76: The First Day in Avallónë (Part I)

They all gathered for the noon meal after having toured the villa and its grounds, admiring the view of the harbor and the city from one of the garden terraces. The three Lóriennildi, along with Iorlas, joined them, and Eärnur gave them a report on Lasgalad’s condition. Gilvagor acted as translator for Iorlas who knew only a few phrases in Quenya.

“He is responding well to treatment and is now in healing sleep,” he said as he slathered some butter on a freshly baked roll. “Berethrandir is watching him for the moment.”

“What did you do for him that Lord Elrond could not?” Mithlas asked. “I know Lord Elrond and he is a master healer for all that he is not even six hundred years old yet.”

Eärnur nodded. “Indeed, he is a master of his craft, but he has not had the benefit of having Valar and Maiar as his teachers.” He gave them a grin. “As it is, I had to purify Lasgalad’s blood.” They all looked at him in surprise. “It’s a technique taught only to those who have reached journeyman status. While I am more interested in learning the art of healing the fëa, all journeymen are required to have extensive knowledge of certain healing techniques that apply to the hröa as well.”

“So, if you had not been here,” Finrod said, giving the Teler a considering look, “Lasgalad might have died?”

“He would have died,” Eärnur said baldly. “He would not have made it alive to Lórien. Neither Laurendil nor Manwen know this technique and I doubt anyone else on Tol Eressëa knows about it either.”

“So he’s healed,” Glorfindel said.

Eärnur shook his head. “He is in no danger of dying or fading but he is not completely healed. He will have to go to Lórien for that, but at the moment he is too weak to travel that far. I think it best that he and Iorlas travel with us so we Lóriennildi can monitor his condition. We are not leaving Avallónë for a few days. That will give him plenty of time to recover some of his strength, enough at least to travel in short stages. The journey to Kortirion should not overtax him.”

Then Arafinwë spoke, addressing Iorlas. “I know that this must be very overwhelming for you, Iorlas, but I want you to know that you are among friends. Your devotion to Lasgalad, even to the point of giving up your own happiness to accompany him, will not go unrewarded, I assure you.”

Iorlas sighed, his expression troubled, but he thanked the king with softly spoken words, though he did not look up from his plate. He had sat there listening to the conversation, picking at his food, but not really eating. Manwen placed a hand on his arm to get his attention. “You will not do Lasgalad any good if you continue this way,” she said, speaking Sindarin. “He will need you to be there for him in the coming days. Now, stop playing with your food and eat.” She gave him a stern look which forced a smile from him.

“Yes, Nana,” he said, sounding like an elfling. “Anything you say, Nana. If I eat all my vegetables, can I go out ’n’ play, Nana?”

“We’ll see,” Manwen responded with a smirk and the others started laughing.

“So now we know why Lord Irmo had you come with us,” Olwë said to Eärnur once they calmed down.

“I am sure it’s not the only reason,” Finrod interjected hastily when he saw the startled look on Eärnur’s face, “though it cannot be denied that it was an important reason. I am very glad you are here with us, but not just because of Lasgalad. You were my first real friend after I was re-embodied and I have always treasured that. Lord Irmo knows this and he no doubt knew how much I would enjoy having you with us on this trip.”

Finrod’s words mollified the young Teler and the conversation drifted to other topics, in particular, what they hoped to accomplish while in Avallónë. “I want to find out if the rumors about Manwen and me have reached Avallónë,” Laurendil said. “Manwen and I lived here for a time before moving to Kortirion and we still have many friends here. I was thinking we should stroll through the city alone and see what reaction we get from people who will recognize us.”

The others nodded with Gilvagor quickly filling Iorlas in on the situation and the reason for the kings being there. Then Finrod spoke up. “And I want to find Brethorn and Alphedis. Nestadôr told me where they live.” He turned to Amarië. “Would you like to come with me, you and Alassiel?” The two ellith both smiled and nodded their heads.

“Take Iorlas with you,” Eärnur suggested, “and introduce him to his new home.” Iorlas started to protest but Eärnur cut him off. “No, my friend. You need to get away for a few hours. Lasgalad is fine and is not going anywhere. Time for you to take care of you for a change.”

“Eärnur is correct,” Finrod said. “Come. We will explore the city together, the four of us.”

“And what about the rest of us?” Ingwion asked.

“Why don’t we split up into small groups as well and wander about like we did in Tavrobel?” Lindarion suggested.

