43: Gardener of Souls

Glorfindel slammed the door behind him, still fuming. He unstrapped the sword belt and reverently laid the sheathed sword on the dining table. Then he practically tore off his vambraces and threw them in a corner. He was struggling with his hauberk when Tiutalion came in.

"Here, Glorfindel, let me help you with that," the Maia said as he reached to offer the ellon a hand.

Glorfindel, however, stepped away, snarling. "I don’t need your damn help!"

Tiutalion took him by the shoulders and held his gaze. "Peace, child. I am not the enemy," he said softly and Glorfindel gave him a chastened look.

"Damn him," he muttered, most of his anger gone, leaving him feeling... weak.

"Who?" Tiutalion asked as he pulled the hauberk off the elf.

"The Elder King," was Glorfindel’s surprising reply. "He sent three... three!... warrior Maiar to protect me." His voice started to rise again in anger. "I don’t need protection! The one they should have been protecting was Lisselindë because I was this close" — here he put the thumb and index finger of his right hand less than an inch apart from one another — "to strangling her."

Tiutalion raised an eyebrow at that revelation, but he forbore to speak. Glorfindel was too upset to listen to anything he might say. The ellon was still ranting. "Three! I can’t believe he sent three of them. It’s not as if I were an elfling or an elleth. Well, I showed him, didn’t I? I’m not as helpless as he may think. Three, Tiutalion! Can you believe he sent three?"

Tiutalion was at a loss. Glorfindel was in a rare mood and couldn’t stop pacing or ranting. The Maia wanted to take the ellon in his embrace but he feared how Glorfindel might respond and then those three warrior Maiar would be needed all over again. He wondered if he should alert his lady, but was saved the trouble when a flurry of multi-colored lights coalesced into the shape of the Elder King himself.

Tiutalion gave Lord Manwë his obeisance. Glorfindel nearly gave the Elder King a black eye as he suddenly launched himself at the Vala. "You sent three of them!" he shouted as Manwë grabbed the ellon and held him tightly to him, letting Glorfindel writhe and scream to his heart’s content, mouthing invectives at him. Manwë never spoke; he just continued holding Glorfindel, even rocking him a little. After five minutes or so Glorfindel suddenly stopped, sagging into Manwë’s arms, weeping dejectedly. "You sent three of them," he said over and over again through his tears as if he were chanting a litany.

"And I will not apologize for doing so," Manwë said softly into Glorfindel’s ear, still rocking him until the ellon was nearly asleep. "Manveru, Erunáro and Fionwë told me they quite enjoyed their little workout with you. Fionwë especially liked the fact that you refused to play fair."

"In war there’s no such thing as ‘fair’," Glorfindel muttered, sighing. He straightened his stance, wiping the tears from his cheeks. His entire disposition was one of dejection and he felt empty.

Manwë, gauging the ellon’s state, looked at Tiutalion. "Let’s have some tea, shall we? And I think a light supper would not be amiss."

"I’m not in the mood for...."

"Tush," Manwë admonished him, steering Glorfindel to the table and making him sit. The Elder King removed the sword and placed it in a corner of the room, then returned to the table and sat opposite him.

Tiutalion, meanwhile, fixed some peppermint tea and a bowl of soup made with a thick beef broth and full of vegetables. He put a basket of bread on the table as well, along with some herb butter. "Eat," he ordered Glorfindel as he placed the bowl before him. "You’ll feel better for it."

Glorfindel did not respond, simply staring at the bowl before him. Manwë gave Tiutalion a wry look and then leaned over, picked up the spoon and put it into Glorfindel’s hand. "Eat, Glorfindel," he said gently. "That’s it, one spoonful at a time. Have some bread with it."

Slowly, almost as if he were sleepwalking, Glorfindel complied with Manwë’s suggestions, but he did not respond otherwise. After about fifteen minutes, the bowl was empty and most of the bread eaten and the tea all drunk. Glorfindel continued to sit there, not looking up. Manwë rose and came around to stand behind the elf, placing his hands on Glorfindel’s shoulders.

"How are you feeling now, son?" he asked solicitously.

