102: The Meaning of ‘Quest’

Glorfindel stood on the beach looking out upon the cove and the Sea beyond. He unconsciously flexed the fingers of his right hand and rotated his shoulder in a series of exercises as he stared upon the constantly moving water in deep contemplation. As the Maia had promised, he was completely healed after a week, a week of reacquainting himself with old friends from Gondolin and making new ones from those of Doriath. Nearly half the population of the cove, which was called Aewellond for the many birds there, were former warriors of the two kingdoms. The rest of the people were farmers and shepherds and artisans who provided the community with the necessaries of life. There were perhaps a hundred people living there, including a handful of elflings. Eärendil assured Glorfindel that the cove and the land surrounding it could easily support thrice that many.

"More will come eventually," Eärendil had told him with much confidence, "but for the moment we are doing well with what we have."

Glorfindel sensed someone behind him, stopping several feet away as if afraid to intrude on his privacy. He was tempted to just ignore whoever it was, but in the end, without taking his eyes off the water, he simply said, "It’s all right. You may approach."

He was somewhat surprised when Lady Elwing came to stand beside him. He turned to her and gave her a graceful bow, which she acknowledged with a smile before turning her attention to the Sea.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she asked.

"If you like water," Glorfindel replied with a wry grin.

Elwing’s laugh was light and gay and Glorfindel found himself grinning more broadly. When she was calmer, her mien became more sober. "How are you faring, Glorfindel?" she asked solicitously.

"I am faring well, lady. My shoulder is healed as are my ribs. With the exercises I am doing, I will have full range of motion in my right arm in another week."

"I am glad to hear that," she said with a nod, "but in truth, your physical state does not concern me at the moment. How do you fare here?" She placed a finger delicately on his chest. "How does your heart fare?"

Glorfindel stared into Elwing’s eyes and there was something in them that seemed familiar and disturbing at the same time. It took him a moment to realize he had seen that same light in the eyes of his Maiarin friends and belatedly remembered who this elleth’s great-grandmother was. He had to force himself to look away before he could speak. He turned back to the ever restless Sea, a restlessness that seemed to mirror his own soul.

"I feel restless," he said without thinking and then blushed, giving Elwing a chagrined look. "Sorry, that’s not what I meant to say."

"What did you mean to say?"

He shrugged. "Please do not mistake me," he replied. "This past week has been wonderful. Meeting with old friends I thought I had lost and finding new ones." He paused and gave her a meaningful smile and Elwing blushed a bit.

"But...." she said, giving him her own meaningful look.

Glorfindel nodded. "There’s always a ‘but’, isn’t there?" he said with a rueful look. "There is something missing, something I am not seeing or understanding, something that says this is not all there is, at least for me." He gave a sweep of his hand to include the cove and the valley behind it.

For a moment Elwing said nothing, merely gazing across Aewellond, her home for more than five hundred years. Then she gestured to the wharf where Vingilot was moored. The Silmaril was not in its lantern, but safely stored away until Eärendil would sail again. "Let’s sit, shall we?" she said and made her way to the wharf, climbing the gangplank and boarding the ship. Glorfindel reluctantly followed her. Elwing primly lifted her skirts to sit on a barrel, which made Glorfindel raise an eyebrow in amusement even as he sat on his own barrel. Elwing just smiled.

"I used to sit on this very barrel and sing while Eärendil, Aerandir, Falathir and Erellont scurried about doing whatever it is sailors do." She had a sudden wistful look on her face.

"What did you sing?" Glorfindel asked gently.

"Oh, lullabies mostly," she answered with a shy smile. "I would sit and wonder about my babies, wonder what their fate was. Singing the lullabies...." she gave him a shrug. "It was the closest I could ever be to them."

"I am sorry," Glorfindel said solicitously. "It must have been a difficult thing for you, choosing between your sons and the Silmaril."

Elwing shook her head. "There was no choice, Glorfindel." She gave him a fierce glare and he could sense not only the anger but the hatred she held for the sons of Fëanor. "The Fëanorians murdered my entire family," she hissed and the pain in her voice was clearly evident. "I had no reason to believe that they would spare me or my children even if I had willingly given them the Silmaril. My family, my adar’s entire kingdom, was destroyed because of them. To have given them the Silmaril would have dishonored their memory, and more. When I leapt, I leapt to my death and gladly, though I mourned for my sweet innocent babes. Yet, in that instant, I held to the comfort that if we all died we would at least be together afterwards. My one true regret was that my husband and the adar of my children would return to find us gone."

She paused and took a deep breath. Glorfindel remained silent, not wishing to end the spell her words were weaving. Elwing gazed up at the main mast where the Silmaril’s lantern hung. It was a beautiful lattice framework of mithril with diamond panels. Inside, there was a three-pronged stand, also of mithril, on which the Silmaril would be placed.