Arafinwë and Olwë both nodded. “That sounds like a good idea,” the Noldóran said. “We won’t be meeting with any of the local leaders until tomorrow anyway, so the rest of the day is ours to do as we please. However, I think it best if you Reborn are not all in one group.” There were groans from several of the Reborn but no one raised any objections. In the end, Edrahil agreed to accompany Finrod while Arafinwë insisted that Laurendil and Manwen not wander alone. “I don’t think it wise,” he said and so it was agreed that Eregil would go with them. As a Sinda he would not be immediately associated with the Noldor. Olwë said he would take Lindarion, Beleg and Elennen while Sador, Celepharn and Calandil would go with Arafinwë. Gilvagor, Mithlas, Glorfindel and Ingwion decided to tour the city together. Pelendur hesitantly asked Haldir if he cared to join him, just the two of them, which surprised the ellon, but he readily agreed. Eärnur elected to remain behind to keep an eye on Lasgalad.

“There will be plenty of time for me to see the sights,” he told them. “For the moment I think it best that I remain here. Besides, in treating Lasgalad I used up much of my own energy and am in no mood to go wandering any further than to my bedroom for a nice long nap.” That set everyone laughing and shortly thereafter they dispersed to wander through the city.

****

Laurendil and Manwen walked arm-in-arm through the city while Eregil trailed slightly behind them gawking at everything. Laurendil exchanged an amused smile with Manwen and then turned to speak to the Reborn. “Try to keep up, Eregil. I don’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

“I’m not going to run off like poor Edrahil,” Eregil protested, but he closed the gap between them and walked on Laurendil’s other side. “It’s a lot different from Dorthonion.”

Laurendil laughed. “To say the least.”

“Do you know what happened to the others of our company?” Eregil suddenly asked. “Did any survive?”

“Most did,” Laurendil answered, “and as far as I know they still reside in Ennorath. Carangil died, as did Dúlinnion. Perhaps now that you’ve been released from Mandos, they will be, too.”

Eregil nodded. “I don’t recall seeing them in Mandos, but the Halls seem to go on forever and I never explored them all. It’ll be nice to see them again when they are released.” Then he lapsed into silence, too busy taking in the sights to speak further. Manwen then asked a question of her husband as they traversed a small square. “Do you have a specific goal in mind or are we merely wandering?”

“I was thinking of making our way to the central square,” Laurendil replied. “Do you remember that small bookshop that we discovered shortly after our arrival?”

“Oh yes,” she answered, her eyes brightening. “We’re bound to run into one of our old friends there or somewhere in the square. It’s a popular meeting place, after all.”

“My thought exactly,” Laurendil said.

They entered the central square in a short time. It was not as crowded as Eregil expected and Laurendil pointed out that it was not a market day. “Believe me, this square becomes rather busy then. Ah, there is the shop.” He pointed to where a small shop nestled in one corner of the square. There was a sign above the entrance showing an open book and the words ‘The Book Nook’, written in both Quenya and Sindarin script. In smaller letters was the shop owner’s name, Minyon Vardamirion, followed by the words ‘Parmamacar’ and ‘Bachor i-pherf’.

“Anyone home?” Laurendil called out as he and Manwen entered the shop with Eregil close behind. The shop turned out to consist of nothing but shelves stuffed full with leather-bound books of every size and quality. There were a few embossed with gold or silver or precious gemstones, while many others were plain and unadorned. A small counter was tucked into one corner of the room and at the back of the shop a set of three steps led to a raised area where comfortable chairs and a sofa were placed around a low table. Behind the counter was a curtained doorway which was pushed aside as an ellon came through. Eregil looked upon him with interest. He was a Noldo, and Eregil suspected that this was probably the shop owner, as the name on the sign attested. What was unusual about him was that his hair was definitely black, a rarity among the Eldar, and Eregil could not recall seeing any other Noldo with black hair. When the ellon saw them he broke out in a broad smile.

“Laurendil! Manwen!” he exclaimed, holding out his hands in greeting. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“We just came today,” Laurendil said with a grin, “and naturally you were our first stop.”

“Naturally,” Minyon said with a laugh. “So who is your friend?”

“Oh, excuse me,” Laurendil said apologetically. “This is Eregil, who was once a member of the company of rangers I led in Beleriand. Eregil, this is Minyon, who gave up being a warrior for books.”

