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

81: Garden Party

Before anyone else could react to the presence of the Nandor, Sador suddenly leapt up. “Go away!” he yelled at them, brandishing his knife as he started towards Laeglîr. “You’re not welcome here.”

Instantly, Glorfindel was up and had his arms wrapped around the ellon before Sador had taken three more steps, calmly wrenching the knife out of his hand.

“No!” Sador screamed in Sindarin. “They were going to kill Beleg! They were going to kill my gwador.” He struggled vainly in Glorfindel’s arms for a few more seconds and then collapsed in tears. “They were going to kill my gwador,” he repeated, sobbing inconsolably.

There was a pained silence all around. Beleg rose and went to Sador, taking him into his arms when Glorfindel released him. “But they didn’t,” he said softly, “and they wouldn’t have. Hush now, all is well, all is well.”

Laeglîr turned to Dairuin and whispered something to him. He nodded and motioned for the other four Nandor and they all divested themselves of their weapons, piling them outside the pavilion. In the meantime, Laeglîr stepped forward and faced Beleg and Sador, who by now had ceased weeping but had not yet removed himself from Beleg’s embrace.

“I regret that we met under such circumstances, Beleg of Doriath,” she said softly. “Even we Nandor have heard of you and your great deeds.”

“I sought no great deeds, Laeglîr of Garth Hallâd,” Beleg replied gravely, sounding more like the Marchwarden of old than one recently reborn, “but great deeds found me, nonetheless.”

Laeglîr nodded. “And I regret that we threatened you and your party with death. I am afraid Lord Araw was correct. We Nandor have become too reclusive, too narrow in our thinking. Please accept my apology for causing you and your friends any grief.”

“Your apology is welcome,” Beleg said formally and with great dignity, then looked down at Sador who had not moved nor made a sound during the exchange. “Do you hear, my brother? Laeglîr has apologized and I have accepted her apology. Will you not do the same for friendship’s sake?”

Sador stirred, giving Laeglîr a scowl. “I am sorry I yelled at you,” he said.

Laeglîr raised an eyebrow and gave Beleg an enquiring look. Beleg grinned. “I’m afraid that’s the best you’re going to get out of him, lady. Sador is still rather young.”

“You’re younger than I am,” the ellon protested, stepping out of Beleg’s embrace. “I was reborn first.”

Now there was gentle laughter among the party and Finrod shook his head in amusement. “Beleg is far older than you in experience, and you know it, Sador. Now come, make a proper apology and let us all be friends.”

Sador sighed and would not look at anyone. “I’m sorry for my actions. I was so afraid and....”

Laeglîr took him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “I quite understand and I am sorry you suffered such anguish for your gwador. I realize now that we were wrong to threaten anyone with death. I fear our own history got the better of us.”

“Well, now that that is settled,” Morcocáno suddenly said, sounding put out, “would you like to explain what you are doing here, Laeglîr? I do not recall inviting any of you to this gathering.”

Laeglîr gave him an amused look. “No doubt an oversight on your part, Morcocáno,” she said. “But as it happens, we are not here for you. We came to speak to the mainlanders.” She turned her attention to the two kings and gave them a respectful bow as between fellow rulers. “We sought you at the estate where you are residing and were told that you were here.”

“And how did you come to know where we are residing?” Olwë asked, his tone mild.

Laeglîr shrugged. “We may prefer to stay hidden in our garth, but I have my sources in the city,” was all she said and both Olwë and Arafinwë nodded, understanding what she meant.

Morcocáno scowled at her. “Well, regardless, you are not welcome....”

“On the contrary,” Olwë said, “they are very welcome here. Come. Let us make room for the new arrivals. Lady Laeglîr, if you and your people would do the honor of joining us then you may tell us why you have sought us out.”

Arafinwë motioned to Calandil. “Find some more chairs and have the servants bring additional tableware. I think if our people shift about we can squeeze everyone in.”

Finrod made his own suggestion. “Have another table brought in, Atar, and some of us will sit there.”

Arafinwë nodded and Calandil and some of the other guards left the pavilion to see to it. The Tol Eressëan lords and ladies sat there in bemusement as the Amanians bustled about. Morcocáno especially looked affronted, but remained silent. When a small table and six more chairs were brought in, they watched as several of their guests calmly took up their trenchers and chairs and moved over to the other table. Among them were Beleg and a subdued Sador. Finrod and Glorfindel joined them, as did Ingwion, who stated that he’d had enough of being the High King’s representative and wished to simply enjoy himself with his cousin and their friends. Amarië, and Alassiel joined them, as did Lindarion, much to his and everyone else’s surprise. Then, Thorongorn asked Finrod somewhat hesitantly if he and his wife might also sit with them and Finrod welcomed them gladly.

