Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

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

119: A Gathering of Delegates

Summer became Autumn and the Middle Days were celebrated with feasts of thanksgiving for the harvest throughout Eldamar. Word came from Councillor Dúlinn to Arafinwë as Narquelië became Hísimë that a total of eighteen separate delegations had been decided upon.

"There will only be twelve guilds at the council," he read to Eärwen, Sador, Gilvagor and Haldir as they sat in his study. "It appears that some of the minor guilds have decided to join with the larger guilds with whom they are most associated."

"That certainly makes sense," Eärwen said with an approving nod.

"Ah... most interesting," Arafinwë exclaimed as he read further into the missive. "It seems that some of the farming communities have decided they do not want any of the three cities representing them, but instead of sending their own delegates as a group, they’ve joined with the miners of Angobel to form a single block."

Several eyebrows went up. "That is most interesting indeed," Gilvagor said, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "I wonder which farming communities went to Meluiwen with the proposal and did they go separately or as a group?"

"I’m surprised that the miners agreed to it," Sador said, "considering the way everyone seems to treat them."

"Yet, the fact that certain farming communities felt the need to do so suggests that these people felt that they, like the miners, were not being fairly treated by the cities and did not trust the cities to represent their interests fairly," Haldir interjected.

"But why go to Angobel?" Eärwen asked. "Does Dúlinn give an explanation?"

Arafinwë shook his head. "No. He merely reports which groups are coming and the estimated number of delegates attending. Tavrobel, Kortirion and Avallónë have agreed to send fourteen delegates each, and the other groups have agreed to that as well."

"That means two hundred and fifty-two delegates altogether from Tol Eressëa," Sador said, quickly doing the calculation in his head, then giving them a puzzled look. "But why fourteen? I would think twelve would be a more appropriate number."

Arafinwë smiled. "Can you not guess, hinya?"

Sador shook his head, looking confused. Eärwen gave her husband a slight reproving frown. "Don’t tease, Arafinwë," she admonished him, then patted their ward on his arm, giving him an encouraging smile. "Sador, how many Valar are attending the council?"

"Fourteen... oh! They don’t want to feel outnumbered!"

Arafinwë nodded approvingly. "Exactly."

"So if each of the kingdoms also sends fourteen delegates, with the Valar, that will bring the number to three hundred and eight."

"That is assuming that we bother with bringing fourteen delegates to the table," Arafinwë said. "I will have to consult with Olwë and Ingwë about it. We had already decided that, since Ingwë will be presiding over the council, he feels he has no right to represent the interests of the Vanyar, so it would be unfair for Olwë and me to represent our respective clans as well."

"Then who will lead the Amaneldi?" Gilvagor asked.

"We have thought to have our heirs fill that role," Arafinwë replied.

"Does Findaráto know what you plan for him?" Sador asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Arafinwë laughed. "He will eventually. We still haven’t come to any firm conclusions on the matter. This is just one possibility. If we decide that the three clans should form a single voting block, then more than likely Lindarion will head the delegation, as he is the oldest of the three haryoni."

"Is he? I thought Ingwion was," Sador said.

Eärwen shook her head. "My brother is older than Ingwion by about half a Valian year."

"At any rate, I had best write to Ingwë and Olwë and let them know what has been decided by the Tol Eressëans and then we can decide how we will form our own delegations."

"Just don’t forget to let Findaráto know what you have planned for him," Sador said with a grin. "You know he hates being surprised."

"I thought that was Glorfindel," Haldir quipped and the others chuckled.

"I wish he were here," Sador replied, looking a bit sad. "I miss him. Are you sure he is well, Atya?" he asked Arafinwë.

The king smiled gently. "The last report from the Maiar said he was settling in. Have no fear for your otorno, Sador. I’m sure he misses you as well. We’ll see him again soon enough, I promise."

With that, the meeting broke up as Arafinwë called for a page to summon his chief scribe. "I’ll have him make copies of Dúlinn’s letter and send them to Ingwë and Olwë along with my own observations and suggestions," he said to Eärwen as everyone else was filing out of the chamber.

"Don’t forget to send a copy to Findaráto," she reminded him, bending down to give him a light kiss. "Ingwë and Olwë will share their letters with their family. We don’t want Findaráto to feel left out."

Arafinwë nodded as he returned his wife’s kiss with one of his own and then she left him to his task.