“A much safer occupation, I assure you,” Minyon said with a smile, then bowed to Eregil. “Mae govannen. Have you recently sailed?”

Eregil shook his head. “No. I died in the Dagor Bragollach,” he said simply.

Minyon gave him a startled look, turning to Laurendil for confirmation. Laurendil nodded. “Eregil has only recently been released from Mandos.”

“Well, will wonders never cease,” Minyon exclaimed. Then he turned to Laurendil. “So what brings you back to Avallónë?”

“You still brew that sorry excuse for wine you kept telling the Edain was actually miruvor?” Laurendil asked with a wicked grin.

Minyon laughed. “Indeed I do. Come. Make yourselves comfortable in the reading corner while I close up the shop and then you can tell me all about it.”

He proceeded to do just that while Laurendil, Manwen and Eregil made their way to the upper level of the shop. Eregil raised an eyebrow. “Miruvor?” he asked.

Manwen rolled her eyes and Laurendil laughed. “Not even close,” he said.

****

Pelendur and Haldir walked along a tree-shaded avenue, neither of them speaking, but the silence between them was not strained. “I overheard Gilvagor tell Findaráto that this city was modeled on the ones built by the Falasseldi,” Pelendur said without preamble. “Did you ever see them?”

Haldir shook his head. “I was busy helping with the construction of Vinyamar,” he replied and when Pelendur gave him an enquiring look, he explained. “Turucáno’s first city before he built Gondolin.”

Pelendur shook his head. “I cannot imagine being hidden away for so long. How did you endure it?”

Haldir stopped and leaned against a low wall that bounded someone’s garden, staring pensively at the flowers but not actually seeing them. “It wasn’t so bad,” he finally answered. “We had more than four hundred years of peace and prosperity. The city and the people flourished. I flourished. I had a respected position in Lord Glorfindel’s household and when Gwilwileth consented to marry me, my joy knew no bounds.”

“Yet, in the end....” Pelendur started to say but Haldir cut him off.

“In the end, I still have Gwilwileth,” he said quietly, “and that is all that truly matters. What happened to me, happened, and there is nothing either of us can do to change that. I am sorry that we parted so bitterly, Atar. That has always been my deepest regret.”

They were silent for a time. Haldir continued to stare at the garden while Pelendur kept his eyes on the ground, deep in thought. Then he raised his head and stared at his son. “Is Haldir a direct translation of Hallatiro?” he asked suddenly and Haldir gave him a surprised look.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “It is a name in its own right and means ‘hidden hero’.” He smiled at his atar’s look of surprise. “I thought it was appropriate.”

Pelendur nodded. “So it would seem.”

They continued on their way, stopping at one point to admire a fountain that graced a small square, depicting Lord Ulmo surrounded by dolphins.

“Do you think you will ever return to Tirion?” Pelendur asked as they walked around the fountain, neatly avoiding the group of elflings playing with the water.

Haldir shook his head. “Unlikely, at least not in the immediate future,” he replied. “Gwilwileth and I have only just been reunited. She’s lived a life that I never got to share with her and we need time together, time alone, to rebuild what we once had.”

“Your emmë misses you, you know,” Pelendur stated.

“I know,” Haldir responded, “but it’s not a permanent separation and we can always visit or you could come here. Gwilwileth and I would love to have you both visit our home.”

“Perhaps I should have asked your emmë to come with us,” Pelendur said, then gave Haldir a wry look. “Although, I am not here voluntarily, as you know.”

Haldir gave his atar a shake of his head. “While I admire King Arafinwë’s wish to see us reconciled, I am sorry he forced you to come here.”

“I’m not,” came the surprising reply. “I think I needed to see for myself the kind of life you are now living and the respect that others have for you. It has been a... humbling experience. I cannot say that I entirely approve of what you did. So much of my own hopes and dreams died during the Darkening and I thought I had lost you forever.”

Haldir put his arms around Pelendur and hugged him. “Not forever, Atto,” he said quietly. “Just until all the Ages of Arda were spent, but, that is not what has happened, is it? Instead, by the grace of the Valar, I have been restored to you and emmë, but I am not the same ellon who left, nor do I ever want to return to what I was before. Too much has happened since.”

“I realize that,” Pelendur said, giving Haldir his own hug. “I guess I just couldn’t let go of the bitterness. It’s why I refused to follow Arafinwë to the war. I could not see why we should be rescuing you who deserted us for naught but a fool’s dream.”

