50: Dark Memory

The next morning, Glorfindel woke to find Tiutalion, Lisselindë and Nyéreser all waiting for him when he came out of his bedroom. He gave them a surprised look, for they were all armed with spear and sword.

"Going somewhere?" he couldn’t help asking in a rather supercilious tone.

Tiutalion and Nyéreser both laughed while Lisselindë just rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Tiutalion pointed to a haversack that was leaning against the door. "Bring your weapons," he said. "Your horse is waiting outside."

"Do I get to break my fast first?" Glorfindel asked, refusing to move. He didn’t care for the Maia’s tone, ordering him about as if he were an elfling or something.

"Had you risen an hour ago, there would have been time," Tiutalion said, "but we need to leave now. You will have to be content with breaking your fast as you ride."

"What’s the rush?" the ellon demanded, his eyes narrowing. "I’m sure wherever we’re going, these evil creatures will wait for us. I’m not going anywhere with anyone until I’ve had my breakfast."

The Maiar sighed almost as one. Lisselindë looked the most displeased with Glorfindel’s truculence and Tiutalion just looked resigned, but Nyéreser’s expression was unreadable. It was he who spoke. "Glorfindel, you are, for the time being, our student, and we are your teachers. If we command anything from you, then it would be well for you to obey. You do remember how to obey an order, do you not?"

"The concept is vaguely familiar to me," Glorfindel said, giving the Maia stare for stare, refusing to back down.

Nyéreser hid a smile, enjoying the game they were playing, even if Glorfindel did not realize it was indeed a game, a game of wills. He was willing to bet that under most circumstances Glorfindel would win such a game even against someone like Eönwë, but today it was imperative that the Maiar win; too much was at stake.

"I will be happy to reacquaint you with the concept if your memory needs refreshing," the Maia said in as cold a tone as he could manage and was pleased to see the ellon pale at the implied threat.

The tension in the room was palpable as the battle of wills continued in silence between the three Maiar and the elf for several long minutes. Finally, though, Glorfindel broke eye contact, scowling as he turned away to fetch his weapons. "You could have just woken me earlier, you know," he snarled as he threw his cloak about him and grabbed the haversack, yanking open the door and striding out without bothering to see if the Maiar were following. He took a few minutes to strap the haversack onto the packhorse before mounting his own horse. The Maiar, meantime, exited the cottage and stood waiting. When Glorfindel was astride his steed, Tiutalion handed him a piece of cloth tied with string. "Here is some fruit, bread and cheese," he said.

Glorfindel scowled down at him. "Keep it. I’m not interested." With that he spoke softly to the horse in Sindarin. He had named him Alagos for his fiery temper and fleetness of foot. The stallion, a beautiful black steed with pure white mane and tail, gave a nod of his head and a snort and set off, following Nyéreser who was already moving away, heading south. The packhorse followed. Tiutalion and Lisselindë exchanged rueful looks as they trailed behind.

Glorfindel was surprised they were heading south, for he had assumed they would be going north but he refused to question the Maiar, not about to give in to them any more than necessary. In the back of his mind he recognized the stupidity and even silliness of his stance, yet he could not help it. The good mood with which he had woken had dissipated in the face of the Maiar’s highhandedness (as he saw it). Thus, they continued on for some time in silence, the Maiar easily keeping up with Glorfindel, though it was Nyéreser who set the pace.

They followed a trail that led along the headlands overlooking the ocean, though as they continued south their course veered to the southeast and by noon they were moving away from the coast and heading inland towards a dense forest that lay dark upon the horizon. When they came upon a small copse of trees — maples and birches for the most part — Nyéreser and the other Maiar stopped, forcing Glorfindel to do the same.

"We’ll halt here for a while and let the horses rest," Nyéreser said.

Glorfindel nodded, alighting from Alagos, rubbing him down with some sweet grass and then letting him graze. Tiutalion removed the packs from the packhorse, a placid dun-colored gelding, and let it go as well. Glorfindel sat beneath one of the maples, still refusing to speak to any of them. When Tiutalion came and offered him the food he had refused earlier, he shook his head.

