113: Enquiry

Finrod woke to find himself back in his own pavilion. He blinked a few times, trying to remember why he was there. His last clear memory was....

"Vorondil!"

He struggled up only to find Laurendil pushing him back down.

"Laurendil... Vor...."

"Be easy, aranya," Laurendil said. "He still lives."

Finrod sighed with relief as he sank back into his pillow, closing his eyes for a moment or two. "Gurthalion. Is he...."

"He still sleeps," came the answer.

Finrod opened his eyes and gave his friend and liegeman a searching look. Laurendil’s eyes were dark hollows and his face looked gaunt. It was obvious to him that the ellon had not slept himself. He frowned, trying to put the pieces together. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"Four days," Laurendil answered with a slight quirk to his lips as he saw Finrod’s eyes widen in disbelief.

Finrod threw the coverlet off him and struggled out of bed. This time, Laurendil did not stop him but held out a robe which Finrod wrapped around himself in an absent-minded manner, more intent on getting additional information out of his friend.

"What happened? After I passed out, that is?" he demanded as he stepped over to the washstand where he poured some water into a bowl and splashed his face.

Laurendil sighed, sitting down in a chair next to the cot. "What didn’t happen? Calamírë and Vardamir were still working on Vorondil. He lost a lot of blood, Finrod, and even though they stopped the bleeding and all, his life still hangs in the balance."

Finrod grabbed a towel and dried himself off, turning to Laurendil, his expression stricken. "He’s dying?" he whispered.

Laurendil shook his head. "No, he is not," he replied firmly, almost, Finrod suspected, as if he needed assurance of the fact as well. "But... the blood loss was...." He gave Finrod a helpless shrug. "He will be a long time healing. Aldundil never leaves his side and Herendil and...."

"Herendil! He’s here?"

Laurendil nodded. "And Vandacalimë. They arrived early this morning. Lord Irmo sent one of his Maiar to them even while the healers were still working on Vorondil and no one knew if he would live or die."

Finrod sighed, shaking his head, as he hunted around for his clothes. "Do we even know why Gurthalion attacked Vorondil? I remember Marthchall saying it wasn’t the blood trance, but I did not learn why he thought that. It certainly looked like the blood trance to me."

"No one has explained anything yet," Laurendil said as he stood and found a tunic for Finrod while the prince was putting on his trews. "We were all waiting for you to wake up. Now that you have, I’ll let Lord Irmo know."

Finrod nodded absently as he tightened a belt around his waist. "I had better go see Vorondil and speak with Aldundil and his parents."

"On Lord Irmo’s orders, Vorondil was moved to another grove," Laurendil told him. "No one knows where, though. I spoke to Vardamir and he said that the ellon is holding his own. At the moment, other than the healers, only Aldundil and his parents are being allowed to be with him."

Finrod raised an eyebrow but otherwise did not protest. He suspected Lord Irmo had his reasons for his orders and would not dispute them... yet. "Where are the elflings?" he asked instead.

"With Lady Melian," Laurendil answered. "They were very upset to learn that Vorondil was injured. We’ve not told them how badly, only that he needs a lot of rest and they would not be able to see him immediately." He gave Finrod a mischievous grin. "They seemed less upset about you than about Vorondil."

"Well, naturally," Finrod said with a sniff. "Vorondil is their friend, whereas I am only their lord and master."

Laurendil chuckled. "I’ll go find Lord Irmo. Why don’t you check on Gurthalion? Marthchall and Eärnur should be with him. It is my understanding that there will be an enquiry as to just what happened. Something about it all doesn’t make too much sense. Both Marthchall and Eärnur are looking very guilty, as if they had something to do with the attack."

Finrod sighed, running fingers through his silver-gold hair. "An enquiry sounds ominous, but I am as curious as any to know what really happened."

"We’ll sort it all out, Finrod," Laurendil said firmly. "Oh, before you head off, I was instructed to tell you that you should eat something first." He pointed to where a covered tray sat on Finrod’s writing desk. "You depleted a lot of energy yourself, according to Lord Irmo, and this time you did not have the help of any of the Valar. Last thing I need right now is for you to keel over from hunger, so please eat."

Finrod smiled, going over to the desk and lifting the cover from the tray to find a plate of fresh bread, fruit and cheese. There was also a small decanter of wine. Only when he saw the food did he suddenly realize how famished he was and promptly sat down, tearing a hunk of the bread and stuffing it into his mouth. "I promise I’ll eat every bite," he said between mouthfuls.

Laurendil nodded and left.

****

Once he finished with his repast, and feeling more himself, Finrod strode out of his grove and headed down the sward to where Gurthalion and Marthchall were staying. He was unsurprised to find a Maia standing guard at the grove’s entrance.

"Ingil."

The Maia smiled at Finrod. "I am glad to see you have finally awakened. How are you feeling?" Ingil asked solicitously.

