87: Preparing to Leave for Kortirion

They returned to Lord Ithildor’s estate to find it ablaze with lights though it was nearly midnight. At first there was some concern but when the gate guards greeted them joyfully with no sense of distress about them, they relaxed a bit. When they reached the front entrance they found several people waiting for them, including Thorongorn, who gave them a sorrowful look.

“I cannot believe what Morcocáno tried to do,” he said to them as they made their way into the house. He shook his head, giving them a grimace. “If I had known....”

“Do not concern yourself unduly,” Olwë told him. “I suspect that even Morcocáno did not know what he meant to do until he was doing it. At any rate, we have decided to leave for Kortirion tomorrow once we’ve seen our companions on the ship.”

Thorongorn nodded. “I made all the arrangements. Your people will need to be aboard soon after sunrise.”

“That will not be a problem,” Olwë assured him. “I know you meant to travel to Kortirion with us, but now that we’ve moved the time up....”

“I would still like to come,” Thorongorn said.

“Good,” Olwë replied with a smile. “Then we will be glad for your company.”

Faelivrin, who had been busy seeing that Marthchall and Gurthalion were being provided for, gave a snort of contempt as she joined them, having overheard their conversation. “Lord Morcocáno has always looked down on those of us who were once slaves,” she said. “Nelluin is not going to be pleased with her husband. She has never denied that she was enslaved or was forced to toil in the mines. When Lord Ithildor learns of this he will be most upset.”

“Why is that?” Finrod asked.

Faelivrin gave them a wry look. “Most of the people of Avallónë wanted nothing to do with us,” she explained. “Lord Ithildor was the only one who took pity on our plight and offered his protection.”

“Us?” Arafinwë enquired.

The chatelaine nodded. “Nearly a third of Lord Ithildor’s staff are former slaves.”

There were many raised eyebrows at that. “I was unaware that there were other slaves here on the island,” Marthchall said.

Faelivrin gave him a sympathetic look. “We were rather scattered among the populace, most of us eking out an existence on the charity of others. Lord Ithildor, for reasons he has never explained to us, went about gathering us in and giving us back our self-respect along with worthwhile employment.”

“I would like to meet this Lord Ithildor some day,” Arafinwë said and several others nodded.

Finrod turned to Gilvagor. “You know Lord Ithildor. What can you tell us about him?”

“If you mean, do I know why he has devoted much of his time in searching out and succoring former slaves,” Gilvagor replied with a wry grin, “I am afraid I do not know. Ithildor has ever been one to keep his thoughts to himself. I only know that he and Gil-galad had a falling out around the time that Lindon was being built. He sailed not long after. When I arrived, he somehow knew that I was on the ship and came to meet me, for we had been friends of a sort in Endórë. That surprised me, but I have come to admire him for his generosity and his compassion.”

“Then, when he returns from Númenor, perhaps you can arrange an introduction for us,” Olwë suggested and Gilvagor agreed.

Sador, meanwhile, was asking Eärnur about Alassiel.

“She’s well, Sador,” Eärnur assured him with a smile. “She woke around mid-afternoon and ate a good meal and now sleeps. She’ll be fine by morning.” Then the healer turned to Finrod, looking more grave.

“Lasgalad is awake,” he told him. “I cautioned Iorlas not to mention that you are here, but I think you need to speak to him. He is most upset to know that he is even here rather than in Lindon and when Manwen explained about taking him to Lórien he became very agitated. I had to give him something to calm him down.”

Finrod nodded. “Let me wash the dust of travel off me and I will see him.”

Fifteen minutes later, Finrod was at the door to Lasgalad’s room which he was sharing with Iorlas. Eärnur was there waiting for him, giving him a nod before going in. Finrod stood at the door where he could see Eärnur but not Lasgalad.

“Lasgalad, there is someone here to see you,” Eärnur said in halting Sindarin.

“Who?” came a querulous voice. “It’s rather late and I’m not in the mood. Tell whoever it is to go away and come back in the morning.”

Finrod couldn’t help smiling, remembering the way the ellon had been so long ago. He stepped into the room, shaking his head. “Now, Lasgalad, I’ve come all this way just to see you and I have no intention of waiting until you’re in a better mood to speak with you.”

Finrod watched as Lasgalad sat up, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with disbelief. “Yo-you’re dead!” he uttered. “Then, that means I’m dead!” He glanced back and forth between Finrod and Eärnur as if trying to confirm his own statement.

“No, Lasgalad,” Finrod assured him. “You are not dead. Nor am I.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to hold the ellon’s hand. Lasgalad cringed slightly but did not pull back altogether.

“I don’t understand,” he said weakly. “You died. They said you died.”

“And I did,” Finrod replied with a nod, “but that was a long time ago and I have been re-embodied once again by the grace of the Valar.”

“How long have you been... er... alive?” Lasgalad asked, still looking somewhat nonplused.

“For a little more than a century,” Finrod said equably. Then he changed the subject before the ellon could ask further questions. “I understand you are not happy about going to Lórien for further healing.”