“Perhaps it was a fool’s dream,” Haldir said with a sigh, “but while it lasted, it was glorious.”

They fell silent again as they walked out of the square and down a winding street that seemed to lead towards the harbor. “Come,” Pelendur said. “Let us find a tavern and have something to drink and I will tell you what happened to us after you left. I do not think you know all the details.”

Haldir shook his head. “In Lórien they told us in general terms what occurred in Aman after we fled, but specific details about individuals were not forthcoming. I think they expected our families to fill in the gaps.”

“The Darkening affected us all differently, especially we Noldor who had remained behind. Tirion was a city of mist and phantoms. It was worse than when Ingwë removed his people to Vanyamar.”

“Let us find that tavern, then,” Haldir said, “and you can tell me what it was like for you and emmë and, if you are interested, I will tell you something about how we fared as we made our way to Endórë.”

Pelendur nodded, putting an arm around his son’s shoulders. “I would like that very much.”

****

Ingwion insisted that the other three speak in Sindarin so he could practice. “I’ve been learning as much as I can,” he said speaking the language haltingly, “but I know I need more practice.”

The other three smiled. “That you are willing to learn is well,” Gilvagor said. “We will speak Sindarin then.”

“So, where are we going?” Glorfindel asked, “and what will we do when we get there?”

“Hmmm.... I really hadn’t thought about it,” Gilvagor said. “Avallónë is the first city for all who come from Ennorath. Here is where you are likely to hear the latest news about Gil-galad’s kingdom. We could go down to the harbor and wander around there.”

Ingwion shook his head. “If I know Olwë, he’s already headed that way.” The others chuckled in acknowledgment. “Why don’t we go somewhere different? How well do you or Mithlas know this city?”

Mithlas shrugged. “When I arrived I was in no state to pay much attention to anything around me,” he explained. “In fact, I was placed immediately on another ship that was bound for Tavrobel and from there I was sent on to Lórien. When I came back here, I went to live with friends in a small community on the north side of the island, closer to Kortirion than Avallónë. I came back to Avallónë only when news was brought to me that my naneth and sister had arrived and then I was too busy arranging for them to go to Lórien for treatment to bother with sightseeing.”

“I know Avallónë well enough,” Gilvagor said, “having been here a number of times. Is there anything in particular that you are interested in seeing or should we just wander around and see what mischief we can get into without half trying?”

The other three laughed. “Why don’t we find a tavern and sit for a while?” Glorfindel suggested. “We can let Ingwion practice his Sindarin while we have some wine. I’ll even tell you what I’ve been up to since the Tournament ended.”

“That’s right,” Ingwion said. “You remained behind at Lady Nienna’s after Aldundil, Vorondil and I left, but you’ve not really told anyone what you did there.”

“I told Finrod and Sador,” Glorfindel said, “but I haven’t felt like telling anyone else.”

“So why now and why us?” Gilvagor asked.

Glorfindel shrugged. “I know everyone is curious about what I was doing for the last several months, but I haven’t felt comfortable explaining it to a large group of people, some of whom I barely know. I decided I would tell a few people at a time, especially those whom I consider my gwedyr. I am hoping that there will be opportunities like this one for me to speak about my adventures with Beleg and Haldir and Laurendil.”

“Well then,” Gilvagor said. “It so happens that I know a nice little tavern that looks out onto the main square of the city. We can sit outside and watch the world go by while you tell us all about what you’ve been up to.”

The others readily agreed to Gilvagor’s suggestion and after getting his bearings he led them towards the tavern. Along the way Glorfindel began telling them about his time at Lady Nienna’s. He was describing the lesson he had given Lisselindë that had involved three of Lord Manwë’s Maiar as they came to the tavern and found a table in the courtyard fronting the establishment, shaded by a grape arbor.

“Some lesson,” Mithlas commented as they settled around the table.

A servitor came and they gave him their orders. When they were alone again, Glorfindel nodded. “I was so furious, I really wanted to kill something,” he said. “I couldn’t believe Lord Manwë had sent three of his Maiar to protect me. Protect me! It was Lisselindë who needed the protection.”

The other three ellyn laughed at Glorfindel’s affronted expression. “Perhaps Lord Manwë knew that and sent the Maiar to stop you from doing anything... um... impetuous,” Ingwion suggested.

