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Elf, Interrupted: Book Two: Glorfindel's Quest  by Fiondil

25: Repercussions

"All right, I’ve got this one."

"And I’ve got the other. Glorfindel, stop it at once!"

Glorfindel continued thrashing in spite of the shaking someone was giving him. He was making inarticulate sounds, not really words, for he was beyond them, his fury at Finrod consuming him.

"This is no good," he heard someone say. The voice was familiar but he couldn’t place it and anyway, seeing Finrod before him just made him angrier and he tried to slip from the grasp of whoever was holding him so he could go and strangle his stupid gwador, but failed; whoever had a hold of him merely tightened his grip.

"The lake."

That reference made no sense to him until he felt himself being thrown into the air and then... splash!

"Argh!" he sputtered as he came up for air. The cold of the water had doused his ire completely and for a few minutes he was too busy trying to swim to shore to care about anything or anyone else. He dragged himself onto the bank. It took a few seconds for his brain to register the fact that he was staring at a pair of black suede leather boots, intricately tooled along the top with depictions of flora and fauna. He had to tip his head way back to see to whom these particular boots belonged and felt his blood freeze at the sight of Lord Irmo looking down at him dispassionately.

He attempted to scramble to his feet or at least to his knees but the grass was wet and slippery and he couldn’t seem to get a purchase. Then he felt someone grab him by the collar and haul him up, dripping and looking like a half-drowned puppy.

"That’s better."

Glorfindel winced at the tone. From the corner of his eye he could see Finrod was standing before Lord Námo, equally dripping. The expression on the Lord of Mandos’ face was almost too terrible for him to bear and he had to look away. Unfortunately the only other place to look was into Lord Irmo’s eyes, and while the Lord of Lórien did not appear quite as forbidding as his brother, that did not comfort Glorfindel in the least.

For a long eternal moment there was only silence. Glorfindel became conscious of the fact that they had an audience and cringed further when he realized that a contingent of warrior Maiar led by Manveru and Erunáro surrounded them in a half-circle. He wasn’t sure if they were there to keep curious bystanders away or to keep him and Finrod from escaping. He rather thought the latter, seeing as how all the Maiar were facing in rather than out. None of them looked pleased to be there.

He felt a hand on his chin, forcing him to look at Lord Irmo again. The Vala stared relentlessly into Glorfindel’s eyes and the ellon heard himself whimper but could not look away. Finally, Irmo looked away and Glorfindel felt such relief that he almost fainted but someone held him up until he could regain his equilibrium.

"I think we can take this to a more private venue," Irmo said to Námo, who nodded. Glorfindel noticed with surprise that the Lord of Mandos was holding a weeping Finrod in his arms. The sight of his gwador crying struck him to the core of his fëa and he could feel sympathetic tears begin to form in his own eyes.

"Manveru, Erunáro, take them to our grove," Námo said, handing a still weeping Finrod to Erunáro while Glorfindel found himself being taken in hand by Manveru. "See that they don’t destroy it before we get there."

The two Maiar bowed to the Valar and without a word led the two ellyn away. Glorfindel found he no longer had the strength to do much more than put one foot in front of the other, the energy he had spent in fighting Finrod gone, leaving him feeling weak and disoriented. Manveru actually had to carry him the last few hundred feet to the grove, much to his embarrassment.

It was the same grove in which Glorfindel had had his conversation with Lord Irmo only a few short days before. The two Maiar remained silent as they stripped their charges of their wet clothes and dried them off before helping them to dress again. All this time, neither ellon felt able to protest their being treated like elflings. Finrod had stopped weeping finally but his expression was apathetic. Glorfindel didn’t feel that much better. Once dried and dressed again, they were led to cots where they were encouraged to lie down. Glorfindel was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

****

Birdsong woke him and he stared up into the sky feeling confused. It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts and remember what had happened earlier. Sitting up carefully, for he felt a bit lightheaded, he looked about him. Finrod was in a cot next to him still sleeping. Their cots were along one side of the grove opposite the entrance. In the center was a table with four chairs around it. There was no one else about. He rose gingerly, still feeling unsettled, and walked towards the table where he found goblets and a carafe of water. Realizing how thirsty he was he poured himself a drink, sitting as he took a long swallow.

"Hey, save some for me."

He turned to see a pale Finrod move toward him, staggering slightly, his eyes still a bit unfocused as he grabbed for one of the chairs and plopped down. Glorfindel silently reached over and poured more water into another goblet, idly wondering why the carafe was still full, and then handed it to Finrod whose hands were shaking as he clutched the goblet. A sip or two of the water, however, seemed to help and he looked less pale and drawn and his trembling ceased.