“We were just getting acquainted,” he said, “so I look forward to continuing our conversation.”

Olwë then gestured for Laeglîr to sit beside him while Arafinwë gestured for Dairuin to join him. The other four Nandor were then directed to sit where they would and they shyly introduced themselves to those sitting beside them. The Amanians greeted them warmly though the Tol Eressëans sitting across from them were less enthusiastic. Edrahil, Eregil, Mithlas, Haldir and Gilvagor shifted about so that each of them was seated near one of the Nandor to act as translators for the benefit of those who spoke one language but not the other. Gilvagor took it upon himself to act as translator for the two kings.

At the smaller table, Finrod was introducing Thorongorn and Eirien to the others and there was much laughter when Amarië attempted to greet them in Sindarin using the traditional greeting but, forgetting how to say ‘our meeting’, she ended up substituting it with the Quenya form.

“Gîl híla nan lû... ah... um... omentielvo.” She gave them an apologetic look. “I can’t remember how to say it,” she muttered, looking abashed, but Finrod held her close and gave her a loving kiss.

“Govaded vîn,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all she said, still looking embarrassed.

Thorongorn gave her a friendly smile. “We are honored that you at least made the attempt, lady,” he said speaking in careful Quenya. “My own command of Quenya is less than sterling. My lady wife speaks it better than I.”

Eirien gave them a smile. “I was intrigued enough by the Noldor when they came to Beleriand that I made a point of learning Quenya from any who would teach me.”

“I was not aware that there were any Noldor living in Eglarest,” Glorfindel said.

“My uncle and Círdan exchanged ambassadors,” Finrod explained. “This must have been after Turgon disappeared into Gondolin. I remember that there was much consternation when all of Vinyamar emptied out and no one knew wither you had gone. With Elu Thingol closing Doriath to all the Noldor but myself and my sister, my uncle knew he needed allies among the Sindar who were not of Doriath. Turgon’s disappearance left us vulnerable.”

Eirien nodded. “I went to Lord Círdan and asked to be allowed to learn Quenya in spite of Thingol’s ban. Círdan permitted it, stating that what the King of Doriath ordered within his own realm was his own business but he, as lord of the Falathrim, was not bound to obey him. So, I became attached to the household of the Noldorin delegation and they were kind enough to teach me Quenya while I helped them improve their Sindarin.”

At the main table, meanwhile, Olwë and Arafinwë were speaking to Laeglîr and Dairuin. The Speaker for the Nandorin community was explaining why she had sought them out. “Lord Araw’s appearance shook us,” she said, “and we spent the remainder of the night in council pondering his words.” She paused and gave them a rueful look. “In the back of my mind I knew of the Belain, especially of the Lord of Forests, from the tales told me by my parents who made the Great Migration, following Denethor into Beleriand. Yet, it never occurred to me — to us — that here in the West we might actually encounter him or any of the Powers.”

“It does take getting used to, without a doubt,” Olwë said solicitously. “The Valar do not often interact with us. Most of our own people have never had anything to do with them or their Maiar servants.”

Laeglîr nodded. “At any rate, we came to the conclusion that what Lord Araw said was true. We can no longer live as if we were the sole inhabitants of this island. Our time of seclusion must come to an end and we must join with the rest of the inhabitants, welcoming them to our communities.”

“A wise decision,” Arafinwë said, “and one that I am sure will benefit us all.”

“Yet, it will be hard for us,” Dairuin interjected. “Even in Beleriand we kept to ourselves and followed none but our own leaders.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Sador suddenly said from the other table, for he had overheard Dairuin’s words. All eyes turned to him and he blushed under their regard, but continued on. “Did not Lord Beren call upon the Nandor of Tol Galen to join him in avenging Elu Thingol’s murder by the Dwarves, and he a Mortal?”

“True,” Laeglîr said with a nod. “At the time, though, I thought it foolishness to become involved in such an enterprise and told my brother as much, for he would join in the ambush of the Naugrim. He told me that Lord Beren was worthy of being followed and that we could not always pretend that the world beyond our borders could not affect us.”

“Your brother is wise,” Finrod said.

“Alas, not wise enough,” Laeglîr said sorrowfully. “Laerlîr died. It is the reason I decided to accept the Belain’s offer and come here. When he is finally released from Lord Bannoth’s care I want to be there to tell him ‘I told you so’.”

There was an uncomfortable silence among the elves and then Sador, surprisingly, spoke up. “I hope you hug him and tell him how much you love him first before you scold him, though. He’s going to be feeling very unsure of his welcome from you.”

