72: Reunion With Old Friends

The other members of the Progress were joining the kings, Ingwion and Finrod on the dais where they were speaking to Dúlinn, Baradir and Sîdhwen when several townspeople came forward all in a rush. Immediately, Elennen, Calandil, Edrahil, Eregil, Celepharn and Mithlas took up defensive positions before the dais.

“Finrod! Finrod!” several people shouted, waving as they made their way to the front of the Hall.

Finrod turned at the sound of his name and smiled. “Hithrían! Nestadôr! Saelmir!” he exclaimed and pushed his way past the guards to greet the three he had named. Elennen gave a resigned sigh, muttering something that only Calandil and Eregil, standing on either side of him heard. Both ellyn smiled and Eregil leaned over to speak to the Teler.

“He was always like that in Nargothrond,” he said softly. “He was the bane of his personal guards, I understand. Just ask Edrahil.”

Edrahil, overhearing Eregil’s words, responded with a rolling of his eyes, setting the others chuckling.

“I don’t know why I even bother,” Elennen said in disgust, shaking his head as he watched the Noldorin prince greeting several people with great enthusiasm. “Prince Lindarion is much the same and Olwë is even worse.”

“Tell me about it,” Calandil said with a snort. “Between Arafinwë and Findaráto I can’t keep up.”

The others who were acting as guards all snickered even as Finrod was now pushing his way back onto the dais, bringing several people with him. He paused to give Elennen and the others a wicked grin. “At least you can’t complain about your jobs being boring,” he said even as he continued up the steps. Elennen blushed and the others laughed.

“Atar, Anatar,” Finrod called out. “Here are some friends of mine from when I was in Lórien.”

Arafinwë and Olwë turned and gave them smiles. Dúlinn saw his wife and went to her, giving her a hug. Finrod introduced his friends to everyone else. “This is Hithrían, who is Dúlinn’s wife, and this is Nestadôr and Saelmir. Saelmir shared my pavilion along with Brethorn, who now resides in Avallónë, I understand. We were all in Lórien together.”

The others of the Progress gave the three Reborn Tol Eressëans greetings. “Have you been out as long as Finrod?” Sador asked.

“Oh yes,” Saelmir answered. “Although Finrod left Lórien before us, or at least before me. I think Nestadôr actually left first among those of us who became friends.”

“Not the first, Saelmir,” Hithrían said with a laugh. “Don’t you remember Alphedis? She left before the rest of us.”

Finrod laughed. “Oh I remember her.” He gave Hithrían a wicked grin. “As I recall, I found you weeping away when she left, thinking you would never see her again. I managed to calm you down by reminding you that she said she would run away to Tol Eressëa if she were sent to Alqualondë and if that were so you could help hide her.”

They all laughed while Hithrían blushed. Her husband gave her a hug. “You never told me that,” he said chidingly, though his tone was gentle, and she blushed even more.

“So, do any of you know what happened to her?” Finrod asked.

Nestadôr, who was a Noldo, spoke up, his face full of amusement. “Actually, I’m the one who ran away. Alphedis, I learned, was met by both kin from Alqualondë and friends from Tol Eressëa who encouraged her to go to Alqualondë first. Eventually she came to Tol Eressëa with the blessings of her Telerin family and now resides in Avallónë, though she does keep in contact with her kin in Alqualondë.”

“So what happened with you?” Finrod asked. “I know you were in a quandary as to where to go once you left Lórien.”

Nestadôr nodded. “So I was, but when it came time to leave, Lord Irmo summoned my family still residing in Tirion and so I went with them. I was absolutely miserable. No one spoke Sindarin, which I preferred speaking to Quenya, and no one wanted to hear of my experiences in Beleriand. They all expected me to be the person I was before I left under Lord Macalaurë’s banner, as if the last millennium never happened.” He shook his head in dismay. “It was not a happy time for me.”

“I think other Reborn Noldor have had similar experiences,” Arafinwë said. “Since the New Year, I have been making enquiries about those who now reside in Tirion, asking for their stories. Many report the lack of understanding and tolerance of their families and friends who remained behind, unwilling to listen to what their Reborn kin have to say. Some few eventually left to come to Tol Eressëa, finding no real acceptance in Aman.”