Lasgalad scowled. “I’m not happy even being here,” he retorted. “I cannot believe that they just threw me on a ship without a by-your-leave and expected me to like it.”

“Would you have rather come here by way of Mandos instead?” Finrod asked softly and the other ellon gave him a startled look. Finrod nodded. “By ship or by grave, mellon nîn. Either way, you would have come here. Eärnur saved your life, but he is only a journeyman healer and you are not entirely out of the woods yet. In Lórien you will find full healing and in time you may return to Tol Eressëa to live.”

Lasgalad sighed, leaning back against the pillows propping him up. “I cannot believe Iorlas sacrificed his happiness for me in this way. How could he do something like that? I’m not worth it.”

“He did it out of love for you,” Finrod said gently. “He did it because he did not want you to be alone in your illness. He did it because he could not have lived with himself otherwise.” He paused and gave the ellon a considering look. “He will need your help to find happiness here. Do not belittle his sacrifice by refusing to go to Lórien or acting in a manner unbefitting one of my rangers.”

Lasgalad paled somewhat from the reprimand, biting his lips, but he nodded. “Yes, aran nîn,” he said softly.

Finrod patted his arm and gave him a warm smile. “You will be leaving in the morning. I will see you off.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Lasgalad asked.

“No,” Finrod said, shaking his head. “I have business in Kortirion, but do not fret. I now make my home in Lórien and will return there in another week or so. I will see you there. Iorlas has indicated that he would like to travel with me and see more of Tol Eressëa so he can tell you all about it when we see you again.”

Lasgalad nodded. “He told me he wasn’t going to accompany me to Lórien for that very reason and I guess it upset me more than I thought it would.”

“And understandably so,” Finrod replied, “but you will not be traveling alone nor with strangers. Lady Manwen, whom you’ve met, is Glorendil’s wife, in case you did not know, and they will be traveling with you.”

Lasgalad’s eyes brightened. “Glorendil!” he exclaimed. “I had heard rumors that he had married but after the war we did not see each other, for they traveled east into Eriador and my road took me north on patrols. It will be good to see Captain Glorendil again.”

“Good,” Finrod said, standing up. “He goes by Laurendil now, but he has not changed overmuch since last you saw him. Get some rest. We’ll be leaving for the port before sunrise.”

Lasgalad nodded and then impulsively grabbed Finrod’s hand, kissing it. “I am glad you are alive, aran nîn,” he said fervently.

Finrod patted the ellon’s hand and gave him a warm smile. “As am I,” he said. Then, nodding to Eärnur, he left.

****

Brethorn was waiting for him when he left Lasgalad’s room. “I must go,” he said, giving Finrod a warm embrace, “for I have deliveries to make in the morning. I will write and keep you informed as to what is happening in Avallónë,” he added, giving him a wry smile. “It will be an interesting time here for a while, I deem.”

“No doubt,” Finrod replied with his own smile. “It was good to see you again, mellon nîn. I hope it will not be another century before we see one another again.”

“And whose fault is that?” Brethorn rejoined with a sly grin, then he impulsively hugged the prince again. “I will come to Tirion perhaps with the New Year if not sooner, I promise.”

“I will hold you to that,” Finrod said and then the two parted.

****

Though they had had little rest in two days, Finrod, Glorfindel, Ingwion and the two kings did not bother to go to bed, but stayed up to talk until it was time to escort those who would be leaving by ship to the harbor. They sat in Lord Ithildor’s library sipping cordials. Glorfindel asked Ingwion if he could see his ring. Ingwion complied by taking it off and giving it to him.

“The first time I put it on,” he said, “it went dark just as it did in the square. Lord Námo was most upset, saying something about it wasn’t supposed to do that.” He went on to describe being surrounded by warrior Maiar while Lord Námo was having it out with the Elder King and Lord Aulë. The way he described it caused the others to laugh.

“It was really quite embarrassing,” Ingwion said with a rueful shake of his head. “The thought of having to make my obeisance to Lord Manwë in my nightshirt did not appeal to me at all.”

That set everyone laughing again.

“So, the ruby will go dark if there is danger about?” Glorfindel asked as he handed the ring back to Ingwion.

“Yes, though it will not protect me or anyone else from the danger. It only warns,” Ingwion explained. “I only wish I had noticed it going dark sooner than I did. We might have avoided the ambush altogether.”

“That you noticed at all and understood its significance is enough,” Olwë assured him. “We are grateful to the Valar that they sought to provide you with such a means of warning. It will stand you in good stead in the future I have no doubt.”

The three younger ellyn gave Olwë enquiring looks. “What do you mean, Anatar?” Finrod asked. “Do you think Ingwion will find himself in dangerous situations in the future and why him and not us?”

Olwë shrugged. “I have learned the hard way that the Valar do nothing without reason. If they gave Ingwion this particular ring with that particular ability to warn of danger, there must be a reason for it.” He gave Ingwion a measuring look and the ellon nodded.