"I told you I’m not interested." His tone was surly and the three Maiar gave each other worried glances.

Nyéreser, who apparently had taken the role of being the leader of the expedition, knelt down before Glorfindel, his expression solemn. "Glorfindel, what is wrong?"

"Everything, you stupid Maia!" Glorfindel practically screamed, jumping up to stomp away but Nyéreser held him back. The ellon stood there, fuming, refusing to look at them.

"All this over missing breakfast?" Lisselindë asked, more annoyed than perplexed.

"It’s not about breakfast!" Glorfindel yelled, glaring at her.

"What is it about then?" Nyéreser asked softly. When Glorfindel did not answer he gave Tiutalion a concerned look. His fellow Maia had more interaction with the Children than he normally did and he hoped Tiutalion could enlighten him as to Glorfindel’s mood.

"Glorfindel, look at me," Tiutalion said. His tone was quiet but there was a ring of authority to it that the ellon was unable to resist. "Tell us what is wrong."

"You are," the elf said.

That surprised the Maiar, whose expressions went suddenly unreadable as they consulted each other silently, trying to understand the ellon’s words.

"Can you explain?" Nyéreser asked, speaking carefully so as not to set the elf off again.

Glorfindel gave him a surly look. "I’m not your thrall," was all he said but it was enough, for the Maiar suddenly divined where the trouble lay between them.

Tiutalion spoke then. "No, you are not, and we apologize if anything we did or said implied otherwise."

Glorfindel was not appeased though and his expression remained dark, his eyes stormy with anger. Lisselindë, not understanding the ellon’s continued truculence, gave a snort of disgust. "We’ve apologized, Glorfindel. What more do you want from us?"

"More than you’re willing to give, apparently," the ellon retorted. Then, he shook his head, scowling. "I’ve changed my mind. I’m going back. You do whatever you want, but I’m not interested in going with you."

With that he gave a whistle and Alagos came willingly to him, the packhorse following. The Maiar just stood there in shocked surprise as Glorfindel grabbed his gear where Tiutalion had placed it under the tree, draping the haversack over Alagos before leaping onto his back. He glared down at the three Maiar. "Tell Lady Nienna she can send the rest of my things to Tirion at her convenience." Then he spoke to his horse. "No lagor, Alagos, a northo athar i-laden. Na Dirion beditham."

Alagos complied with his master’s words and with a snort, they were off.

"What of your promise to Lady Nienna?" Tiutalion called after him. "Will you renege on your oath to her?"

Without missing a step, Alagos turned in one fluid motion and headed back to the Maiar, stopping a couple of feet from them at a soft command from Glorfindel. The ellon glared at them, his hands on his sword, his breathing suddenly harsh. "I took no oath," he said between clenched teeth.

"I beg to differ."

Glorfindel turned to see Eönwë standing there, the Book of Oaths in his hand and opened to a particular page. His expression was colder than the snows of the Helcaraxë. "Get down, Glorfindel," he commanded. "We need to talk." When Glorfindel hesitated, his expression became even colder and his tone was absolutely glacial. "Now."

Glorfindel found himself standing on the ground without any conscious memory of actually getting there. Alagos, with a toss of his proud head, gave the ellon a nuzzle, then trotted away to munch on some more sweet grass, leaving the two-foots to their own devices.

Now Glorfindel found himself completely surrounded by the four Maiar and the only way he was going to escape them was to fight them. He had no fear for himself in that regard, but he wondered if they would hold back this time. He doubted they would hurt him unto death; Lord Námo would probably take exception to that. Still, they could do him serious harm if they wanted to. The four Maiar, for their part, watched the ellon warily, unsure how he was going to react. They recognized that he was very close to snapping, though they were at a loss to understand why.

*Do we take this to a higher authority?* Tiutalion asked his fellows.

*Let’s see if we can’t solve this ourselves,* Nyéreser suggested.