"Tired," Glorfindel barely breathed, as if he had no strength left even to speak.

"Then I think you should sleep," Manwë said, pulling the ellon to his feet. "Tiutalion will see you properly settled."

The Maia took Glorfindel’s right elbow and led him into the bedroom where he helped the ellon out of his clothes and into a nightshirt, then tucked him into bed. When Manwë came in a couple of minutes later, Glorfindel was already asleep. "I’ll stay with him for the night," the Vala said to the Maia. "You need not remain."

Tiutalion gave the Elder King his obeisance, recognizing a dismissal however politely put, before fading from view. As Manwë took a seat in the room’s only chair, Nienna appeared, giving him an appraising look. Manwë merely smiled as he gestured. Another chair appeared and Nienna took it. Together, the two of them watched over Glorfindel whose sleep appeared restless, for he tossed and turned and muttered words too low to make out though the Valar recognized the language as Sindarin.

Sometime around midnight, Glorfindel suddenly bolted upright screaming Turgon’s name. Manwë was up immediately, laying a calming hand on Glorfindel’s brow, soothing him until the ellon settled back into sleep, unaware that Manwë was even there. The rest of the night passed more peacefully.

Both Manwë and Nienna left at dawn and when Glorfindel woke an hour later, he did so to the smell of breakfast being made. Rising, he went through his ablutions, dressed and stepped out into the other room to find Tiutalion in the kitchen cooking some ham slices and pouring pancake batter into a skillet. He looked up and gave the ellon a smile.

"Good morning," he said brightly, returning his attention to the pancakes.

"If you insist," Glorfindel muttered as he flopped into a chair, putting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

"Oh, indeed I do," Tiutalion rejoined with a laugh. "I ordered the day just for you."

"You’re too kind," Glorfindel said somewhat sarcastically, lifting his head to give the Maia a sour look.

Tiutalion merely chuckled as he expertly flipped the pancake in the skillet and then checked the ham slices, removing them from the fire. "Breakfast will be ready shortly. Why don’t you start on that fruit compote while I finish with the pancakes?"

"I’m not really...."

Tiutalion came over and stared down at the ellon, his expression stern. "Eat. Now."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, but dutifully picked up a spoon and scooped up some of the fruit. Tiutalion nodded in satisfaction as Glorfindel began to eat in truth before returning to the stove to rescue the pancakes. Soon, a high stack of the fluffy cakes smothered with butter and maple syrup was placed before the ellon, who stared at it in disbelief.

"You actually expect me to eat all of that?" he demanded as Tiutalion set a smaller plate of the ham slices next to the pancakes.

"Yes," the Maia said in a no nonsense voice, "by order of both Lord Manwë and Lady Nienna. You are not leaving this table until you’ve eaten every bite, so I suggest you get started before it all goes cold."

Glorfindel gave Tiutalion a jaundiced look. "You’re enjoying this too much."

Tiutalion merely smiled and pointed at the fork and knife on the table. Glorfindel sighed and began to attack the stack of pancakes, muttering imprecations, but after a couple of bites he found himself too busy eating to continue and before he knew it he had eaten every bite, much to his surprise and Tiutalion’s satisfaction.

"There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" Tiutalion couldn’t resist saying as he cleared the breakfast dishes.

Glorfindel gave him a wintry smile. "Don’t push it."

Tiutalion chuckled. "So what are your plans for today?"

The ellon covered his face with his hands and let out a groan. "I have no idea. The thought of having to deal with Lisselindë...."

"Which won’t happen today," Tiutalion interrupted, his voice colder than Glorfindel had ever heard it, "since our... wayward sister is presently having a little chat with Lord Námo."

Glorfindel actually winced, having been a victim of Lord Námo’s ‘little chats’ himself. "Then I don’t know what I should do," he said, feeling suddenly, and for no reason he could fathom, tired.

Tiutalion, gauging the ellon’s physical and emotional state, pointed to the front door. "Go out and enjoy the day. Take a long walk or sit on the beach, whatever, but go out and enjoy it. I didn’t order this day just for you to mope around the cottage."