Laeglîr gave the ellon a searching look but seeing the absolute sincerity in his eyes, nodded. “I will remember that, youngling. Thank you.”

“We of Aman recognize that there is much disagreement as to whether a centralized government would work here on Tol Eressëa and if so what form it should take,” Arafinwë then said, steering the conversation to the topic of main concern for the Amanians and their Tol Eressëan friends. “We would be interested in hearing what the Nandor think.”

“That might not be possible,” Dairuin said ruefully. “Each of the Nandorin communities is separate unto itself. Each has its own Speaker but none of the Speakers gather in council.”

“Something to which I have always objected,” Laeglîr stated. “I have long advocated for all the Speakers of the various garths to come together on occasion to discuss matters of common interest to our people, but so far, I have not been successful. A few agree with me, but most have yet to be convinced of its necessity.”

“Are there many such communities?” Pelendur asked.

Laeglîr shook her head. “Certainly not as many as there were in Ossiriand,” she replied. “Most of the Nandor who survived the cataclysm that destroyed Beleriand still reside in Ennorath. But we are numerous enough that we spread ourselves out among the forests that still cover much of this island. Garth Hallâd is the oldest of our settlements.”

“Just as Avallónë is the oldest of the three cities,” Morcocáno interjected somewhat haughtily. “It is only meet that any government should reside here rather than in Kortirion or, the Valar forbid, Tavrobel.”

“Not everyone will agree,” Olwë said mildly. “Kortirion has the advantage of being in a more central location than Avallónë. It only makes sense to have the seat of government in a place that is easily accessible to all.”

There were mutters from some of the Avallóneans, but Thorongorn spoke up. “I’ve been telling them that for years now,” he said. “Avallónë is not easily reached except either by the one road out of Kortirion or by ship. The outlying communities....”

“Are of no real importance,” Morcocáno interrupted with a scowl. “Farmers and traders will not be sitting in council deciding policy.”

“And how do you know this?” Finrod asked. “There has been no decision as to the type of government that will rule here. It may well be that farmers and traders will indeed be asked to sit in council alongside the nobles.”

“Bah! Such nonsense,” Morcocáno exclaimed in disgust. “Who sits on the councils of you kings of Aman? I doubt you have ever invited any of your farmers or traders to do so.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Ingwion said with a malicious smile, “one of my atar’s most trusted councillors is a wine merchant.”

There was much raising of eyebrows at that revelation. Finrod leaned over to whisper into Ingwion’s ear. “He’s also one of the great nobles of the Vanyar.”

Ingwion whispered back. “A minor detail that they don’t need to know.” The cousins exchange conspiratorial smiles.

“At any rate, we are getting side-tracked in our discussion,” Arafinwë said, giving the two ellyn a knowing smile. “The point is, my lord, politically and geographically, it only makes sense that Kortirion be the seat of government. Avallónë will always have pride of place as being the oldest city and the first that those from Endórë come to.”

“Yet, there is a question that remains,” Laeglîr then said. “Who will decide what shape this government will take? The Nandor have never had a king lording over them as is the way among the Sindar and those of Aman. Why should we allow ourselves to be so governed when we have done well enough on our own?”

“These are certainly valid points,” Olwë averred. “I think that perhaps a council should be called wherein each community sends a representative to speak for the interests of the people there. Let the council offer possible solutions on which the populace can vote.”

“Vote!” one of the Avallónean lords exclaimed. “Did you call a vote when you became king of the Teleri?”

Olwë raised an eyebrow. “Actually, that is exactly what happened. When Lord Ulmo returned and summoned us to join the Noldor and Vanyar who were now in Aman, those desiring to leave Beleriand chose me as their king, though I was very reluctant to accept, for I wished still to search for my brother. Yet, it was by popular acclamation that I was chosen.”

“Still, your brother was acknowledged as the leader of the Third Clan,” Thorongorn pointed out. “It would stand to reason for you to succeed him in the leadership.”

Olwë shook his head. “There were others equally capable of leading them,” he replied. “I initially refused and told them to look elsewhere for a king, but it was Lord Ulmo who convinced me to accept the crown, assuring me that my brother was alive and someday he would return to our people and rule them but those who desired to continue the journey needed me to rule them as I had been doing since Elwë disappeared. I was not entirely convinced, but one rarely wins an argument with a Vala, and so I am here.” This last was said with a shrug and a self-deprecating smile and there was gentle laughter all around.

“It would have been so much simpler if one of our kings had survived to rule us,” someone said with a sigh.

“But that is not what happened,” Gilvagor said then, “and Gil-galad would not abandon those who wished to tarry in Endórë. So it is up to us, all of us, who make our home here on Tol Eressëa to come to a solution which all can accept or at least live with. There are bound to be those who will not like whatever solution we come up with, but hopefully they will be in the minority.”