"I never expected to be turned into a bird," she said, almost as if speaking to herself. She looked at Glorfindel and there was an impish smile on her face. "When I found Vingilot and landed on the deck, Eärendil succored me, not knowing who I was. Then we both slept and when we woke I was in my true form...." She suddenly laughed. "You should have seen the expression on Eärendil’s face. It was priceless."

Glorfindel smiled back, glad that the dark mood of her words had lifted somewhat. When she calmed down, she continued. "Well, after that, there was no point in going back to Beleriand, so we set our course to the West. Eärendil was sure that the Silmaril would be our guide to Valinor, and of course, he was correct."

"Lindarion told me something of your arrival," Glorfindel said, giving her a sly smile. "He said your Quenya was barely intelligible."

Elwing laughed again. "Oh, it was absolutely wretched, I assure you."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Elwing replied with a surprised look. "Whatever you wish."

"Why here?"

For a moment Elwing did not answer, as if giving his question serious thought. "For Eärendil’s sake," she finally said. At Glorfindel’s bemused expression, she went on. "You probably don’t realize how very shy he is. He has never really felt comfortable around people, even those whom he knows well, given his status."

"You mean as the Mariner of Vingilot and bearer of the Silmaril," Glorfindel said and Elwing nodded.

"He told me how he hated people staring at him, whispering behind his back."

"What people?" Glorfindel asked, clearly confused. "Certainly not Galdor or...."

"Oh, no!" Elwing assured him. "When we were still residing in Alqualondë and then later in Valmar while Vingilot was being readied. To tell you the truth, we both felt uncomfortable and I think it is because even though we were now counted among the Eldar, still our Mortal heritage was plain for all to see."

"And none of the elves here had ever seen a Mortal," Glorfindel said, nodding in understanding.

Elwing nodded as well. "Yes. We were an oddity to them. Oh, they were unfailingly polite...."

"You mean, too polite, daughter of Dior."

The two elves looked up at the sudden appearance of Mánatamir smiling at them both.

Elwing laughed. "Care to join us, my lord? I believe there’s another barrel around here somewhere."

"Here," Glorfindel jumped up, "you can have mine. I’ll sit on the deck."

"Oh, nonsense," the Maia said with mild exasperation. "I’m perfectly fine where I am."

"Eavesdropping, my lord?" Glorfindel couldn’t help asking as he resumed his seat.

Mánatamir raised an eyebrow. "A Maia never eavesdrops," he protested with a supercilious sniff, "but it’s not our fault if you Children are loud in your thoughts and voices."

"Hah! A likely story," Glorfindel remarked in feigned disbelief and Elwing held a hand to her mouth as she giggled.

Mánatamir smiled. "Seriously, I came to tell you that I must leave today," he said, "and I couldn’t help overhearing the last bit of your conversation."

Elwing gave a cry of dismay. "So soon! And you have only been here for a week. I had hoped you would be staying longer this time."

"So had I," the Maia replied, "but unfortunately, Glorfindel has caused some problems... as usual." His tone was more amused than exasperated.

"What do you mean?" Glorfindel cried, rising and facing the Maia, his eyes blazing with anger, unconsciously going for a sword that was not hanging on his belt. "I haven’t done anything...."

Mánatamir raised a hand. "Peace, child. That is not what I meant."

"What did you mean, lord?" Elwing asked in a reasonable tone, perhaps hoping to divert Glorfindel’s ire, though the ellon remained standing, glaring at Mánatamir, his expression now one of hurt and confusion at the accusation.

The Maia sighed and gave them a rueful look. "Forgive me. That came out wrong. Please, Glorfindel, sit and I will explain." It took a few seconds for Glorfindel to comply and then Mánatamir spoke again. "Your going to Alqualondë set off a chain of unforeseen events."

Glorfindel gave the Maia a bemused look. "I don’t understand."

"No, of course you don’t," Mánatamir said gently. "Do you know that you are the first of the Exiles to ever return to Alqualondë? Not even Finrod has been there yet for all that he has been re-embodied for over a century now."

"Is that significant?" Elwing asked, looking as confused as Glorfindel at the Maia’s words.

Mánatamir nodded. "The Noldor who returned with Arafinwë passed by Alqualondë and some few helped with salvaging what could be salvaged after the Kinslaying, but they did not stay long and they were not entirely welcomed. When the Valar called for the Host of the West to be formed, Olwë volunteered his ships to transport everyone, but he brought the ships down the coast to the Calacirya. He refused to allow any of the Noldor near his city. Oh, Arafinwë had been there a time or two with Eärwen but that was as family, nothing more. That Olwë permitted you to enter his city was... well, a rather momentous moment in the history of Aman, though I doubt anyone was really aware of it except the Valar and possibly Arafinwë and Ingwion."