“So it was with me,” Nestadôr said. “In Beleriand I was one of Lord Macalaurë’s battle healers, as well as tending to the illnesses that beset the Atani who lived under my lord’s aegis. When I was released from Lórien, my family expected me to take up the family trade as a cloth merchant once again. I had no desire to do so. After about six months or so, I literally fled during the night, making my way here.”

“I’m surprised, given that you were a healer in Beleriand, that you did not go to Lórien and seek to be admitted as a Lóriennildo,” Laurendil commented.

Nestadôr gave him a wry grin. “Except I had no desire to take up an apprenticeship. I knew that my skills were no longer needed here where there are no battles and no illnesses, but that didn’t matter. What did was that I had found no acceptance among my family in Tirion and so I sought to find those whom I had met in Lórien or whom I knew from my first life and that meant coming here.”

“What did your family do?” Ingwion asked.

Nestadôr shrugged. “They first thought I had run away to Lórien.”

“A logical assumption,” Arafinwë said with a knowing smile. “My own son did something similar. Lórien was the first place I looked for him.”

The others turned to Finrod with inquisitive expressions. Finrod just smiled. “A long story, and I’m more interested in hearing about Nestadôr.”

“Yes, well, by the time they figured out their error, I was already on the island,” Nestadôr continued. “I did not come to Tavrobel, however. I took the first ship I could find which was going to Avallónë. I hired on as a hand to pay for my passage.”

“So you became a sailor?” Sador asked.

“Hardly,” Nestadôr answered with a laugh. “I was never so glad to find myself back on solid ground as when we finally came into the port. I vowed I would never set foot on a ship again. No. I am now living in a small community outside of Avallónë where I have a farm and raise horses. I only happened to be here in Tavrobel at this time because I wished to visit with friends.” He gave Hithrían and Saelmir warm smiles which they returned. “And now, of course, I have the added bonus of renewing our friendship, aran,” he ended, giving Finrod a wicked smile.

Finrod raised an eyebrow. “Just for that, you can do the dishes after tomorrow night’s feast,” he said in an imperious tone and Nestadôr laughed along with several others.

“But only if you help dry,” Nestadôr insisted with a smile.

“Of course,” Finrod replied in a tone that said the ellon was stating the obvious. The only ones who appeared to be shocked by his words were the three Councillors and Lindarion. “I am sorry, though,” he continued, “that your family was less than accepting.”

“We reconciled eventually,” Nestadôr said with a shrug. “In the end, all they wanted was for me to be happy. When they saw that I was content with what I had here on Tol Eressëa they accepted my decision. I still refuse to take ship to the mainland, so they come here every once in a while to visit.”

“And you, Saelmir,” Finrod turned to the Sinda, “what have you been up to?”

“Oh, this and that,” the ellon replied, giving them an ingenuous smile. “In Gondolin I was a metalsmith and I’ve taken up my trade again, making everything from kettles to candle sconces.”

“Then you belonged to the House of the Hammer of Wrath,” Glorfindel commented.

Saelmir nodded. “Though I was not much of a warrior,” he admitted, “being more interested in perfecting my craft. Still, at the end, I stood beside my lord and fought as I could, though it did little good to anyone, including me.”

“You made it possible for others to escape,” Glorfindel said gravely, “and that is the important thing. And at least you’re in good company,” he added, gesturing to the other Reborn.

“Well, we should be on our way,” Arafinwë said pointedly.

Finrod gestured to the several people who were still lingering in the Hall. “These people all want to speak to me or Glorfindel or Beleg,” he said. “Perhaps we can stay here for a while and meet you later at the camp.”

Arafinwë and Olwë exchanged looks and Arafinwë gave Finrod a nod. “Very well. We will leave you for now. This might be a good opportunity for you to follow up on what was discussed earlier.”

“My thought exactly,” Finrod said. “We will see you later then.”

With that the two kings, and Pelendur, along with Elennen and Calandil took their leave. As they were exiting the Hall, Olwë turned to Arafinwë. “I’d like to return to the shop run by young Balamir’s parents and finish negotiating for the sailcloth I told you about. Care to accompany me?”

Arafinwë nodded. “Yes, I am interested in seeing more of the harbor myself.” Captain Baradir then offered to escort them and Olwë accepted. Dúlinn and Sîdhwen claimed other duties and left as well.