Glorfindel gave the Maia an amused look as he stood up. "Yes, Nana, anything you say, Nana," he muttered in Sindarin, while Tiutalion merely laughed as the ellon stepped outside.

It was indeed a lovely day with bright sunshine, blue skies and a warm gentle sea breeze that ruffled his golden locks. Glorfindel took a deep, cleansing breath and actually smiled, feeling more alive than he had felt in a long time. He strolled down the path leading towards the main house, having decided to explore that part of the lady’s demesne. He found himself humming a merry tune and when he chanced upon a Maia tending to a small herb garden that was situated on the southern side of the manse, he gave him a cheery "Mae govannen!" which the Maia returned with his own greeting, smiling at the ellon who had so entertained them all with his martial prowess the day before.

Glorfindel leaned over the garden gate to examine the herb beds just beginning to sprout. "What do you grow here?" he asked in honest curiosity.

The Maia smiled and began pointing to the various beds, naming the plants that would be in full bloom by summer. "We have thyme, parsley, and several kinds of savory here, the basil is in these pots there and over there we have other herbs exclusively for the kitchen. Then on this side are a number of plants for making teas and medicinals, including asëa aranion. Lady Nienna often has some of Lord Irmo and Lady Estë’s apprentices come and learn herbology with us."

Glorfindel nodded. "Like Manwen," he said, remembering Laurendil telling him about his wife’s oath taking to Finrod and then spending time here with Lady Nienna.

"Exactly."

"And Vorondil," the ellon added with a sly smile and the Maia laughed.

"He is an endearing elfling, is he not?"

"When he’s not attacking someone," Glorfindel retorted with a laugh of his own.

"Would you like to help?" the Maia asked after they had both stopped laughing, gesturing to the garden.

Glorfindel raised his hands and backed away. "Thank you, but no. The last time I worked in a garden I pulled up all the asëa aranion thinking they were weeds and every time I had to deadhead roses I would start crying for some reason."

The Maia gave him a considering look and his expression was more sympathetic than anything. Glorfindel wasn’t sure he liked that, but he smiled gamely. "Tiutalion ordered me to enjoy the day, so I think I’ll just wander around a bit. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me." He gave the Maia a bow and started walking away at a fast pace that was just shy of actually running.

"Laurefindil!" the Maia shouted.

The ellon stopped, cringing at the sound of the hated Quenya version of his name, refusing to look back.

"Glorfindel," the Maia said again more quietly, "turn around." His tone was warm and gentle but quite insistent.

The elf tried to refuse, but in spite of himself he turned to face the Maia, who gestured, inviting him forward. Before he realized what he was doing, Glorfindel found himself before the garden gate once more. The Maia smiled at him. "My name is Niondil of the People of Nienna and, incidentally, brother to Cemendillë, whom I think you already know," he said.

Glorfindel could only stand there and nod.

Niondil opened the gate. "Come inside, child," he said and, much to his chagrin, Glorfindel found himself obeying.

"I... I’m not good at gardening," he whispered, giving Niondil an almost terrified look.

Niondil nodded, leading the ellon further into the garden and handing him a hoe. "I’m not asking you to weed, you know," he said with a smile. "All I want you to do is turn the soil here along this patch of ground. You can surely do that much, can’t you?"

Glorfindel stared at the bare patch of earth to which Niondil was pointing and nodded, looking less frightened, and without a word, started turning the soil over as Cemendillë had taught him. Niondil watched him for a moment or two and then nodded in satisfaction as he went back to his own work.

"Cemendillë tells me that Lady Yavanna told you that not all gardens are made of flowers or even herbs for that matter," Niondil said conversationally.

Glorfindel shrugged as he continued to turn the earth. "So?"

"Did you ever think what kind of garden she might have meant?"

The elf stopped his work to give the Maia a puzzled look. "To tell you the truth, so much has happened to me this past year I’ve barely had time to think."

"One reason why Lady Nienna invited you to stay here," Niondil said. "The Valar know how... hectic your life has been of late and have been seriously concerned for you."

"I didn’t know," Glorfindel muttered, looking more perplexed than ever.

