24: Misunderstandings

A routine was soon established. The children’s pavilion was moved into Finrod’s grove. Their Maiar attendants were charged with seeing that they kept it and themselves clean and arrived at their designated assignments on time.

"Let us not have a repeat of the painting expedition," Finrod told them. The Maiar merely grinned, making no promises. Finrod wisely decided not to press it.

"The Maiar seem to have a streak of mischief that rivals that of the elflings," Glorfindel opined. "I don’t recall them acting quite that way with me when I was last here."

Finrod smiled. "Probably because you wore them out."

Ingwion laughed when Glorfindel stuck his tongue out at Finrod. The Vanyarin prince seemed to be in no hurry to leave for Lady Nienna’s, being content to ‘loll around’, as Glorfindel put it. Ingwion did not dispute the charge.

"Actually, I’m curious to find out what Glorfindel is up to," he confided to Finrod one afternoon when Glorfindel had taken the elflings for pony rides. Even Lindorillë was permitted to go, much to her surprise and delight. "I found it rather suspicious that he changed his mind about coming here so suddenly. Something is up."

Finrod nodded. "No doubt, though I do not think Glorfindel is to blame. Something or Someone has inspired him to be here. It will be interesting to see what transpires."

"Let us hope Lórien is still intact when it does." Ingwion gave his cousin a knowing look and for once Finrod did not take it as a jest but nodded solemnly, well aware of what Ingwion was saying.

"There is always hope," he said and the matter was dropped.

****

Glorfindel, however, appeared disinclined to do anything, though he was not inactive. He actually took it upon himself to oversee Sorondil and Oromendil’s work with the Reborn, taking them to see Master Meneldil every morning and escorting them back to their pavilion when they were done. Sometimes he interacted with the Reborn themselves, though more often than not he was happy enough to merely wander through the various groves and speak to whomever he came upon, be it Elf, Maia or Vala.

It was nearly a week after they had arrived in Lórien that Glorfindel found himself wandering aimlessly along the shore of the lake when Lord Irmo approached, gesturing for him to follow. The two walked in silence for some time until they came to a particular grove in an area of Lórien Glorfindel was sure he had never seen before. He gave the Vala a quizzical look. Irmo smiled benignly at him.

"Lórien is far larger than many suspect," he said as he gestured for Glorfindel to enter the grove. "It is not surprising that you have never been here. We usually keep the Reborn secluded from the rest of Lórien so as not to overwhelm them with too many curious eyes."

Glorfindel nodded in understanding. He remembered how hard it had been to have even two other people sharing a pavilion and eating with the others had at first been a trial to him. A memory of himself at the dining pavilion grabbing a knife and going into a defensive crouch at the sound of someone laughing made him blush involuntarily and he studiously would not look at Lord Irmo but kept his gaze resolutely before him. It took a few seconds for him to realize that there was something different about this grove that defied definition. He found himself suddenly unable to breathe.

"Steady now," came the calm voice of the Vala. "You are in no danger. This grove is normally reserved for my fellow Valar, but sometimes I will bring certain others here for a chat. We’re less likely to be disturbed." He smiled at the ellon who nodded numbly, trying to regain his equilibrium.

"Come," Irmo said, gesturing towards the center of the grove where a table and two chairs were located. A carafe of wine and two cut-crystal goblets sat on the table. Glorfindel took one of the chairs and allowed the Vala to pour him some wine, which he drank with great appreciation.

"Feeling better?" the Lord of Lórien asked and Glorfindel nodded, not bothering to speak. The air in the grove still seemed menacing to him though he could not fathom why. It was actually rather peaceful here. There was a silence that went deeper than he had ever experienced, that penetrated his fëa to a degree he had never known and in a short while the wine and the silence did their work and he visibly began to relax, perhaps truly relax for the first time since leaving Mandos.

"I am rather curious as to what has brought you to my realm," Irmo said, breaking the silence that had enveloped them.