"I suppose," Glorfindel said, still bemused. "Yet, why did you say I had caused problems? I didn’t even get Beleg in trouble. In fact, I never saw any of the city because of the wretched storm that kept us inside for nearly a week."

"You do not have to cause trouble to be trouble, Glorfindel," Mánatamir said with a grin. "You just have to be."

"That’s unfair!" Glorfindel shouted, leaping up from the barrel. "I’m not...."

"Child," Mánatamir said gently, taking Glorfindel by the shoulders and giving him a little shake. "I was speaking in generalities. Anyone can be the source of trouble even if they are not actively causing it. They just have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, or the right place at the right time, depending on your point of view." He paused and gave the ellon a significant stare and Glorfindel wilted a bit under his implacable regard. "When you left on your quest, many of the Teleri recalled when Eärendil and Elwing dwelt with them for a time. They were reminded of certain things and some of the younger elves who were born after the War of Wrath have decided that they would like to find the Mariner and see Vingilot and the Silmaril for themselves."

"How young?" Glorfindel asked with rising suspicion.

Mánatamir smiled. "Most of them are elflings about Vorondil’s age or just past their majority but there are a few Reborn who are involved as well."

"Beleg," Glorfindel muttered. "He promised me he would be good and not cause trouble."

Now Mánatamir chuckled. "Oh, Beleg is not to blame and he is being as good as he can be. You have no need to be angry at him. There are other Reborn living in Alqualondë who were recently released. At any rate, a small group of these children have managed to commandeer a ship and have set sail for the North in search of Aewellond, though they have no idea how far they must go or what dangers lie ahead."

"And you must make sure they do not find us," Elwing said with a knowing smile and the Maia nodded.

"Why aren’t their parents going after them?" Glorfindel asked. "And just how do elflings manage to commandeer a ship without anyone being the wiser?"

"Ah... well, as to that, let us just say that they had a little help," Mánatamir said with a sly grin.

Now both elves looked nonplused at that admission. "The Maiar are helping them?" Glorfindel asked in disbelief. "But why?"

"It was decided to make these children an example to any others who might entertain similar thoughts about coming here when they are not invited," the Maia said and his expression was more solemn. "Oh, fear not! No real harm will come to them, but they will be lessoned and so will others. It has been some years since any but those called here have tried to find Aewellond. As I said, your presence in Alqualondë and the purpose of your being there sparked some heated conversations among the citizens and I am afraid the youngsters decided they, too, wanted to have an adventure."

Glorfindel shook his head in disbelief. "Even when I’m not doing anything bad I seem to cause trouble. When will it end so I can just get on with my life?"

Both Mánatamir and Elwing gave him sympathetic looks. The Maia hugged the ellon warmly, trying to comfort him. "Do not blame yourself, child," he said. "What others do or do not do is their affair and none of yours. You just continue being yourself. To be otherwise is to dishonor the person you are and the person Eru made you to be. These youngsters have heard about your quest and have decided to go on one of their own, not realizing that a quest is not the same thing as an adventure."

"Oh?" Glorfindel enquired. "How so?"

Mánatamir gave him a searching look and Glorfindel found it difficult to maintain eye contact. "I have sensed the restlessness within you, Glorfindel," the Maia finally said after a moment or two.

"We were speaking of the very thing earlier," Elwing interjected. "Glorfindel said he felt something was missing or he was not seeing or understanding something. He never got a chance to explain what he meant as we became sidetracked with me reminiscing." She gave them a bashful look.

"It’s true," Glorfindel responded with a nod, giving her an understanding smile. "I was wondering if Aewellond was all there was for me."

Mánatamir nodded. "And there lies the difference between a quest and an adventure." When the two elves still looked confused he smiled. "Look at it this way. An adventure is a there-and-back-again journey. Your visit to Tol Eressëa, for instance, would be labeled thus. You went to the island, encountered some adventures and then returned to Aman. People will ask you about it and you will tell them all that you did and saw and they will ooh and ahh over your story, but neither they nor you will be radically transformed by your adventure on Tol Eressëa."

"I guess," Glorfindel averred with a shrug.

"On the other hand, a quest is not an adventure, though there may be adventures along the way," Mánatamir continued. "A quest is more a way of life, a calling, if you will, and usually one does not choose one’s calling, it chooses you. It is, in fact, an errand in the oldest sense of the word, a mission, if you will."