Niondil stopped what he was doing and went to Glorfindel, taking the hoe out of his hand and leading him to a bench that was situated on the northern side of the garden. The early Spring sun was warm and as Niondil surreptitiously rubbed the ellon’s back, Glorfindel found himself relaxing more and more.

"Do you know what a gardener’s role is?" the Maia asked him.

Glorfindel thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "Growing things, I guess."

Niondil shook his head. "A gardener grows nothing. That is the purview of the plants themselves. No, what a gardener does is nurture... nurture and protect. A gardener, you might say, is something like a warrior in that respect."

Glorfindel gave Niondil a disbelieving look. The Maia simply nodded.

"Think about it," he said. "You, as a warrior, strive to protect those who are weaker than you or at least are not in a position to protect themselves. In so doing, you also nurture the environment which allows others to live and thrive in peace. Is that not so?"

Glorfindel had to think it through for a moment or two before answering. "So that means I’m a gardener of... of people?"

"A gardener of souls," Niondil answered. "Your role as protector gives others peace of mind, knowing that they are safe because you are looking out for them, caring for them, keeping them out of harm’s way, just as a gardener makes sure the plants in his garden are adequately watered and protected from the fierceness of the sun and the elements, so each may grow and thrive as intended."

Several minutes passed in silence while Glorfindel digested the Maia’s words. Niondil sat patiently, watching the play of emotions across the ellon’s face as he tried to understand what had been said. Finally, Niondil spoke again. "Did you know that when you gave Lisselindë her lesson yesterday you were acting as a gardener?"

"Huh?" Glorfindel’s expression was one of blank surprise.

Niondil smiled. "You might say you were ‘dead-heading’ a part of her that needed to be removed so that the rest of her fëa could thrive, just as a gardener deadheads dying blooms so the rest of the plant continues to thrive."

"What part was that?" the ellon asked, clearly confused. He thought he’d been showing off more than anything else.

"Her arrogance," Niondil replied without any levity. "Her belief that she is superior to you by virtue of having been created before Eä ever came into existence."

"But she is," Glorfindel protested. "All of you are. Do you think we call you ‘lord’ or ‘lady’ and bow when any of you appear before us because we’re just being polite?"

"And aren’t you?" Niondil retorted with a smile.

Glorfindel blushed a bit. "Well, yes, but we do so as an acknowledgment that you are our superiors in all things...."

"Now there you are wrong," Niondil interrupted. "We may have greater powers and have existed for longer than you but other than that we are created beings, no less than you, and we make mistakes just as you do. Each order of being has its own gifts and abilities which Ilúvatar meant to be shared with his other Children for the benefit of all. In Ilúvatar’s eyes we are all equal. In Ilúvatar’s eyes the lowest soul in all of Arda is of no less worth or importance than the Elder King himself and the converse is equally true. Lisselindë’s fault lies in thinking she is more worthy of Ilúvatar’s love than you simply by virtue of being a Maia while you’re a... shall we say... a latecomer to the scene."

"Do you all think that way?" Glorfindel asked.

"No. Oh, I have no doubt that Lisselindë’s attitude is not unique to her, but most of us do not suffer from that particular form of stupidity and those who do I suspect have had very little direct contact with any of you Children."

"Do you? Have direct contact with us, I mean?" Glorfindel asked.

"Oh, not recently," Niondil answered with a straight face, "and the Children with whom I interacted were not aware I was even there."

Glorfindel gave him a quizzical look. Niondil’s expression never changed, though there was a hint of humor in his eyes. "I was one of those assigned to protect the Quendi at Cuiviénen from the effects of the war which the Valar waged against Melkor." He laughed at Glorfindel’s expression of disbelief. "You see, I was a gardener even then."

Glorfindel stared at the Maia for a moment, wondering if people like Ingwë or Olwë knew about this. He let his eyes roam the garden. Most of it was still bare earth but he knew that in a few short months it would be alive with color and scent and beauty. Niondil stood up.

"Why don’t we get back to work," he said. "I have some seedlings I want to plant today."