Glorfindel gave a start, sheepishly realizing that he had almost fallen asleep. He gave the Vala a puzzled look. "Did you not bring me here, lord?"

Irmo shook his head. "Neither I nor any of my fellow Valar inspired you to come here," he said. "Do you know why you changed your mind all of a sudden?"

The ellon stared into his goblet for a moment before looking up, his expression darkening. "No, I do not."

The Lord of Lórien nodded, not at all surprised. "Then perhaps we should find out. What do you say?"

"How?" Glorfindel exclaimed in frustration, standing suddenly. "I tire of these games you Valar play...."

"We play no games, Glorfindel," Irmo said sternly. "That is not our way. And as I said, none of us had anything to do with your coming here. Frankly, I wish you hadn’t."

Now Glorfindel stared at the Vala in surprise. "Wh-why?" he asked, wincing slightly at the pleading tone in his voice, as if he were an elfling not much older than Veryandur.

Irmo smiled and gestured to Glorfindel’s chair. "Sit down, child," he said not unkindly and Glorfindel sat, albeit somewhat reluctantly. The Vala sighed. "You are a lodestone for trouble, you know that."

"I don’t mean to be," Glorfindel retorted somewhat testily and Irmo chuckled.

"It’s why you’re so endearing," he replied, "and why we find you so amusing."

That made Glorfindel scowl. "I’m so glad to provide you all with entertainment," he said sarcastically.

"Now, Glorfindel, you mustn’t take it so personally," Irmo reprimanded, though his tone was mild. "We find all of you amusing, so do not think you are anything special. You are merely more amusing than most, is all. You have a way with you that defies description or definition. I do not know if this is something inherent in you or a product of your death and re-embodiment. Certainly we did not see anything in you of note prior to the Rebellion. Perhaps it was necessary for you to leave Aman and to suffer the things you did to bring out the person you truly are."

Glorfindel shrugged, not convinced and not completely mollified. "I wouldn’t know," he muttered, taking a sip of the wine and refusing to make eye contact with the Vala.

Irmo sighed and shook his head at the ellon’s truculent manner. "Glorfindel."

The sound of his name was almost a whisper and yet it held such command that the ellon involuntarily looked up. Irmo leaned over and placed a hand on his knee, a benign smile gracing his face. "You are a beloved Child of Ilúvatar, and we who are the Guardians of Arda wish only for your happiness and well being. Never doubt that or yourself."

The complete sincerity of the Vala’s words struck deep within Glorfindel’s fëa so that he was left speechless, only able to nod in understanding. Irmo patted his knee and sat back. "Good. I’m glad we have that sorted out. Now we still need to figure out why you are here."

Glorfindel sighed. "I only wish I knew," he admitted.

"Perhaps the reason will become clearer in time," Irmo opined. "In the meantime, continue as you have been. Sorondil and Ormendil have taken a liking to you. You are very good for them."

Glorfindel smiled. "Considering that only a few weeks ago they were whining little brats, their dispositions have greatly improved."

Irmo nodded in agreement. "So they have." He then gave the ellon a sly wink. "I don’t think their parents are going to recognize them when Finrod finally sends them home."

Glorfindel laughed, giving the Vala his own wink. "I certainly hope not."

****

Things continued along as they had been for a few more days and some of the Maiar began laying bets as to how long the peace of Lórien would hold before something happened. Lisselindë sniffed in disdain when she heard about it.

"Honestly, my brethren seem to do nothing but lay bets on which way these Children will go," she complained to Olórin, who was passing through Lórien on his way to Mandos and had stopped to see how the elflings were faring. "You would think that they had nothing better to do." She surreptitiously inspired Lindorillë to neaten Finrod’s writing desk after she had finished copying out the last letter that Finrod had given her to practice on. The child had apparently found her calling, for she tackled the task of acting as Finrod’s secretary with great enthusiasm, though half the time Finrod found he had to do some of her tasks over again when the elflings were asleep, for Lindorillë wasn’t quite as proficient as she thought, though she was improving. That didn’t matter. What did was the fact that the child was fairly blossoming, going about her chores of keeping the pavilions straightened and copying out letters with a smile, much to the adults’ relief. Lisselindë had even found her happily humming a tune that her brother had taught her, something he had learned from one of the Reborn Sindar.