"I am well, thank you," Finrod replied. "Laurendil’s gone to find Lord Irmo and I thought to check on Gurthalion and see how he’s faring. Has he woken yet?"

Ingil shook his head. "No. The healers, however, are unconcerned. They believe he will wake in his own good time."

Finrod nodded. "As I did," he said with a smile. "Any news about Vorondil?"

"He is still among the living, Findaráto," the Maia said gently. "Beyond that, I know no more about it than you."

"I would like to see him."

"You will need to discuss that with Lord Irmo," Ingil replied. "I am sure he will allow it, all things considered. In the meantime, I assume you wish to enter?"

Finrod laughed lightly. "You assumed correctly. While I’m visiting here, could you ask my aunt when it would be convenient for me to see the elflings so I may assure them of my continuing good health?"

Ingil smiled and his eyes unfocused for a brief moment before becoming more present. "Melian says that lunchtime would be as good a time as any. She will have everything prepared. You need only come to her grove at noon."

"Thank you, and please relay my thanks to Lady Melian. I’ll go see Gurthalion now."

Ingil bowed and stepped aside to let him pass. Inside the grove he saw a two-person pavilion and when he entered it he could see Gurthalion lying motionless on one of the two cots. Marthchall was sitting in a chair next to him, his eyes opened but unfocused and Finrod suspected the ellon was sleeping. He didn’t see Eärnur. Stepping softly beside the cot, he leaned down to gently brush a hand through Gurthalion’s hair.

"Gurthalion," he whispered. "Time to wake up." As softly as he spoke there was yet a tone of command to it. Finrod vaguely noticed Marthchall blinking, apparently waking, but his entire focus was on Gurthalion. "Wake up, Gurthalion. It’s time to leave your dark dreams and turn to the light."

For a moment or two, nothing happened as Finrod continued stroking the ellon’s hair, silently calling to Gurthalion’s fëa. Marthchall leaned forward as if to get a better view and inhaled sharply when Gurthalion’s eyes blinked open.

"That’s it," Finrod said encouragingly. "Time to wake up. All is well and you are safe. No more darkness. No more nightmares."

Gurthalion blinked some more and then focused his eyes on Finrod. "You... you were there... in my... you saved me...."

"You saved yourself," Finrod said with a smile. "I just gave you a reason to do so."

"What happened, Gurthalion?" Marthchall asked. "Why did you do it?"

"What did I do?" Gurthalion whispered, his expression one of confusion mixed with fear. "Did... did I hurt someone?" He looked back and forth between Marthchall and Finrod.

"Yes, Gurthalion," Finrod said, sighing heavily. "You attacked one of the apprentices. He was seriously wounded but he still lives." He forbore telling the ellon that the apprentice was an elfling. Gurthalion was feeling bad enough as it was. Still, he needed to face what happened — all of it.

Gurthalion sighed and closed his eyes. "I’m sorry. I... I think it would have been better if I had never survived slavery."

"No, mellon nîn," Marthchall exclaimed. "Don’t ever say that. I don’t know what I would have done without you."

Gurthalion opened his eyes and gave Marthchall a puzzled look. "Without me? I think you would have done well enough."

But Marthchall only shook his head, taking Gurthalion’s hand in his and pressing it to his forehead. "You are the reason I attempted our escape," he said softly. "If not for you, I would not have bothered."

Gurthalion just stared at his friend and mentor, and Finrod was not sure if the ellon was shocked or pleased by Marthchall’s words.

"Where’s Eärnur?" he asked suddenly. "I was told he would be here."

Marthchall lowered Gurthalion’s hand and gave Finrod a frown. "He was here. I guess he needed to leave for some reason."

"Well, he is a Lóriennildo," Finrod pointed out. "He must have other duties."

There was a stir and Ingil was suddenly there. He gave them all a brief bow. "Lord Irmo is convening a board of enquiry. I’ve been instructed to escort you to him when you are ready."

Gurthalion cowered under the coverlet. "Please. Do I have to go? They’ll hurt me."

"No one is going to hurt you, Gurthalion," Finrod assured him. "I will make sure of that. Come. Let’s get you dressed and I think you should have something to eat as well. You’ve been sleeping for four days and you must be famished."

"Lord Irmo said as much," Ingil told them. "I sent Eärnur to get some food for Gurthalion. Ah. Here he is. When Gurthalion is ready, I will escort you." He bowed again and left.

Eärnur, carrying a tray of food, walked into the pavilion and seeing Finrod smiled. "I am glad you are finally awake," he said as he put the tray down and gave Finrod a hug.

"So am I," Finrod said, hugging his friend back. "You know about the enquiry?"

"Yes, so as soon as we get Gurthalion dressed and fed we should be on our way."

