Glorfindel turned to Finrod with a puzzled look. "What are you blathering on about, gwador?" he asked. "Why would Eärendil be in the sky? How would he be there? You’re not making any sense."

Now it was Finrod’s turn to look nonplused. "Glorfindel," he said carefully, "do you not see the bright star just above the horizon?" Again he pointed towards where Eärendil shone.

Glorfindel looked to where Finrod was pointing. He saw several stars there, for the sun was long gone and it was now almost fully dark, yet none of the stars in that part of the sky were what he would consider bright. He turned back to Finrod, and seeing the look in his gwador’s eyes, almost quailed, feeling that something terrible or at least momentous was about to happen. "No," he whispered. "There is no bright star there. I don’t see anything."

"Melkor’s balls!"

Both elves turned with a gasp at the sound of someone behind them and found themselves facing a very nonplused Námo. The Vala stood there in stygian gloom, his expression sterner than they had ever seen it and the two elves started backing up in fear. Námo scowled, looking directly at Glorfindel. "You weren’t supposed to know about Eärendil for centuries yet."