“Lord Námo says that in time the Valar wish to make me their emissary to Tol Eressëa,” he admitted, though reluctantly.

The others gave him surprised looks. “Do they now?” Finrod said. “Well, well, well. Will wonders never cease.”

Ingwion gave his younger cousin a wry look. “Jealous?”

Finrod’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. “Jealous? Not at the least. I’m very glad that they have chosen you for this task. It means that most likely you and I will be working rather closely together, for as you know, I am charged with helping to bring healing to Aman and much of that healing is needed here on Tol Eressëa. I have a feeling that I will be spending a great deal of time here in the years to come.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ingwion said musingly and then he gave Finrod a warm smile. “It will be good to work with you again. I missed that.”

Finrod nodded. “I know.”

“Well, let’s move on to other topics,” Arafinwë suggested. “Do you think Ingwë will be amenable to the idea of hosting the council that we’ve been talking about?” he asked Ingwion.

“I think so,” the ellon replied. “Are you sending him a report about what has happened here since we left Tavrobel?”

“Yes,” Arafinwë replied. “I will give it to Laurendil who will see to it that someone will deliver it to your Atar. If you desire to send your own report, just let me know and I’ll include it in the diplomatic pouch along with everything else.”

“Thank you,” Ingwion said. “I will have something ready before we leave for the harbor.”

“Where do you think we can hold such a council that would be considered neutral territory?” Glorfindel asked. “Certainly not here on the island and I don’t think Tirion or Alqualondë would be acceptable to the Tol Eressëans.”

“True,” Arafinwë said, frowning slightly in thought. “Vanyamar might suit if Ingwë agrees, but again, some factions might object, fearing undue influence of the Amanians over the Tol Eressëans.”

“That doesn’t leave us with too many options,” Finrod replied with a grin. “Unless we ask the Valar....” He paused, his eyes darkening in thought. “Do we dare ask them though?” he said in a whisper, and the others had the sense that he was speaking more to himself than to them.

“It is a possibility,” Olwë said. “One that requires deep thought.”

“Assuming that we have a location agreeable to all parties,” Glorfindel said, “when do we hold the council? If we wait too long chances are no one will be interested in pursuing this.”

“You’re right, gwador,” Finrod said. “We should set a time for the council sooner rather than later, perhaps before we leave the island so we can send messengers to all parties. Would the winter solstice be soon enough?”

“I don’t think it should be any later,” Ingwion suggested and the others nodded.

“Then let us say the winter solstice at a place yet to be determined,” Arafinwë announced. “If people are told now that such a council will be held, I think there will be more interest than if we wait until we know for sure where it will be.”

“Well, we will discuss this more later,” Olwë said, glancing towards an embrasure where they could see the sky lightening with false dawn. “We had better get ourselves ready to depart. I do not intend to remain in Avallónë beyond an hour after we see our friends aboard the ship. I want to be on the way to Kortirion before most of the citizens are awake.”

They all agreed to that and rose to go their separate ways.

****

Faelivrin and the other members of Lord Ithildor’s staff were already up and a hot breakfast was prepared for them all.

“I regret that you feel you must depart in this manner, lords,” the chatelaine said as she supervised the servants handing out bowls of porridge and plates of scrambled eggs, “but I understand. I hope that we have given satisfaction in seeing to your needs.”

“You and your people have been excellent hosts, my dear,” Olwë said with a smile. “When Lord Ithildor returns he will hear no complaints from us as to your conduct. We thank you for your concern and attentiveness to our needs and we trust we did not prove too great a burden.”

“Oh no, lord,” Faelivrin exclaimed. “It was our pleasure to be of service.” She gave them a profound curtsey and then left to see to the loading of their baggage.

As soon as everyone was ready to depart, the Amanians bade the people of the estate a fond farewell and headed for the harbor. Sador rode close to Alassiel, who looked pale but otherwise insisted she was fine and able to ride. Finrod and Glorfindel exchanged knowing smiles at the way the younger ellon hovered over the elleth. Eärnur was giving Laurendil and Manwen further instructions concerning Lasgalad’s care while the ellon rode in a horse litter beside them, much to his disgust.

“You’re too weak still to sit up, never mind ride a horse,” Iorlas said to him, sounding somewhat exasperated. “Be grateful we don’t make you crawl all the way to the ship.”

Others, hearing this, started laughing. Lasgalad muttered something unintelligible while Iorlas merely smiled.

They reached the harbor in good time where Thorongorn met them and introduced them to Captain Celebaear of the Aearíen. She was a Sinda who greeted them with the demeanor of one used to command. “I’ll see that your friends arrive safely,” she assured them and soon the ship’s ropes were untied and she sailed smoothly out of the harbor, her blue sails lost in the glare of the rising sun.

When the ship was lost to sight, Olwë turned to the rest of the company. “Let us go,” he said quietly and without another word he urged his steed forward and even as Avallónë woke to a new day, the Amanians and their friends made their way out of the city and headed towards their final destination of the Progress — Kortirion.