*His mood has become dangerous,* Lisselindë commented. *Dare we risk it?*

*I wish we could have reached Lord Oromë’s demesne before this,* Nyéreser said. *It would have gone a long way towards diffusing his anger.*

*We’ll just have to deal with it here and now,* Eönwë said. *Too much is at stake.*

*So what do we do?* Lisselindë asked.

*We could provoke him into fighting and then beat him to a fare-thee-well,* Tiutalion suggested, only half jesting.

*That might make us feel better, but not him,* Nyéreser replied with a grim smile that Glorfindel never noticed.

*We need to discover the root of his anger,* Eönwë said. *It’s more than about missing breakfast or feeling put upon by you three. I suspect that is only the excuse he is using.*

*Yet, he appeared to be in a good mood when he woke,* Tiutalion mentioned, *and he seemed to have enjoyed himself with Lady Nienna and Lord Ulmo last night.*

*I guess we’re not going to know unless we ask,* Eönwë said with a silent sigh. Then he spoke aloud to Glorfindel. "Do you want to explain yourself? I thought you wanted to learn about honing your ability to detect evil."

The entire conversation between the Maiar took the time that Glorfindel needed to draw two breaths. He was drawing a third when Eönwë spoke to him. "I did... I mean, I do... I mean...." he stuttered, then drew another, deeper breath to steady himself. "She said Lisselindë would teach me," he ended quietly, his eyes on the ground at his feet.

*Does that mean he’s upset because I’m here?* Lisselindë enquired of her fellow Maiar with some exasperation.

*Or because Nyéreser and I are with you,* Tiutalion answered, gauging the ellon’s words more carefully.

"Is that it, Glorfindel?" Nyéreser asked aloud. "You’re upset that Tiutalion and I are accompanying you and Lisselindë?"

Glorfindel nodded glumly, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"But why?" Lisselindë demanded, throwing up her hands in frustration. "Honestly, child, I cannot keep up."

That apparently was the wrong thing to say. Glorfindel moved so quickly, even Eönwë was not able to stop him in time. Suddenly, Lisselindë was on the ground looking up at the sword Glorfindel had in his hand. "Do not call me that, ever," he said in a hoarse whisper.

The Maiar were all frozen by surprise. Almost immediately several blinding lights appeared, coalescing into Námo, Nienna, Oromë and Manwë. Their expressions were, if not cold, then certainly not friendly. Glorfindel didn’t seem to notice them, his attention solely on Lisselindë.

"Put the sword away, son," Manwë said quietly.

Glorfindel snarled as he turned his attention to the Valar. "I am not your son! I’m nobody’s son or child! Nobody’s!" He slammed his sword back into its sheath and stalked away towards where Alagos was standing. Reaching the horse, he did not mount, but held onto him, burying his head in his mane. Alagos whickered, turning his head to give the ellon a nuzzle, but otherwise did not move.

Tiutalion, meanwhile, was helping Lisselindë up. All four Maiar were nonplused, unsure what they should do next, and looked to the Valar for assurance. Manwë gave them all warm smiles. "Eönwë, you have other duties, I’m sure. Nyéreser, why don’t you and Tiutalion scout out a more suitable camp for our elfling. I don’t think you’re going to reach your destination today."

The three Maiar gave the Valar their obeisance. Eönwë faded from view while Nyéreser and Tiutalion loped off, heading towards the southeast, leaving Lisselindë alone. The Maia looked uncomfortable and perplexed.

"He makes no sense," she said to the Valar in a quiet voice. "First he’s angry because we wouldn’t let him have breakfast, then it’s because Nyéreser and Tiutalion are with us, and now.... What is wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Námo said. "He’s merely remembering something from his previous life, something that has upset him."

"Something from last night, do you think?" Nienna asked.

"Perhaps," Námo said. "Certainly it may be something that was triggered by his speaking about Gondolin."

"The key to understanding him is his last outburst," Manwë said calmly.

After a moment’s thought, Námo nodded, his expression clearing as he at last understood. "Yes, that makes sense."

"Care to enlighten us?" Oromë said with a faint grin, looking at Manwë and Námo. "I had everything all set, and naturally, Glorfindel goes and ruins it all."