****

It was a half an hour before they were ready. Gurthalion was most reluctant, understandably, but Finrod was able to convince him that no one was angry at him and no one would punish him. "We just want to find out what happened so we can prevent it from happening again."

Ingil escorted them down the sward and around the lake to a more remote part of Lórien, one rarely visited by any of the elves. They were led into a grove where a pavilion was set up, three sides rolled up. There was a table behind which sat Lord Irmo and Lady Estë as well as two Master Healers. Several chairs were arranged before the table and when they came inside the pavilion, Lord Irmo gestured for them to take seats after they gave him and Lady Estë their obeisance. Laurendil was already there and he smiled warmly at them as they sat but no one spoke. Almost at the same time, another group of people came into the grove. Finrod saw that they were Aldundil and his parents, along with Calamírë and Vardamir. He smiled at the sight of his friend, Herendil, and started to speak, but there was something forbidding about the expressions on everyone’s faces and Herendil refused to look at Finrod, which hurt him.

When everyone was seated, Lord Irmo spoke, his tone and mien formal and solemn. "This is an informal enquiry into events of four days ago in which one of our charges attacked one of our apprentices, sorely wounding him. With me and Lady Estë to help ascertain what happened are Masters Meneldil and Telperiën."

Telperiën was a Noldo and Finrod recalled meeting her once when he had been in Lórien as a newly released Reborn. She sat on Lady Estë’s right while Meneldil sat on Lord Irmo’s left. The Vala continued. "Before we begin our questions, I want to assure all of you that Vorondil will recover, though it will be a slow recovery. I wish to commend Masters Calamírë and Vardamir for their quick responses to the crisis. I also wish to commend Prince Findaráto for again extending himself beyond what would reasonably be expected of any of the Children at this stage in their development."

Finrod blushed slightly and refused to look at anyone. He wasn’t sure he deserved any praise. He was still puzzled by how he was able to do what he did and resisted a sigh. He couldn’t help noticing, though, the dark look from Herendil that was cast his way. He hoped this incident had not damaged their friendship beyond repair, a friendship Finrod valued very highly. He put such thoughts away as Lady Estë began speaking.

"Because Gurthalion is more comfortable with Sindarin than with Quenya, Ingil will act as his translator. This will necessarily slow the proceedings somewhat, but we want to make sure that there is no misunderstanding as to what is being said. Journeyman Eärnur, we will begin with you. Tell us what you know about the events of four days ago."

Eärnur gulped and went pale, but he stood and, after giving the Valar and the two Masters a respectful bow, he spoke. "I have been charged with helping Gurthalion overcome his nightmares," he said. "In consultation with the Masters who are overseeing his treatment I tried an experiment. I put Gurthalion in a light trance to relax him and guided him through a memory of when he was a slave."

"Why?" Finrod asked, his expression one of bafflement. He knew he was out of order, but Lord Irmo did not reprimand him.

"We were hoping that by facing his memories in a nonthreatening environment he would be able to deal with them better," Eärnur explained, turning to Finrod.

"So what happened?" Finrod asked. "Why did Marthchall say he wasn’t in a blood trance? He certainly was acting as if he were."

"We ended the session after only a few minutes," Eärnur replied. "The memory turned out to be too powerful for him to face all at once, so I eased him out of it and told him to rest, to sleep and then awaken refreshed." Eärnur shook his head. "I don’t know what happened exactly or what set him off. Marthchall and I were talking in another part of the grove so as not to disturb him. All of a sudden we heard a scream and when we looked, Gurthalion was gone. We rushed outside the grove in time to see him running after Vorondil with the knife. I don’t even know where he got the knife."

"Describe for us the steps you took in placing Gurthalion in the trance and then the steps you took to bring him out of it," Telperiën said, her tone neutral and her expression unreadable.

Eärnur nodded and began to explain what he had done. Both Masters stopped him a few times, asking pointed questions and once making him go over part of his procedure in minute detail. When they were through with the interrogation, the two Masters quietly consulted with Lord Irmo and Lady Estë. Eärnur sat, looking pale, licking dry lips. Finrod reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him an encouraging smile. He was no expert, but he did not think Eärnur had done anything that could be construed as negligence on his part. He knew his friend to be very careful about his work.

Finally, finished with their consultation, Meneldil spoke. "Journeyman Eärnur appears to have followed the procedure for putting someone into a trance and bringing them out of it faithfully."

"But it does not explain why Gurthalion did what he did," Aldundil protested angrily. "Why did he attack my son? There was no provocation."

"Peace, Aldundil," Lord Irmo said. "That is what we are trying to determine."

"I think he was still in the trance that Eärnur put him under," Marthchall said suddenly and all eyes turned to him and he swallowed noisily, paling under everyone’s regard.

"Yet, we just said that Eärnur correctly brought him out of it," Telperiën replied. "What evidence do you have to the contrary?"