Olórin chuckled as he watched his fellow Maia interact with the elfling though Lindorillë was unaware of their presence. "These Children are too amusing not to try to second guess them," he said in reply to Lisselindë’s protest. "I think our brethren have taken a page from our lords’ book. You know that the Fëanturi are always laying bets of one sort or another on, as you say, which way these Children will go."

"Doesn’t mean we have to imitate them," Lisselindë retorted as she gave Lindorillë an indulgent if invisible smile. The elleth was happily putting the various letters and documents into neat little piles. With luck she would discover the one letter Finrod had not asked her to copy out. Lord Findárato was not as clever as he thought he was and Lisselindë was set to prove it, with Lindorillë’s unwitting help.

"Now who’s interfering?" Olórin asked with some disapproval, though he did not try to stop her, for he had not the authority. "I sincerely hope you do not land this child into more trouble. She is still emotionally fragile and Finrod, for all that he dotes on her, is nonetheless her lord and will act accordingly."

"Hmph," was Lisselindë’s reply. "We’ll see. Our princeling needs a bit of shaking up."

"Do not forget that he was once a mighty and puissant king," Olórin said sternly. "He is not to be trifled with."

"Hey!"

The two Maiar turned to see Lindorillë pick up a certain letter and begin reading it. They watched as her eyes widened, first in surprise and then in dismay, before flinging the missive to the desk, though it ended up fluttering to the ground, and rushing out of the pavilion in tears, heedless of her path.

"Now you’ve done it," Olórin said with a sigh.

Lisselindë scowled. "That’s not what I expected," she replied as they both went outside to follow the elleth who had already disappeared from the grove.

Her fellow Maia gave her a sour grin. "So, want to bet which way she went?"

Lisselindë uttered a few choice words that set Olórin laughing in spite of the situation as they went after the still fleeing elfling.

****

Finrod returned to the pavilion sometime later to find no one there. He didn’t think about it at first, assuming Lindorillë had perhaps gone to the privy or had taken a short walk. He had not ordered her not to leave the pavilion or the grove after all. He noticed that his desk was neater than it had been when he left earlier and smiled at the image of an industrious elfling. The smile left his face, though, when he noticed a scrap of paper on the ground underneath the desk. Bending down to retrieve it, he recognized its contents and groaned inwardly.

What a fool he was!

He stormed out of the pavilion. "Ingil! Ingil!" Blast! There’s never a Maia when you want one, he thought, and when you don’t, you’re practically tripping over them. "Ingil!" But the Maia did not appear. Finrod stopped, trying to imagine where the elleth might have gone. He sincerely hoped she was not trying to run away again. Would she look for her brother? Unlikely as she had no idea where he might be at the moment. Most likely she would go somewhere specific... or perhaps to someone specific.

Having come to a decision, he made his way purposely towards a certain grove and was not surprised to find, not only Lisselindë there, but Olórin. Both Maiar were standing outside the grove’s entrance as if on guard. Lisselindë’s expression was... ‘smug’ was the only word that came to mind. Olórin’s expression was totally unreadable.

"Is she in there?" Finrod asked.

"If you are referring to a certain elleth," Olórin said pedantically, "the answer to that is... it depends."

"Depends? Depends on what?" Finrod demanded, not in the mood for Maiar games.

"On what you intend to do to her," Lisselindë replied.

Finrod stared at the two Maiar in shock. "Do to her? I’m not planning on doing anything to her. I am hoping to explain certain things...."

"Such as?" Olórin asked, arching an eyebrow.