"Not his fault, really," Námo said sympathetically. "I think he was remembering events at Alqualondë."

Oromë and Nienna both grimaced, though Lisselindë still looked confused, not understanding. She knew, though, that the Valar would not be forthcoming with details just yet. Their primary focus was on the ellon still clinging to his horse, his sobs clearly audible to them. Tiutalion appeared just then, moving with long strides through the grass, coming from the south.

"We found a small secluded dell with a spring just to the south," he said as he reached them. "Nyéreser is already setting up the camp."

"Good enough," Manwë said. "Let’s see if we can convince Glorfindel to join us there. I’ll let you do the honors, Tiutalion."

The Maia grinned and went over to Glorfindel, being careful to stay out of sword’s reach. "Lord Manwë would like you to join us at our camp for the night," he said.

Glorfindel raised his head, wiping the tears from his eyes but did not look at the Maia. "I need to get on to Tirion," he muttered, preparing to mount Alagos.

"You won’t reach it tonight, Glorfindel," the Maia pointed out in a reasonable tone. "You might as well join us for the night and set out tomorrow."

Glorfindel sighed, suddenly feeling too tired to argue anymore. He nodded, still not looking at the Maia. "Just for tonight," he said.

"Come, I’ll show you where we are encamped."

Maia and elf made their way southward with the two horses following. Soon they came upon a grove of oaks and beeches surrounding a small dell where a pool of spring-fed water took up a third of the area. The other two Maiar as well as the Valar were already there. A small fire was blazing cheerfully. Lisselindë offered to see to the horses, while Tiutalion and Nyéreser grabbed their spears and set off in search of game. That left Glorfindel alone with the Valar, who engaged in their own conversation, not purposely excluding the ellon, but leaving him to himself, allowing him time to pull himself together.

"... so I told Aulë that if he wanted more star cores for his forge, he could get them himself," Oromë was saying, "I have better things to do and besides, Vána hates it when I go off-planet without her."

The other Valar grinned knowingly. Glorfindel, sitting in their midst, just blinked in confusion, not understanding anything Lord Oromë was saying.

"I thought Yavanna told him no more star cores after that last one he brought home nearly ended up burning a hole straight through the planet," Námo said with a laugh.

"Yes, well, Aulë insists that he’s figured out the proper parameters for the containment field this time," Oromë said with a shake of his head, his expression one of amusement.

"Hmm... Where have I heard that before?" Manwë muttered, apparently unconvinced, and the others started laughing.

So it went. Nyéreser and Tiutalion returned with a deer not long after and soon they were busy preparing the evening meal. Glorfindel was conscripted to help, and the familiar rhythm of dressing the deer and cutting up the meat helped to steady him. No one attempted to make conversation with him, for which he was grateful. It was not until the meal had been eaten — Glorfindel found himself having two bowls for he had not eaten anything that day — and the stars were shining brightly down upon them, that Manwë decided it was time to address the issue that they had all avoided. He looked kindly on Glorfindel sitting by the fire somewhat at a distance from the Valar and Maiar.

*He probably feels outnumbered,* Námo observed to the others. *Don’t push too hard, Manwë. He’s in a fragile state.*

Manwë nodded in acknowledgment then addressed the elf. "Where are your thoughts, Glorfindel? What dark memory has stained the beauty of this day for you?"

Glorfindel stared into the fire for several minutes before answering. "I should have killed him," he said in a low voice.

"But you didn’t," Manwë said calmly. "Instead, you remained by your amillë’s side and comforted her in her final moments."

"I couldn’t stop the bleeding," Glorfindel said, his voice breaking. "I tried, but I’m no healer."

"No healer could have saved her, Glorfindel," Námo said gently.

"Why isn’t she here?" Glorfindel asked. "Why wasn’t she there to greet me when I was finally released from Lórien? Why is she still in Mandos?"

The Valar sighed almost as one. The anguish in the ellon’s voice made them flinch in sympathy. "It is not yet her time," Námo replied. "She told us she had no desire to leave Mandos without your atar."