****

Finrod looked up as Lindorillë entered his pavilion and smiled at the elleth as she solemnly handed him the messenger pouch. It had become her duty to go once every other week to the gates of Lórien and meet the courier from Tirion to exchange pouches, collecting the missives that Finrod’s atar sent him and handing over the responses that would go back. Letters to the elflings’ parents and their letters to the children were handled differently with one of the Maiar who was charged with guarding them taking the letters back and forth from Vanyamar.

"Are there any messages that need immediate replies?" he asked her, for the courier would not be returning until the next morning.

"She said not," Lindorillë replied.

Finrod nodded as he accepted the pouch. "Thank you. Why don’t you go find Vorondil and his uncle while I go through these letters? It’s nearly noon and Vorondil is in charge of the noon meal today, as I recall. I’m sure they would welcome your help."

The elleth smiled. "Uncle Vondo is a very good cook."

Finrod smiled as the child exited the pavilion. The children had all gotten into the habit of referring to Vorondil Herendilion as ‘Uncle Vondo’ and the adults had gotten into the habit of calling him simply ‘Vondo’. It made it easier to differentiate between uncle and nephew. He pondered that relationship as he opened the pouch and withdrew the various documents, idly noting that none of them had the red seal which would indicate that an immediate reply was required. They all had the blue seal of non-urgent missives.

In the weeks that followed the reunion of Vondo with his family, there had been some rough times. Vondo was still unsure of his memory and apparently still did not remember Calalindalë, much to everyone’s relief, but the ellon had been asking some uncomfortable questions about Aldundil and Vorondil’s relationship with Finrod and not receiving any satisfying answers from anyone. Aldundil was at a loss to explain and Finrod refused to explain. He knew Vondo was frustrated by it all, but Finrod would not speak of the matter, for he did not think the ellon was emotionally ready for what he would hear. Luckily, Herendil agreed with him and said as much in Vondo’s presence. That seemed to be enough and Vondo had dropped the matter, at least for the time being.

In spite of his frustrations though, Vondo seemed to be forming a genuine bond of love with his nephew. Finrod reflected that it was interesting that the elder Vorondil did not seek to importune the younger with his questions. Apparently the Reborn sensed that this was just something between the adults and Vorondil was still an elfling. Finrod sighed, wondering how the Reborn ellon would take hearing just how his nephew had become the Noldorin prince’s bondsman. And when would he remember Calalindalë?

Shaking his head, he broke the seal on the first missive, quickly scanning its contents. Nothing vitally important, just an update on the Southern Fiefdoms. The harvest had been exceptionally good this year and the silos were filled. If the winter proved harsher than usual, there was no fear of anyone going without. Not that the Valar would permit that, but Finrod remembered the leaner years in Beleriand and had a healthy wish never to experience those again. Two other documents detailed some changes that were being contemplated in certain laws which, if approved, would be enacted at the New Year. Finrod put them aside for later perusal, for his atar would desire his opinion on these and he would need to read through the legal jargon carefully. His experience as a king usually helped him when examining such changes.

The last letter was thicker than the others. He opened it to find that it was in fact two letters, one from Councillor Dúlinn and the other from his atar. He read his atar’s letter first, for it was shorter, and then read Dúlinn’s letter. Interesting. He grabbed a scrap of parchment and his quill and began making some notes, but was interrupted when Lindorillë entered the pavilion.

"My lord, everyone has come and the noon meal is ready," she said with studied formality, giving him a curtsey that had improved in grace over the last months. "Would you join us?"

He smiled and put the quill down, capping the ink. "Thank you," he said. "I will join you momentarily."

She curtsied again and left. He gathered up his atar’s and Dúlinn’s letters to bring with him, knowing that Herendil, Aldundil, Laurendil and Manwen would be at lunch. They would be interested in hearing what progress had been made concerning the upcoming council. Leaving his own pavilion, he made his way to the largest of the three pavilions which housed the sleeping quarters of the five elflings. The front portion of the pavilion was the common room and dining hall for the grove’s residents. Behind the pavilion was an open-air kitchen. Only during the rare times when the weather turned inclement would meals be brought from the communal kitchens.

Inside the pavilion Finrod found Herendil and Vandacalimë speaking with Laurendil and Manwen while Aldundil and Vondo supervised the elflings who were busy setting out dishes. Vorondil was opening a bottle of wine and setting it at Finrod’s place. He smiled shyly as Finrod entered. Everyone else stopped and gave the prince respectful bows.

"My! We are so formal today," Finrod said with a smile. "Which must mean that you all want something from me."

Herendil laughed. "And here we thought we were just being good examples for the children."