"None, really," Marthchall answered with a shrug. "All I can say is that my heart tells me that Gurthalion was still in that trance, that he did not see us or Lórien, but that he was trapped in the memory Eärnur and I were helping him to recall. He didn’t attack the apprentice, he attacked an orc."

"So how does this differ from the blood trance that we’ve seen?" Meneldil asked, unconsciously rubbing his shoulder where Laurendil had cut him.

Lord Irmo answered. "Technically, there is no difference. In both cases the person affected is lost in a memory. However, the blood trance appears to be something that only warriors suffer. Gurthalion, as far as I know, was never a warrior."

Gurthalion shook his head, but did not otherwise speak. Irmo nodded, giving him a smile. "In the blood trance the only way to release the victim from it is to offer him the blood of the person he is attacking. In Gurthalion’s case, however, it seems that was unnecessary." He turned his attention to Finrod.

"Perhaps we should hear what you have to say, Prince Findaráto, before we question Gurthalion as to what he remembers."

Finrod gave Gurthalion a friendly pat on his thigh before standing. "I still do not understand how I do what I do," he began, "but this is what I experienced." He then went on to describe following Gurthalion’s fëa to the cave and what transpired there. Everyone stared at Gurthalion as Finrod spoke, their expressions ranging from pity to disbelief. Gurthalion squirmed slightly in his seat and refused to look at anyone, his face flooded with shame. Finrod finished his narrative and sat down.

There was silence for several minutes as everyone attempted to digest the prince’s words. Irmo had a thoughtful expression on his face as he glanced at Gurthalion, still sitting there with his eyes downcast. "What do you remember, Gurthalion?" he asked, speaking Sindarin. Ingil automatically translated the question into Quenya.

Gurthalion just sat there, not looking up, refusing to speak. Marthchall leaned over and put his arm around the ellon’s shoulders and whispered something in his ear. Gurthalion nodded and when Marthchall released him he slowly stood up, still refusing to look at anyone.

"I was afraid," he whispered. "I... I did not want to remember my nightmares, but Marthchall said it would help and he would not let anything bad happen to me. Eärnur promised that if it became too intense he would bring me out of it immediately. So, I allowed him to put me in the trance."

"Do you have any memory of the session itself?" Meneldil asked.

Gurthalion shook his head. "I... I’m not sure. I remember only vague images, dark and threatening, and feeling upset. I could hear Eärnur speaking to me though I don’t recall what he said. I just know that I stopped feeling upset and began feeling calm and peaceful. I think I fell asleep."

"That sounds consonant with what others have experienced under similar circumstances," Telperiën said. "Yet, something apparently went wrong. Do you remember what happened next?"

"No," Gurthalion replied, shaking his head, and then hesitated, a frown marring his features. "Except...."

"Except what?" Estë asked gently.

For the first time, Gurthalion raised his head and looked directly at the Valië, his expression now bleak. "I remember wanting to kill."

There were sharp intakes of breath but no one ventured to say anything at first.

"Go on," Estë said with an encouraging nod. "What else?"

Gurthalion took a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly. "I... failed... so I... I was punished."

"The cave," Irmo said and the ellon nodded.

"Whom were you wanting to kill?" Meneldil asked, leaning slightly forward, clearly intrigued.

Gurthalion frowned. "The orc. I wanted to kill the orc, but I couldn’t so I was punished." Then he gave them a bemused look. "But I did kill him in the end, didn’t I? And... and Prince Finrod helped me." He gave Finrod a shy smile and the prince smiled back.

"Thank you, Gurthalion," Irmo said. "You may sit." As the ellon complied, Irmo quietly consulted with the others at the table. Everyone else remained silent. Finally, after several minutes, the consultation broke up and Irmo addressed them again. "I think it is clear that somehow Gurthalion’s subconscious was at play here. Even though Eärnur successfully brought him out of the trance, some trace of the original suggestion remained lodged in Gurthalion’s mind. When he fell asleep that part of him that is usually inaccessible to the waking mind took over and decided to kill the orc that had been tormenting him. Thus the attack."

"But why Vorondil?" Aldundil exclaimed in distress. "Why my son?"

"It could well have been anyone, Aldundil," Estë replied. "Your son was going about his duties of supplying fresh linen to various pavilions. He was coming into Gurthalion and Marthchall’s grove when he was attacked. It was just unfortunate...."

"Unfortunate?" Herendil cried, leaping up, his face suffused with anger. "Unfortunate! My grandson was almost murdered and you call it unfortunate?"

"Peace, Heren...." Irmo started to say but the ellon cut him off.

"Vorondil would never have been wounded at all if it hadn’t been for him." He turned and pointed directly at Finrod, nearly screaming. "He’s the one to blame for all this and I will never forgive him. Never!"

Finrod could only stare at his long-time friend in silent shock while pandemonium broke out all around him.