Glorfindel looked up at the Vala, his expression one of disbelief. "He killed her!" he shouted. "He slew her and never looked back and she still wants him?"

"Love is like that, child," Manwë said. "It’s rather unreasonable even under the best of circumstances. Your amillë understood that your atar was in the grip of emotions that defied description. He was probably not even aware of what he did."

Námo nodded. "When he finally came to us, he could not accept that he had slain his own wife, would have slain you if others had not intervened."

For a while, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the chirping of crickets. Somewhere further away came the hoot of an owl. "How did he die?" he finally asked.

"You do not want to know, best beloved," Námo said.

Glorfindel glared at him, his fury rising again. "Tell me," he insisted, his voice hoarse with pent-up emotions. "I think I deserve to know how my own atar met his end."

"He was taken captive after the Dagor Bragollach," Námo said. "He became one of the Mólanoldor. An orc beat him to death when he didn’t move fast enough for it."

Glorfindel closed his eyes and they could see the pain that lashed at his fëa. "No more than he deserved," he whispered.

"No, Glorfindel," Manwë said firmly. "No one deserves what your atar suffered. And you know better than anyone that he is now free of the taint which marred him. His innocence has been restored, though it will be some while before he is ready to be released from Mandos. Ilúvatar has not yet given the word."

Glorfindel stared at the Elder King in surprise. Manwë nodded, a small smile on his lips. "You believe that Námo has sole authority over who is released and who is not, but in that you are wrong. It is a joint decision between the two of us and Ilúvatar."

"Your friend, Thandir, was correct," Námo said in the silence that followed Manwë’s statement. "You were all insane to one degree or another. Do not hate your atar overmuch, Glorfindel. He has paid for his crimes."

"What I don’t understand," Lisselindë said then, "is what brought all this on. What triggered the memory? Glorfindel was fine when he woke."

"The day the Noldor set out," Glorfindel said quietly, "I woke to find that there was another haversack sitting beside mine near the door. Atar had already left. I remember asking Ammë if she was going anywhere, for she already had her cloak on. She said she was coming with me. I tried to persuade her to remain behind, but she refused. She even told me that we would have to break our fast on the march for she had not bothered to make breakfast for us. When Atar found out she had come with me, he blamed me for her decision and refused to have anything more to do with either of us, moving over to Maedhros’ camp while we remained with Prince Arafinwë, though later we attached ourselves to Turgon."

"And this morning...." Nyéreser started to say.

Glorfindel nodded. "I know it wasn’t the same, but the similarities were too close. I guess it all just came rushing back to me. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t handle it very well."

"There’s no need to apologize, Glorfindel," Manwë said. "We’re aware of what happened between you and your parents and we’re sorry for it, more than you will ever know. The question remains though, what will you do now? Will you break your promise to Lisselindë and return to Tirion, or will you stay?"

Silence stretched between them for several minutes before Glorfindel sighed, shaking his head. "I don’t know," he said. "I just don’t know anymore."

"An honest response, if nothing else," Manwë replied. "Why don’t you sleep on it? Tomorrow will be soon enough to make decisions."

Glorfindel was somewhat reluctant to comply with the Elder King’s suggestion, but Nienna started to sing a lullaby commonly sung among the elves to their elflings. The Maiar joined her and soon the effects of the song began to impinge on Glorfindel’s consciousness. It wasn’t long before he was curled up beside the fire, fast asleep, while the four Valar and three Maiar watched over him. He stirred only once, muttering softly, his dream at the moment troubling. Nienna reached over and gently soothed his brow and he fell into a more restful state.

****

All words are Sindarin unless otherwise noted.

Alagos: Windstorm.

No lagor, Alagos, a northo athar i-laden. Na Dirion beditham: ‘Be swift, Alagos, and ride across the open land. To Tirion we shall go’.

Mólanoldor: (Quenya) Noldor enslaved by Morgoth. The word mólanoldorin, the language spoken by the Noldorin slaves, is attested.

Note: Glorfindel also mentions his parents and what happened to them during the Flight of the Noldor in my Tapestry story, ‘MARCHES: Crossing the Ice’.