Finrod fought to keep his temper. "Am I on trial here?"

"Perhaps," Olórin said.

That stopped Finrod cold. He stared at the two Maiar for a moment as certain conclusions began to come together in his mind. He drew himself up, giving them both an imperious look that had often set his subjects wincing in sympathy for whichever unfortunate was the object of his regard. If the Maiar were impressed, they didn’t show it. "Will you let me pass?"

Olórin shook his head. "Not this time, Prince Findaráto."

Finrod gave him a hard stare. "I’m surprised you even remember who I am," he said and then turned away without waiting for a reply, striding back towards his own grove in high dudgeon.

Lisselindë breathed a sigh of relief. "That went better than I thought it would," she said, giving her fellow Maia a faint smile.

Olórin gave her a pensive look. "Do you think so? I have my doubts. You’ve started something the consequences of which I think not even Lord Námo can safely predict. I only hope that in the end Lórien is still standing."

Lisselindë’s expression turned troubled as she pondered Olórin’s words.

****

Glorfindel arrived at their pavilion with Sorondil and Oromendil just before the noon bell rang to find Finrod sitting at his desk, a missive in his hands, his expression dark.

"Where’s Lindorillë?" he asked as he ushered the two ellyn in. "It’s almost time for luncheon."

"She’s gone," Finrod said in a flat tone, shoving the letter inside his tunic.

Sorondil gave a start. "Wh-what do you mean, lord? Wh-where’s my sister? What have you done with her?" He started looking about him as if he expected to find her hiding somewhere. Glorfindel took him by the shoulders to calm him and Finrod came out of his slump long enough to realize what he had said.

"Sorondil!" he exclaimed, standing to go to the distraught ellon. "Lindorillë is fine. She’s visiting with Melian at the moment. I’m sorry I upset you, but I assure you all is well."

The elfling sighed with obvious relief and even Oromendil looked less pale. "Why don’t you go wash up," Glorfindel said to the two ellyn. "Euranna and Veryandur should be here presently. Make sure they wash up as well."

The two elflings nodded and made their escape while Glorfindel stared at his gwador, his expression quizzical. "You want to tell me what has happened?"

"Nothing... so far," Finrod answered.

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Finrod raised an eyebrow at the imperious tone, but Glorfindel did not back down. "Later, when the children are not around. I wish to speak with Ingwion as well."

"He’s with Lady Estë, I understand," Glorfindel said, willing to allow Finrod whatever time he needed. "I’m not sure how long he will be."

Finrod shrugged. "It matters not. I will not discuss this until the children are in bed."

Glorfindel nodded. "I will hold you to that."

"Indeed?" Finrod asked with a quirk of a smile.

"Indeed," Glorfindel echoed gravely, not in the mood for levity.

****

Lindorillë did not return to the pavilion for luncheon. A message was brought to Finrod saying that she would be spending the day with Melian. Finrod simply nodded. The other elflings gave him puzzled stares.

"Did Lindë do something wrong?" Eruanna asked.

Finrod shook his head. "No, child. She has done nothing wrong. You know Lady Melian helped care for Lindorillë when she was ill?" The elflings all nodded. "Well, my aunt became very fond of her and merely wishes to spend time with her. I imagine Lindorillë will return for the evening meal."

In that, he was mistaken. Another missive arrived late in the afternoon stating that Lindorillë would be spending the night with Melian but she would return for breakfast in the morning. The other elflings all griped at that.

"She’s nothing special," her brother complained. "Why does she get to stay with a Maia and we don’t?"

Finrod and Glorfindel gave each other helpless looks, neither of them sure how to answer that. They were saved from trying by the appearance of four Maiar. Cucuandur and Nornotavaron were there along with two whom they did not recognize. Finrod gave them an enquiring look.

Cucuandur smiled. "We thought we would take the Little Ones off your hands for the night," he said, then introduced the other two Maiar. "This is Súrilindë who watches over Veryandur and Ninwanyellë who has been keeping an eye on Eruanna."