“Why don’t you all take seats here in the front and we will sit here on these steps,” Finrod suggested, following his words by sitting on the top step of the dais, with Glorfindel and Beleg on either side of him. Ingwion, Lindarion, Sador, Alassiel, Amarië, Haldir, Eärnur, Laurendil, Manwen, and Gilvagor sat with them or on a lower step, as there was not enough room for them all on the top step. Edrahil, Eregil and Mithlas stood behind them in guard position, with Edrahil behind Finrod, Eregil behind Glorfindel and Mithlas behind Beleg. Hithrían, Nestadôr and Saelmir took seats immediately in the front and the others of Tavrobel who had remained behind found seats as well.

Before Finrod could say anything, one of the Tol Eressëan ellyn spoke up, speaking Sindarin. “Do you remember us, any of you?” He looked at the various Reborn who responded with puzzled expressions.

“How do you mean?” Glorfindel asked. “I see a few here that I think I remember from Gondolin, but I can put no names to the faces.”

Haldir nodded. “Same with me.”

Beleg shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t remember, but I’ve only just begun to reclaim most of my memories from before. Finrod, what about you?”

Finrod gave a shrug as well. “A few seem familiar, but....”

The ellon who had first asked the question nodded. “We would have been surprised if you had remembered us, actually. We,” and here he made a broad gesture to include all those sitting with him, “were just ordinary citizens of Gondolin or Nargothrond or the other kingdoms in Beleriand. Most of us had nothing to do with our rulers. Indeed, speaking for myself, I don’t think I ever saw you, Aran Finrod, except once or twice and then from a distance.”

Finrod looked thoughtful. “You lived in Nargothrond,” he said and it was more a statement than a question.

The ellon nodded. “I was actually born there,” he answered. “My name is Gwîrendur Gwîrendilion. My family were weavers in Nargothrond. I still am, in fact.”

Finrod nodded. “Gwîrendil Nathron, your adar was called,” he said, his eyes brightening with the memory. “He was renowned for the cloths that he wove as well as for his tapestries. I even purchased a couple for my own residence. Does he still live?”

Gwîrendur shook his head. “Nay. Neither of my parents survived the destruction of Nargothrond. My brother and sister were taken into captivity. I never did learn their fate, but must assume they too died in the end. I escaped a similar fate only because on that day I was wandering through the Taur-en-Faroth, collecting various plants that we used for making dyes for our wool.”

“I am deeply sorry to hear this,” Finrod said with a sigh. “I sometimes think that had I not left with Beren....”

“Nargothrond still would have fallen,” Glorfindel said, giving Finrod a stern look. “Lord Námo told you as much.”

Finrod nodded reluctantly. Gwîrendur shook his head. “We who survived never blamed you for what happened, aran,” he said. “We just wanted you to know that.” Several people there nodded their heads.

“Thank you,” Finrod said sincerely.

“No, aran,” an elleth said. “Thank you. Thank you all for your sacrifices so that the rest of us could live.”

Beleg gave them a wry look. “Well, I don’t think you can include me in that statement, seeing as how I did not die defending anyone.”

“Yet, you were a victim of Morgoth’s curse on the family of Húrin Thalion as much as the rest of us were to one extent or another, I deem,” someone said and there were affirmative nods all around.

“How do all of you feel about the lack of clear leadership here on Tol Eressëa?” Ingwion then asked. He had to wait for Manwen to translate his words into Sindarin before receiving an answer. She had taken upon herself to translate the conversation into Quenya for those of Aman who did not speak Sindarin.

There were a number of shrugs. Finally, Nestadôr answered. “Speaking solely for myself, I think we need a king of our own, someone we can all accept, but I know that not everyone feels as I do.”

“Who would you choose to be king?” Finrod asked.

Nestadôr gave him a wry grin. “Well, not you, obviously. Every time anyone addressed you as ‘aran’ they would end up doing the dishes.”

Saelmir and Hithrían started laughing, as did Finrod. “I couldn’t believe it when you threatened us with that,” Saelmir said.

Sador looked at Finrod, giving him a wide smile. “Care to explain?”

Finrod shook his head. “Nothing to explain, really. My first day in Lórien was not very comfortable for me with everyone staring at me and calling me ‘aran’. I finally threatened that the next person to call me that would end up washing the dishes of all the households in Eldamar.”