“And when would such a council be called?” Laeglîr asked, “and who should lead it?”

“These are details that can be worked out later,” Olwë said. “At the moment it is enough that people agree that such a council is needed. The whys and wherefores can be sorted out later.”

“His Majesty is correct,” Thorongorn said. “Let each community choose a representative to attend the council, but I think it would be wise to have someone from Aman oversee it as a neutral observer who will have no voting power.”

“Yet, where would such a council take place?” Eirien asked. “I do not think even Avallónë is equipped to house and feed the delegates, let alone provide a large enough meeting place.”

“The same is true for Kortirion and Tavrobel,” Gilvagor added.

“There may be a place....” Ingwion started to say but his voice trailed off as he frowned in thought. Then he shook his head. “I will need to think on it some more. My atar needs to be consulted first, I think.”

“And why should he be consulted?” one of the Avallónean nobles, a Sinda, asked.

Ingwion gave him a cool stare. “He is High King of All the Elves, after all.”

“High King of the Elves of Aman,” the noble retorted, “not of Tol Eressëa.”

“Yet, Tol Eressëa is considered a part of Eldamar,” Arafinwë pointed out, “At least as far as the Valar are concerned. You need not fear that Ingwë will dictate to you in this matter, but he has a vested interest in seeing that this situation is resolved as quickly and as equably as possible. He, as High King, must answer to the Valar for the rest of us.”

“At any rate,” Olwë added, “no real decision need be made now. We still must consult with the people of Kortirion about this. Those of Tavrobel are amenable to the idea of a council and their leaders have assured us that they will contact the outlying communities that look to Tavrobel for guidance. We hope you will do the same here.”

“I will go to the other Speakers among the Nandor,” Laeglîr said, “and tell them of this, but I cannot guarantee that any will agree to participate.”

“Perhaps if you tell them that those who do not offer a voice on the matter cannot complain of the decisions made by others after the fact,” Finrod said. “They may be more willing to send delegates then.”

Laeglîr nodded. “You speak wisely, Finrod Felagund. I will tell you this: even if no other of the Nandor come to this council we are contemplating, I will be there. We of Garth Hallâd have already agreed that we can no longer afford to remain hidden and excluded from the doings of the rest of the island. Lord Araw has said as much and we will not gainsay that particular Balan.”

Olwë smiled at her. “We are glad that you have decided this, Laeglîr of Garth Hallâd. And please accept my sincerest apology on behalf of myself and the others for our inadvertent intrusion upon your sanctuary. I regret that our actions, innocent though they were, caused you and your people any distress.”

Laeglîr bowed her head to him. “I accept your apology on behalf of the people of Garth Hallâd. But tell me, last night I saw one in your party who is not present here. Where is Lord Glorendil?”

“You know Laurendil?” Finrod asked in surprise.

“He lived among us for a time,” Dairuin answered. “Last night there was no opportunity to greet him properly, but I had hoped to do so here.”

“His wife, Lady Manwen, recently conceived,” Arafinwë said, using that particular excuse to explain his absence. It was a plausible explanation and there were knowing nods among the Nandor.

“We rejoice that this is so,” Laeglîr said. “Please give them my congratulations.”

By now they had finished their meal and the rest of the afternoon was given over to singing and dancing and quiet conversations. Thus, it was early evening before the Amanians made their farewells. Plans were made for the kings to meet with the Avallónean city council the next morning to discuss trade agreements while the other members of their party would continue visiting the city. Laeglîr was invited to attend but declined, stating that she would be leaving in the morning to visit the other Nandorin communities to let them know what was being decided.

“It will take me some time to reach them all,” she said, “so it is best that I start now.”

“We will be leaving for Kortirion the day after tomorrow,” Olwë told Morcocáno and the other Avallónean nobles.

Thorongorn spoke then. “As it happens, I have business in Kortirion and had planned to leave in two days’ time myself. Perhaps I might join you?”

Olwë nodded. “We would be happy to have you with us, my lord.”

With that, the Amanians made their farewells. As they were heading back to Iithildor’s villa, Olwë commented to Arafinwë, “That went better than I expected.” He sounded very pleased.

Arafinwë nodded. “The Nandor’s appearance was a surprise, but a pleasant one. This Progress seems to be shaping up quite nicely in spite of some minor mishaps.” Olwë snorted as Arafinwë gave him a sly grin.

“Let us hope we do not encounter any major problems in Kortirion,” Olwë rejoined.

To that, everyone fervently agreed.

****

Naugrim: (Sindarin) Dwarves.

Balan: (Sindarin) Vala.





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