Glorfindel reluctantly stood, not sure he really wanted to spend the day digging in the dirt, but really he had no other plans and Tiutalion didn’t specify how he was to pass the time. He nodded and went back to where he’d been working. Niondil watched him for a while with an indulgent smile on his lips. When he heard the ellon softly start humming a merry tune, he nodded in satisfaction, going back to his own tasks.

****

Some hours later, as the sun was slipping into the sea, Tiutalion looked up from the book he was reading as Glorfindel entered the cottage, his brow and the knees of his leggings smudged with dirt, his braids somewhat in disarray. He was wearing a smile on his face and humming.

"Have a nice day?" Tiutalion asked, though he was well aware of how the ellon had spent his time.

Glorfindel nodded. "Though I think I need a bath," he said as he stared down at his soiled clothes.

Tiutalion chuckled. "It’s already waiting for you." At Glorfindel’s appraising look, the Maia smirked. "Niondil let me know you were on your way back."

"Ah," was Glorfindel’s only reply.

"By the way," Tiutalion added, "Lady Nienna sent word that you are not required to eat dinner with her again tonight unless you wish."

Glorfindel nodded as he headed for the bedroom, struggling to suppress a yawn. "Maybe I should just stay here. I fear I might fall asleep in my soup."

The Maia laughed. "Then I’ll let her know. Take your bath, have a light supper and go to bed early. Tomorrow’s another day."

Glorfindel stopped at the bedroom door. "And Lisselindë?"

"She’ll be here tomorrow as well," Tiutalion answered, "but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Remember what Lady Nienna told you. Just be yourself. We’re not asking anything more from you at this time."

Glorfindel nodded. "I guess I’ll take it as it comes."

"That’s the wisest course," Tiutalion said with a nod. "Now, go divest yourself of your dirt and I’ll have supper ready for you."

The ellon gave the Maia a bow and went in search of his bath.

****

That night, Glorfindel dreamt of a garden consisting of all the people in his two lives for whom he cared deeply. He went from one person to the next, brushing their hair or their clothes, giving them drinks of water, and murmuring words of encouragement that they continue to thrive. Many of the people smiled at him, thanking him for being such a wonderful gardener to them, which made him blush. At one point he entered a part of a garden that was empty. He stood there, wondering what it could mean. He felt, rather than heard, someone approach from behind. Turning, he was unsurprised to see Niondil there, smiling at him.

"What does it mean?" he asked the Maia, pointing at the empty garden.

Niondil looked to where the ellon was pointing before turning his attention back to him. "This part of the garden is for future plantings, child," he said. "This is the future where you will nurture others whom you have yet to meet."

Glorfindel stared at the bareness before him, noting though that the rich black soil was already turned, just waiting for planting. "The future," he whispered.

Niondil placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, the future," the Maia said, "but for now, it’s best to tend to the present." He canted his head back towards the rest of the garden and Glorfindel understood. Giving Niondil a nod and a shy smile, he went back to the people-filled part of the garden and spent the rest of the night happily tending it.

****

Niondil: ‘Bee Lover’, brother to Cemendillë (Yavanna’s Chief Maia) in the Thought of Ilúvatar.

Author’s Notes:

1. Believe it or not, the word ‘pancake’ is a late Middle English word first recorded in the early 1400s. The synonymous ‘griddle-cake’ is first recorded only in the late 18^th century. And if any wish to complain that ‘maple syrup’ is an anachronism, here is a quote from the Silmarillion:

‘For all living things that are or have been in the kingdom of Arda... lived then in the land of Aman.’ [Chapter 5, ‘Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië].

And while this quote speaks directly of the kelvar (animals), I have to assume it applies equally to the olvar (plants) and no doubt Yavanna would know that the sap of the sugar maple tree (Acer saccarum) would produce a sweet syrup when boiled down. The making of maple syrup (though not necessarily as we know it today) was known to the Algonquins (a Native American tribe who lived in present-day New England, New York and southern Ontario, Canada) from before the arrival of the Europeans.

2. Obviously, the names of the herbs mentioned are English translations of whatever they were called in Quenya. Unfortunately, Tolkien did not provide us with such names.