"How did we get here?" Finrod asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

Glorfindel shook his head. He took another sip of water, trying to remember what had happened. Flashes of memory crossed his mind’s eyes and he saw himself reading a letter, then saying something to Finrod and then... nothing... except suddenly finding himself swimming in the lake.

"I’m not sure," he said, surprised to hear his own voice sounding hoarse. "I think perhaps we... I did something... stupid."

"You are both a disgrace to elvenkind."

The two ellyn looked up to see Lords Irmo and Námo approaching. It was Irmo who had spoken. Neither looked happy. The elves tried to get to their feet to give the Valar their obeisance but Irmo motioned for them to remain seated. The two brothers took the other chairs. Their expressions were stony and unforgiving. Glorfindel had a sinking feeling that he and Finrod were not going to enjoy this particular ‘chat’.

"Would either of you like to explain yourselves?" Námo asked in a tone that made the two elves pale.

For a moment no one spoke, then Finrod whispered, "It was my fault."

"Indeed?" Námo said. "Please enlighten us."

Finrod sighed. "I made a mistake...."

Glorfindel snorted in derision. "To say the least," he muttered.

Finrod glared at him. "I was trying to explain but you wouldn’t let me."

Glorfindel glowered back and started to open his mouth to give a retort but Irmo cut him off. "Enough, both of you."

The two elves subsided, both looking sheepish. Námo turned to his brother, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think their previous experiences have made them... emotionally unstable still?"

Irmo stroked his chin, giving the two elves a closer look; they both tried not to squirm too much. "Possibly. I doubt they would have acted as they did otherwise. Findaráto is usually more in control of himself and Glorfindel would rather die again than act dishonorably."

"Hmmm...." was Námo’s comment as he gave the ellyn his own appraisal. "I was never sanguine about releasing Glorfindel from Mandos as early as he was, you know. I feared something like this might occur. I’m only surprised it did not happen earlier."

Irmo nodded. "I know you weren’t happy with the decision, brother, but you know why Manwë decided to overrule you in this."

"Yes, yes," Námo said dismissively, "but I still think we should have given Glorfindel more time."

"Can’t very well send him back, though, can we?" Irmo gave his older brother a wry grin.

Námo gave a snort that was almost a laugh. "Maranwë would have a fit and I would have a rebellion on my hands if we did."

Irmo chuckled.

All this time Glorfindel and Finrod sat in stunned amazement, casting surreptitious looks at one another, while the two Valar openly discussed them as if they weren’t there, speaking in clinical tones.

"They are both getting too dangerous to be allowed to remain together," Námo then said, and both elves started to protest, but a glance by the two Valar stilled them and they subsided into their chairs, suitably cowed.

"Indeed," Irmo opined. "Considering that even an entire contingent of warrior Maiar were unable to pull them apart." Both elves’ eyes went wide at that revelation. Irmo nodded. "Which is why we were called in to break up the fight," he explained to them and they both cringed. Then the Lord of Lórien turned back to his brother. "Yet, I sense that it’s not all entirely their fault. Something triggered this...."

"Or someone," Námo added with a nod. "What of the elfling?"

"Melian says she was too incoherent to make any sense out of what she was saying, but it seems to have something to do with a letter." He gave Finrod a glance as he spoke and the ellon reddened.

"I was going to destroy it...." he started to say but Irmo held up a hand to stay him.

"We will get to that presently," he said. "I need to find out if any of my People were involved in this even if indirectly."

"No one has come forward?" Námo asked with a frown. "That’s not like them."

"I have my suspicions, but I will wait a while longer for them to... what is that saying among the Mortals... come clean?"

"Ah... an apt phrase," Námo said with a slight smile that did not soften his visage. "Meanwhile, we need to deal with these two."

"Any suggestions?"

Glorfindel tried not to fidget and noticed Finrod doing the same. He suspected that his own face was just as red with embarrassment as his gwador’s and wondered what sort of punishment they were likely to receive.

"I’ll keep Finrod with me," Námo said. "You can have Glorfindel."

"Fair enough. Ingwion is still with Estë. Do you want her to send him on to Nienna’s when she’s done?"

"That might be best. I’ll speak with our sister and ask her. I need to check on Vorondil and Aldundil anyway. Nienna’s up to something with those two and I want to know what she has planned." Námo flashed his brother a wry smile.