Súrilindë appeared male with reddish-gold hair and dancing green eyes. His companion was female and had hair that was bluish-green in shade, with eyes that could only be called turquoise. Eruanna stared at her in awe and Ninwanyellë laughed, holding out her hands to the elleth.

"Come, Little One," she fairly sang, "let you and I become better acquainted."

Eruanna glanced at Finrod who nodded, though his expression was not happy. "Yes, I think it would be a good idea for all of you to spend some time with your Maiar watchers. Go and enjoy yourselves. You needn’t return until breakfast tomorrow. Lindorillë will be back then as well." He raised an eyebrow at the Maiar and they all nodded.

"We will have them back then," Cucuandur said amiably and in a few short minutes changes of clothing for the morning and nightshirts were gathered along with Narmollë and Yávië and then Finrod was alone with Glorfindel.

"I don’t think Ingwion is going to be returning any time soon," Glorfindel said, settling himself into a chair. "You want to tell me what happened today?"

"Nothing happened," Finrod said.

"Finda," Glorfindel drawled, "you’re stalling. Melian didn’t just ask Lindorillë to tea, did she?"

"How do you know she didn’t?" Finrod countered, not really eager to reveal to his gwador his own stupidity.

"Because I know for a fact that Lady Melian was planning to visit some of the Reborn who originally came from Doriath."

Finrod looked at him in surprise. "How do you know that?"

Glorfindel couldn’t help smirking. "Because I was the one to suggest it to her earlier." He paused, giving Finrod a penetrating look. "Then all of a sudden she said she had to leave, that she was being called." He shrugged. "I didn’t think anything about it at the time. I assumed Lord Irmo needed her for something, but now...."

"Now?"

"Now I think you had better tell me what orc-brained disaster you’ve landed us in."

"Us? What us? And what disaster? Do you see Lórien in flames? Do you see any of the Maiar running about?" He gave Glorfindel a sarcastic sneer. "You’re the one who’s always landing us in one disaster or another."

"Fine! But something happened this morning that’s gotten you all in a tizzy. Those Maiar watchers didn’t just decide to take the elflings for the night. They were genuinely worried for them."

"So suddenly you’re an expert on raising elflings?"

"You certainly are not," Glorfindel retorted, then stopped, as if afraid he might have gone too far. Running a hand through his golden locks, he sighed. "Look, what did Lindorillë do that has you so upset?"

Finrod sighed, finally relenting, and reached into his tunic. He drew out the letter and handed it to Glorfindel. "Lindorillë was straightening up my desk while I was out and came across this letter. She was never meant to see it. In fact, no one was meant to see it. I was going to destroy it but was called away before I had a chance."

Glorfindel began reading the letter. His eyes widened as he looked up at Finrod who was now sitting at his desk. "You cannot be serious."

Finrod shook his head. "I changed my mind, which is why I was going to destroy...."

"And Lindorillë found this?"

Finrod bristled, not pleased at being interrupted when he was trying to explain... or maybe justify myself, he thought sourly. "Apparently," he said, gritting his teeth, "I went to Melian’s grove to try to explain but I...."

"You fool!" Glorfindel shouted as he leaped up, not hearing Finrod’s explanation. "Ci pen-channas en-orch a sui pen-hadhron sui iNynnedain!"

Glorfindel never saw Finrod’s fist coming.

****

Ninwanyellë: (Quenya) Blue-bell.

Súrilindë: (Quenya) Wind Song.

Ci pen-channas en-orch a sui pen-hadhron sui iNynnedain!: (Sindarin) ‘You are lacking the intelligence of an orc and are as faithless as the Easterlings!’ [iNynnedain is the plural form of Dunnadan, literally, "Swarthy Men", another name for the Easterlings, some of whom betrayed the elves at the Nirnaeth Arnediad.]