"Hah!" Finrod replied as he took his seat, thus implicitly permitting the others to do the same. "Here." He handed the letters to the Noldorin lord. "What do you make of these?" He poured the wine into his glass and then poured it for Vandacalimë sitting on his left. Manwen, who was sitting on Finrod's right, forwent the wine for fruit juice because of her pregnancy. Finrod therefore passed the wine to Laurendil who filled his glass before giving the bottle to Aldundil who filled his brother’s glass and then Herendil’s before filling his own, thus finishing up the bottle. All the while Herendil was perusing the letters, his expression neutral.

He glanced up at Finrod as he gave the letters to Laurendil. "It should prove interesting," he said.

"And is that all you have to say, my lord?" Finrod asked as he accepted the salad bowl from Manwen and began dishing out some greens.

"What do you want me to say, Findaráto?" Herendil retorted with a slight frown. "I find it interesting that some of the farming communities are banding together with those miners from Angobel rather than with one of the three cities, but beyond that...." He shrugged, reaching for his wine glass and taking an appreciative sip.

"The king says here that he may turn over the Noldorin delegation to you," Laurendil said as he and Manwen looked over the missives.

Finrod nodded. "It makes sense. Ingwë will be presiding over the proceedings and it would not be politic for him to also head the Vanyarin delegation. If Ingwë abstains from that, I think Atar and Anatar will feel they should as well, so the only logical choice is to have their heirs lead their respective delegations."

"Then what role will the Noldóran and King Olwë play?" Manwen asked. "This council was, after all, their idea. I would think they would want to be involved in some manner other than as interested observers."

Finrod shrugged, giving them a wry look. "I cannot speak for either one of them, but if I know Atar, he would much rather sit back and watch the show."

There were chuckles all around. Then Aldundil spoke up as Laurendil handed him the letters to read. "I think it would be a good idea for his Majesty and King Olwë to join the High King in presiding over the council, allow the Tol Eressëans to see the three kings working together. The High King would have the final say on things, of course, but still...."

Finrod gave his vassal an appreciative look. "That’s really not a bad idea, Aldundil. I’m surprised no one’s thought of it before, including me. When I write to his Majesty, I will suggest it to him and give you credit for the idea."

Aldundil looked both pleased and embarrassed at the same time. All this time Vondo and the elflings had remained quiet, the elflings because they knew better than to interrupt the adults when they were conversing, and Vondo because he was still grappling with what was being said, trying to understand. He had leaned over Aldundil’s shoulder to read the letters, puzzling out their contents.

"What’s this about the Reborn?" he suddenly asked, pointing to a particular sentence in Councillor Dúlinn’s letter. "Why are they considered a separate delegation?

"Ah... it appears that my friend Brethorn — you remember him Laurendil, Manwen," Finrod said and they both nodded. Finrod continued, speaking to Vondo. "Well, Brethorn, who is a Reborn, took the initiative to form a Council of the Reborn. Its purpose is to help the Reborn on Tol Eressëa and oversee their reintegration into society. Many of the Reborn, even those with loving families, are sometimes misunderstood and do not find ready acceptance among the Once-born as my otorno Glorfindel calls them."

"And every time I hear that word I can’t help but feel as if it’s meant to be an insult," Herendil said with a sniff and Finrod laughed.

"A better word than I was wont to use, trust me. At any rate, Vondo, it was suggested that the Reborn send their own delegation to the council to represent their interests."

"I thought the Reborn were more accepted by the Tol Eressëans than here in Aman," Laurendil said.

Finrod nodded. "But that is not to say that there aren’t still misunderstandings and conflicts. Don’t you remember how Sador met Haldir and Gwilwileth?"

Laurendil nodded, his expression thoughtful. Vondo turned to Herendil. "Will you be attending this council... Atar? You and Aldundil?"

"That remains to be seen, yonya," Herendil answered. "His Majesty has the final say as to who will comprise the Noldorin delegation and Aldundil is Findaráto’s vassal, not Arafinwë’s. The prince will make his own decisions as to who will accompany him."

"Yes, I will," Finrod replied. "I think, with Atar’s permission, I will have Sador act as my diplomatic aide, since that is what he has been trained to be. Aldundil, your drawing abilities are improving. I would like you to come and act as a recorder of the event. There will be scribes and such recording the words and actions of the council, but a pictorial record would also be of interest to future historians. This is a landmark event and we should ensure a faithful record of all that occurs."