Irmo nodded. "She’s trickier than the two of us put together. Very well...."

"What about the elflings?" Finrod asked in a whisper.

Both Valar gave him a searching look. "Took you long enough to ask," Námo said, then relented somewhat when Finrod looked to start weeping again. "They’re fine, child. Melian is watching over them and I believe Indis is helping. They all know your anamillë and are happy enough to be with her until such time as we determine if they are still safe around you."

Finrod paled at the implication and Glorfindel put a hand on his arm, his expression one of deep sympathy, for he knew how much Finrod cared for the children.

"Well, we’ll sort that out later," Irmo said, standing. "Come along, Glorfindel. Your grove is pretty much destroyed so we’ll have to find you somewhere else to sleep for now."

Glorfindel stood reluctantly and followed the Vala out, casting a glance back to where Finrod still sat dejectedly while Námo continued to stare at him in silence.

****

It took a few minutes for Glorfindel to realize that Irmo was leading him back to Finrod’s grove. He gave the Vala a puzzled look. "I thought you said the grove was destroyed, lord."

"It is. I want you to see your... um... handiwork before it’s cleaned up." Irmo cast him a grim look and Glorfindel closed his eyes for a second, wishing he were anywhere else.

"Too late for that, elfling... ah... here we are."

Glorfindel stood at the grove’s entrance and peeked in. Shock ran through him at the amount of destruction he saw. The pavilions were in shreds and much of the furniture was just so much kindling. Objects were strewn around and even the trees had suffered, for there were broken off branches all about.

"W-we did that?" he whispered.

"Hmmm."

Glorfindel stared at the Vala, whose expression had become unreadable. Then a thought struck him. "How did Manveru know to come with his warriors? Who called them?"

Irmo raised an appraising eyebrow. "No one called them. Manveru was here all along."

"What!?"

"On Manwë’s orders, in fact." Irmo’s mouth twitched in amusement at the discomfitted ellon.

"He... he’s been watching me all this time?" Glorfindel demanded, his expression growing angry. He glanced around as if to see if the Maia in question was lurking about.

Irmo put a hand on the elf’s shoulder. "Peace, Glorfindel. Manveru never violated your privacy. The Maiar are not voyeurs. He did not need to be in your immediate vicinity to keep an eye on you. He merely had to focus his attention on you to see what you were doing. When Findaráto threw the first punch he called on his brother and some of the other warriors to help break up the fight, but the two of you proved too much for them, so I was called and then I called in my brother. The rest you know."

Glorfindel was not mollified. "You’ve set Maiar spies on me... on us."

"And a good thing," Irmo said somewhat acerbically. "Who do you think called his brethren to take the children away?"

Glorfindel gave the Vala a surprised look. "How did he know....?"

Irmo chuckled as he gestured for Glorfindel to come away from the grove. "Manveru is a warrior, Glorfindel," he said as they made their way towards the area of Lórien reserved for the Reborn. "He fought in wars along the endless shores of Eä ages before Arda was ever created. He can sense when trouble is about. Now let us see where we can put you for now... ah... I have just the place. Come, tell me about this letter that had you so upset with your gwador."

****

"Tell me about the letter," Námo commanded Finrod, breaking the silence that had ensued after Irmo led Glorfindel away.

Finrod sighed, feeling suddenly weary, and rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to rid himself of the throbbing behind his eyes. "I wrote a letter to Ingwë expressing my satisfaction with the children’s progress and suggesting that at the Summer Solstice I would release all of them from my service rather than just the younger two."

"Hmmm...." Námo nodded his head. "Lindorillë must have thought you no longer wanted her... them. A natural misinterpretation on the child’s part given her recent behavior."

Finrod nodded. "Even as I was writing the letter I felt...." he shook his head, not sure how to express what he had been feeling. "At any rate, I decided in the end not to follow through with the plan and was going to destroy it."

"Why didn’t you?"

"I was called away before I could."

"Called? By whom?" Námo’s expression became less remote.

Finrod shrugged. "I was told one of the Noldorin Reborn was acting fractious and would I come and soothe her with my harp, so I went."

"But who told you?" Námo insisted.

Finrod gave him a quizzical look but answered readily enough. "It was Lisselindë. She was there watching Lindorillë copy out some letters for me. I was hunting for a candle so I could burn the letter when she told me about the Noldo. I didn’t think anything about it. I told Lindorillë to carry on with the copying and if she finished before I returned she was free to do as she pleased until luncheon."