The others stared at him in confusion. “Alagos?” Glorfindel asked. “What does my horse have to do with anything?”

Now Ingwion was looking nonplused. “I didn’t say anything about your horse,” he protested.

Then Gilvagor started laughing. “You meant ‘alag’,” he said, switching to Quenya for the sake of clarity. “‘Alagos’ means ‘windstorm’. Though, mind you, I can imagine anyone who is on the wrong side of Glorfindel’s wrath would probably think they’re in the middle of one.” He gave Glorfindel a wink. Glorfindel stuck his tongue out at him and Mithlas chuckled, nodding his head in agreement.

“Oh, sorry,” Ingwion said, blushing.

“That’s all right,” Glorfindel said. “It can be very confusing when words are very similar in sound but not quite the same in meaning. You’re doing very well all things considered. Who’s been teaching you? Valandur?”

Ingwion nodded. “Partly,” he said, blushing a bit more. “Most of my lessons have actually been with Lord Námo.”

There were raised eyebrows at that announcement. Before anyone could respond, however, an ellon approached their table. “Well, well. What do you know? The two people I hate the most right here in front of me.”

They all looked up in surprise. “Findegil!” Gilvagor exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Findegil raised an eyebrow. “I live here, in case you’ve forgotten,” he replied. “The question is, what are all of you doing here?”

“Wait!” Glorfindel interjected. “Which two of us do you hate the most?”

Findegil pointed first at Gilvagor and then at Ingwion. “These two defeated me in the Tournament.”

“And now you hate us?” Ingwion asked in disbelief.

Findegil nodded, keeping his expression blank. “With a passion. In fact, I hate you two so much that I’ve decided to name my firstborn son after you both.”

“What!?” came the protest from four throats.

Findegil stared at them for a count of five and then burst out laughing. “You should see your faces,” he exclaimed, pointing at them.

There were groans and muttered curses as the four ellyn realized they’d been the victim of Findegil’s jest. “You’re really going to name your son after us?” Ingwion asked.

Findegil nodded as he took the seat that Mithlas offered him. “We’ve already decided on Ingilvagor, though we will probably end up shortening it to Ingil.”

No one seemed to notice Ingwion going absolutely still, staring at nothing in particular, as the others demanded details about the coming birth, but then Glorfindel turned to say something to him and saw how white he was. “Ingwion? Is there something wrong?” he asked, placing a hand on the ellon’s arm.

Ingwion stirred, as if from a dream. “Wrong? No. Nothing’s wrong.” He shook his head and forced himself to be attentive to what Findegil was telling them about his life even as Gilvagor was filling him in on why they were all in Avallónë. Glorfindel, however, noticed that every once in a while Ingwion’s attention strayed and his expression became wistful. He thought he detected unshed tears glimmering in the ellon’s eyes. Without saying a word, he reached over and gave Ingwion’s arm a squeeze. The Vanya looked at him with a puzzled expression, but Glorfindel only nodded, his own expression one of deep compassion. He leaned over and whispered in Ingwion’s ear. “It’s all right. I know.”

The other three ellyn stopped in the midst of their conversation in surprise when Ingwion suddenly burst into tears. When Gilvagor started to say something, Glorfindel shook his head, taking Ingwion into his embrace and gently rocking him, all the while softly humming an ancient lullaby.

****

Parmamacar/Bachor i-Pherf: (Quenya and Sindarin, respectively) Book Pedlar.

Alagos: (Sindarin) ‘Storm of wind’, which also happens to be the name of Glorfindel’s horse. The Quenya cognate would be alacossë.

Alag: (Sindarin) ‘Impetuous, rushing’. Obviously, alag and alagos (also alagon ‘storm’), derived from the same root, ÁLAK-, are very close in meaning and therein lay Ingwion’s confusion. Further compounding the confusion (for Ingwion, at least) is the fact that the Quenya cognate of alag is alaco ‘rush, rushing flight, wild wind’, but this is a noun whereas the Sindarin word is an adjective.

Notes:

1. In The Shibboleth of Fëanor, Tolkien describes Finwë as having ‘black hair, but brilliant grey-blue eyes’ (Note 19) [see Peoples of Middle-earth, HoME XII].

2. Haldir ‘Hidden hero’, according to the Etymologies, s.v. SKAL(1)- [‘The Lost Road’, HoME V]. In Quenya the name would be rendered Haldaner. Hallatiro became Heledir in Sindarin.