"I would be honored, lord," Aldundil said, looking both pleased and alarmed at the prospect, "though I fear I am not as talented as you would hope. My strength lies more in stylized illuminations than in true-to-life renderings, especially of people."

"Well, you have several weeks to improve your technique," was all Finrod said as he took a sip of wine.

"Yes, lord," Aldundil replied with a barely suppressed sigh.

Vandacalimë leaned past her husband and gave her son’s arm a gentle squeeze. "We have every faith in you, yonya," she said with a smile. "We know you will do your best and that is all that is required of any of us."

"Your ammë is correct, Aldundil," Finrod said with a nod. "I do not expect perfection, but I do expect you to do as best as you can. I will ask Lord Irmo if any of the Maiar could be spared to give you lessons to improve your technique."

"Thank you, lord," Aldundil said with some relief. "I would appreciate it. Should I also continue with the illuminations for your book?"

Finrod shook his head. "No. You may put that aside for now and concentrate on this. The council is only about a month away now so there’s little time."

"Will you speak to Marthchall about this?" Laurendil asked. "I would think he and Gurthalion would want to be present to help represent the miners."

Finrod nodded. "I will seek him out after lunch and apprise him of what is happening. I would imagine he will want to send his own missive to Meluiwen about it."

"So now we just have to wait for Mid-winter," Manwen said. "I would like to attend if possible but I have the feeling Lord Irmo won’t allow it."

"It is unusual for new apprentices to leave Lórien during the first three years of their training," Finrod said. "Lord Irmo has given you a great deal of latitude in that regard, but I fear your studies have suffered for it."

"So he told us when we returned," Laurendil said drily. "I asked him then why did he let us accompany you on the Progress in the first place if he never meant for us to complete the journey."

"And what did he say?" Finrod asked. "In truth, I did not bring the matter up before this, for I felt it was none of my business."

"He gave me that inscrutable look the Valar have and said, and I quote, ‘But you did complete the journey, my son. After all, you’re back in Lórien, are you not?’" Laurendil rolled his eyes. "I really wanted to kill him right then and there."

Finrod chuckled. "I know what you mean. There are times when I think the Valar deliberately provoke us just to see how close we get to trying to slit their throats."

All six elflings gasped at that, their eyes wide with horror and Finrod realized he should have chosen his words more carefully. He gave the children a cool look. "What you hear here is not to be repeated," he said and waited for them to nod in acquiescence. "The Valar are to be held in respect at all times, even as you respect the adults around you," he continued his lecture, "but you must understand that adults sometimes express themselves in ways that sound discourteous but are not. This is one such occasion." He paused and relented somewhat, giving them a conspiratorial grin. "I’m sure you do the same among yourselves when we adults are not around to hear." He gave them a knowing look and Lindorillë blushed while Veryandur snickered and then tried to hide it by burying his face in Narmollë’s belly. The others simply nodded.

Vondo gave them all a smug look. "Doesn’t apply to us Reborn, though," he said. "We’re always disrespectful and we always mean it."

"And you wonder why even the Maiar run the other way when they see you coming," Aldundil retorted with a snort. Vondo stuck his tongue out at his brother and there was quiet laughter all around as they continued their meal.

****

And so Hísimë came and went and Autumn became Winter. The month of Ringarë was a third done when ships from Tol Eressëa began to make their way across the Bay of Eldamar in spite of the high seas as winter storms began to form somewhere out in the middle of the ocean, docking at the small harbor that looked opposite of Tavrobel. Escorts were provided by Arafinwë to lead the various groups up the Calacirya to Tirion where they would be fêted before continuing on to Valmar. The first to arrive was the delegation from Tavrobel itself, together with those from Angobel who would represent the miners and those farming communities that had joined with them. Over the next couple of days, the other delegates from the cities and guilds reached the shores of Aman and disembarked. The last ship was out of Avallónë, but it did not carry the Avallónean delegation, which had come earlier, but the Nandorin delegation and a group of people who kept mostly to themselves. The Nandor gave them uneasy glances, for it appeared that most of the conversations overheard among this strange group seemed to be less about the upcoming council and more about how much they were looking forward to seeing the Lord of Mandos again. None of the Nandor were brave enough to ask them why.

****

Haryoni: (Quenya) Plural of haryon: heir and throne-prince to a king.

Note: Narquelië (7 October-6 November); Hísimë (7 November-5 December); Ringarë (6 December-5 January). The delegations from Tol Eressëa began arriving on 10 Ringarë (15 December).





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List