"What did you do with the letter?"

"In my hurry I guess I just shoved it into the pile of other papers on my desk. When I came back about an hour or so later the desk was tidied up and the letter was lying on the floor underneath it."

"You did not ask Lindorillë to tidy your desk, then?"

Finrod shook his head. Námo stared into space, thinking. Finrod remained silent. After a moment the Vala looked at him again. "Was there indeed a Reborn in need of your special talents?"

Finrod looked at the Vala in surprise. "Oh yes. Why would Lisselindë lie about that?"

"Why indeed?" Námo mused, then he shook his head, as if to clear it of some distasteful thought. He looked at Finrod again. "Tell me what happened when you found the letter."

Finrod told about going to Melian’s grove only to be stopped by both Lisselindë and Olórin.

"Olórin!" Námo exclaimed. "How odd. I thought he’d learned his lesson long ago."

Finrod gave the Lord of Mandos a puzzled look. Námo just shook his head. "Continue."

The ellon sighed and related the conversation between himself and the two Maiar. "Then I returned to my pavilion and shortly thereafter Glorfindel arrived with Sorondil and Ormendil. The rest you know."

Námo remained silent for some time and Finrod schooled himself to stillness, though it was difficult with the throbbing behind his eyes making him miserable. After what seemed forever but was less than five minutes, Námo stirred. "Let’s see if we can do something about that headache you have." He smiled gently at the ellon as he stood and offered his hand. Finrod accepted it gratefully.

"What’s going to happen now, lord?" he asked quietly as they left the grove.

Námo’s expression darkened somewhat. "Something that has not happened in many an age," he replied, but he did not elaborate and Finrod was wise enough not to press.

****

"Any sign of either Lisselindë or Olórin?" Námo asked his brother when the two met again after seeing to their charges. Irmo had decided to move Glorfindel in with Celepharn. The two ellyn had eyed each other warily at first, then Celepharn offered his hand and Glorfindel took it. The Vala had left them sitting on their respective cots chatting in Sindarin.

Finrod was fast asleep in a small grove off from Master Meneldil’s apothecary, having been encouraged to drink one of the Master’s potions. Ingil was there to watch over him, sitting beside the ellon’s cot, quietly strumming a harp. It was, in fact, Finrod’s harp. It had survived the destruction of the grove only because Finrod had left it behind in the grove of the Reborn elleth whom he had been visiting.

"No," Irmo answered, looking both vexed and worried at the same time. "I do not understand it. Are you sure Olórin is involved?"

"Apparently, but to what extent remains to be seen. I suspect that it was Lisselindë who set things in motion. Lindorillë would not have tidied Findaráto’s desk on her own initiative. She’s just young enough that she would do the tasks set out for her and then go and play as soon as she finished."

Irmo nodded, his expression sad. "To think one of my own Maiar...."

"Let us go speak to Manwë. I have a feeling that things are just going to get worse before they get better."

"I’ve alerted my People to search for Lisselindë in all her usual haunts."

"Hmm.... I think if Olórin is with her, they may have gone somewhere else, some place we would not immediately think to look for them."

"Any ideas?"

Námo gave his younger brother a smile that boded no good for the two missing Maiar. "Oh, I’m having Maranwë check it out for me even now."

Irmo gave Námo a considering look. "Ah... in that case, do with them as you think best."

Námo nodded and the two thought themselves to Taniquetil where they informed Manwë of what had happened. The Elder King’s expression became more and more troubled as the two brothers related the events. When they were finished, Manwë sighed.

"Eönwë," he said quietly and the Maia appeared before his lord immediately. "Have Fionwë and a contingent of warriors search the other planets of the system for Lisselindë and Olórin. Have Erunáro take a few others and search the rest of Arda. I want Manveru to continue to keep an eye on Glorfindel."

"Maranwë reports that they are nowhere within Mandos," Námo said even as Eönwë bowed to his lord and left to carry out his orders. "Given that Olórin has been with me lately, I figured...."

Manwë nodded. "A logical deduction."

"What if they are not within the system?" Varda asked.

Manwë’s expression went cold and a brumal wind swept through the chamber where they were gathered. "Then they will regret it even more."

The others nodded in agreement. Námo’s expression went completely distant, his amaranthine eyes glittering with a fell fire as cold as the Helcaraxë as he ceased to be the benevolent Lord of Mandos, the Consoler of souls, and became the dread Doomsman of Arda.





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