There was much laughter among them. “Sounds like you,” Glorfindel said.

“We weren’t sure if he was serious or not, but decided not to chance it,” Nestadôr said. “No one ever called him ‘aran’ after that.” Finrod’s smile was smug.

“But getting back to the question at hand,” Ingwion then said, “what are all of you hoping for? If not Findaráto as king, then who?”

“Do we need a king?” an elleth of Sindarin features asked. “Could we not choose among those who have shown leadership qualities since coming here to be our leader?”

“Yet, who would do the choosing and how?” Beleg asked, looking clearly puzzled.

“Here in Tavrobel each of the guildmasters votes for the one among them they feel would represent them in the Town Council fairly,” Hithrían said. “The same with the sea captains and the merchants. I’m not entirely sure how things are done in Kortirion or Avallónë....”

“Pretty much the same,” Laurendil said, “though in Kortirion there is a Head Councillor who is chosen by the other Councillors to be the one who has the final say in all decisions.”

“While here, there has to be a consensus between our Councillors before anything becomes law,” Hithrían said.

“In Avallónë it’s pretty much the same as you will find in Kortirion,” Nestadôr said. “Yet, the system doesn’t always work and often there are internal feuds between the various parties advocating one thing or another. It can become quite acrimonious at times.”

“Would you settle for someone who is chosen to act as a governor or steward with a type of privy council comprised of representatives from the three main communities to act in concert with the governor in making policy decisions by which all of you would abide?” Ingwion enquired, ignoring the considering look that Finrod gave him.

“He wouldn’t be a king,” Saelmir said, “but he would have a king’s authority?”

Ingwion shook his head. “Not absolute authority, though his would be the deciding vote if there is a tie among the council members. But he would act much as any king does to ensure the well-being of his subjects.”

“The question remains though, who would be chosen and how?” Gilvagor asked. “Do we ask people to put themselves forward and then have everyone vote with whoever gets the most votes becoming governor?”

“That is one possibility,” Ingwion said. “Another is that the governor, but not the privy council, is chosen by the Valar or by the three High Kings of Eldamar.”

“Yet, for how long would such a person rule?” Mithlas couldn’t help asking, forgetting for a moment that he was on guard duty. No one seemed to mind. “Do they govern for only a certain number of years before someone else takes over or until one of the kings is reborn and agrees to take up the crown?”

“Such details can always be decided later,” Glorfindel stated. “The important thing is to agree on a form of government by which all can abide. The rest will follow.”

“This is not something that needs to be, or even should be, decided now,” Finrod said. “We will be speaking to the people in Avallónë and Kortirion about this as well. For now it is important that people start thinking about it and the various options available. Care must be taken that the right course of action is agreed upon by as many as possible. The last thing we need is to have a small group of disgruntled people seeking to undermine the government, however that is ultimately conceived.”

There were nods all around. “I know how shocked I was to learn of the events that took place last year,” Saelmir said with a shake of his head. “I kept thinking that if we had a king of our own nothing like that would have happened.”

“Perhaps,” Finrod said mildly, “or perhaps not. Even within sight of the city of the Valar my brother was attacked and severely beaten by people who have lived under the Sîdh Belain all their lives.”

“You have given us much to think on,” Gwîrendur said. “We thank you for taking the time to speak to us and listen to us as well.”

“That is the reason for our being here,” Ingwion said. “Hopefully we will be able to come to a solution together.”

There was a brief pause and then Finrod decided it was time for them to head back to camp. The townspeople were reluctant to see them go but finally everyone departed. Finrod invited Hithrían, Nestadôr and Saelmir to the camp. The two ellyn accepted but Hithrían declined, saying she had things she needed to do. “I will see you tomorrow night at the welcoming feast, anyway,” she reminded them and with that she left them, after giving Finrod a fond kiss. Just outside the town they met Olwë and Arafinwë and those with them and together they made their way back to the encampment, quietly discussing the events of the day.

****

Words are Sindarin:

Nathron: Webster or weaver. This is the masculine form; the feminine would be nethril. Cf. masc. lathron and fem. lethril  ‘listener’.

Taur-en-Faroth: Also called High Faroth, the wooded highlands west of the river Narog above Nargothrond. In the Lay of Leithian they are referred to as the ‘Hills of the Hunters’.

Sîdh Belain: Peace of the Valar.