"And what is my mission?" Glorfindel asked, not entirely convinced by the Maia’s words.

"I do not know," Mánatamir answered. "That is something that you must learn on your own or others may tell you in due time."

"You mean the Valar," Glorfindel countered.

Mánatamir nodded. "Perhaps, or it may be someone else entirely. One thing is certain: unlike a normal journey where one is usually confident as to one’s goal, there are no such guarantees with a quest. Few indeed can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end. Thus, the destination is not quite as important as how one travels along the way."

Glorfindel pondered these words for a time before speaking. "So what do I do in the meantime?"

"Coming here, I deem, was just the first step along the road. You came here seeking answers. Did you find them?"

"Some, but not all and certainly not the most important ones," Glorfindel averred. "For instance, I thought that when I finally met Eärendil I would be able to see the Star, but I still cannot and I do not understand why."

"But child, why do you even need to see the Star when you stand on the very deck of Vingilot itself and have seen the Silmaril shining from its mast?" Mánatamir enquired. "You have traveled on this ship further than any mirroanwi, even Eärendil, for you traveled to the very gates of the Timeless Halls themselves from what I have been told. ‘Gil-Estel’ the Children name Eärendil’s Star, but you have spoken to the very One who is the true Star of High Hope for us all."

"Then you’re saying I will never see Eärendil’s Star?" Glorfindel implored.

"I did not say that," Mánatamir replied. "I am saying that you do not need to see the Star, for it’s light lies within you. It always has."

Glorfindel sighed. "I cannot stay here," he said. "I do not know where I am to go next though for my answers."

"Abide here for a time," Elwing suggested. "You have only just come and we have awaited your coming for many years, especially Eärendil and all your friends from Gondolin. Surely you do not need to leave now, not with winter coming?"

"Elwing is correct, Glorfindel," the Maia said. "Abide here for a time. Continue your training with my brothers who are very eager to pound you into the ground once you are fully healed, and I will tell you that Manveru especially was very wroth with me for letting you get injured."

"Oh?" Glorfindel said, grinning in spite of himself. "And what did my sword-brother do to you?"

"You really do not want to know the answer to that question, trust me," Mánatamir replied, looking suddenly embarrassed.

Glorfindel laughed. "Well, in that case, I will do just that, and I did promise Eärendil and Galdor and the others that I would help them in their own training."

"Good," Elwing said, clapping her hands in delight, "that’s settled. I know my lord husband would be very despondent at the thought that you wished to leave so soon after arriving."

"Still, when I do finally leave, where will I go?" Glorfindel asked, his light mood dissipating. "Where will I find the answers to my questions?"

"Perhaps they will find you when you are ready for them," Mánatamir suggested. "As for where you will go, why to Tirion, of course. You do have a wedding to attend, don’t you? And did you not tell Finrod you would be bringing guests?" He gave the ellon a significant look.

"And won’t he be surprised who shows up?" Glorfindel couldn’t help saying with a grin and Elwing giggled.

"Exactly!" the Maia exclaimed with his own smile. "Well, I must go hunt up Ossë and see what we can come up with to show one shipload of not-too-bright youngsters the error of their ways."

"You won’t really hurt them, though, will you?" Elwing asked, giving the Maia a concerned look.

"Nay, child, we will not, but we will give them a good scare," Mánatamir replied. "It will be a long time before any of them will wish to venture beyond the Haven again once Ossë and I are through with them. Look after Cundu for me while I am gone?"

"But of course," Elwing said. "You know we love having him with us and I promise we won’t spoil him too much while you are away."

"Hah! As if he’s not spoiled already," Mánatamir retorted, giving them both a fond smile as he faded from their sight.

For a long moment only the sound of the surf and the screeching of gulls could be heard and then Elwing gave Glorfindel a grin. "Well, I do not know about you, but all that talking has given me an appetite. Why don’t we go in quest of lunch?"

Glorfindel laughed at her play on words and offered her his hand as they made their way down the gangplank and headed back to the Tower.

****

Aewellond: (Sindarin) Haven of Birds.

Maiarin: Adjectival form of Maiar. Cf. Sindarin, Noldorin, Vanyarin, etc.

Author’s Note: The discussion on the meaning of a quest was inspired by the following quote:

‘A quest is thus a vocation — an errand in the medieval sense, and its outcome entails something immensely larger and more important than one’s own happiness.... Legolas the elf declares the truth which serves almost as the motto of Tolkien’s epic: "Few can foresee whither their road will lead them, till they come to its end." The question — and thus the quest — concerns how we shall travel the one Road, how we shall complete our quest.’ — Ralph C. Wood, ‘Frodo’s Faith’, The Christian Century, September 6, 2003, pp. 21-23.