127: Vondo in Valmar

Vondo found himself feeling deserted and unwanted. He couldn’t understand why all of his new-found family had left him behind to go to this Council. If only his nephew could have stayed behind, it would have been fine, but Prince Findaráto’s grove was empty. Vondo went there the day after everyone had left, hoping that someone would be there, but of course there was no one there and the grove had a desolate feel to it. One of the Maiar appeared and steered him gently back towards his own part of Lórien, reminding the Reborn that he should be attending his classes.

"You don’t want to disappoint Prince Findaráto, do you?" Lisselindë said with a smile. "Especially not after he went to the trouble of arranging those scouting trips for you while he was away."

Vondo had to concede that the Maia was correct about that. He’d been quite surprised when the prince had told him about the scouting expeditions just before he left. "Laurendil has agreed to supervise them," Findaráto had told him, "but only if you are good and attend all your other classes," and he had promised that he would.

That promise he kept for an entire week or so, attending every class and generally obeying the Lóriennildi and the Maiar. His friends among the Reborn were surprised and dismayed that he refused to join them in getting into trouble. As tempting as some of their escapades sounded, Vondo declined to participate. "Prince Findaráto would not like it," was his usual explanation, which oddly enough would dampen the enthusiasm of the other Reborn, for they were in awe of the erstwhile King of Nargothrond and did not want to incur his displeasure, though none of them could actually recall ever seeing their hero acting displeased with any of them. Still, invoking his name was usually a good way to curb their exuberance to some extent.

That, however, worried the Lóriennildi. Master Meneldil even commented on it to Masters Calamírë and Vardamir a few days after Finrod and his entourage had left. "Lórien seems oddly quiet lately," he said as the three Masters sat together in his grove after breakfast, discussing assignments for those apprentices and journeymen who were in Lórien during the solstice holiday, as well as the state of affairs among the Reborn in general.

"You noticed that too," Vardamir said with a smile as he sipped on some herbal tea.

"Almost too quiet, if you ask me," Calamírë retorted with a shake of her head, "though I suppose we should be thankful for small favors."

"It strikes me that the quiet is too unnatural," Meneldil opined. "It’s almost like the quiet before a storm."

"Or a battle," Vardamir added, his eyes darkening with memory and the other two healers looked at him with some surprise and even trepidation.

"Do you think that’s what it is?" Calamírë asked worriedly. "We’re in for a storm or battle?"

The other two shrugged. "Something has to give," Vardamir answered. "The Reborn simply cannot remain good for too long. It’s against their nature."

The other two chuckled in agreement. "They have been exceptionally good this past week," Calamírë admitted. "None of the journeymen have come to me with complaints and the Maiar have been conspicuous by their absence. You’re right, Vardamir. The Reborn are up to something."

"So we’ll have to alert our people to be extra vigilant," Meneldil said.

"What signs should they be looking for?" Vardamir asked respectfully. As the newest member of the staff, he was still feeling his way and knew himself to be very much the junior Master with little hands-on experience with the Reborn.

"They’ll start acting restless, unable to concentrate," Meneldil replied, "and irritable, snapping at each other and everyone else. They’re bottling up all those emotions, trying to be good, and it just doesn’t work, at least not in the long run. I suspect that the first Reborn who has a sudden emotional connection to a memory will set them all off."

The other two Masters nodded. "In the meantime, I, for one, will enjoy the peace and quiet," Calamírë said with a knowing smile.

Meneldil and Vardamir echoed her sentiment as they continued discussing assignments.

****

The day after the solstice, which was celebrated quietly by the Lóriennildi, for the Reborn neither knew nor cared about such things yet, Laurendil announced to Vondo that they would take a scouting trip that afternoon. "Nothing taxing and we won’t go far," the ellon told him, "I really just want to see what your skill level is before I plan more advanced tests."

Vondo perked up at that and was more animated than he’d been previously. Manwen had commented earlier to her husband on the Reborn’s lackluster attitude and reminded him of his promise to Finrod to take the poor ellon scouting. So, the two set off after lunch. Laurendil had enlisted the aid of Ingil and a couple of other Maiar to leave a trail for Vondo to follow.

"Don’t make it too obvious and lay a few false trails along the way," he told the Maiar and they nodded in understanding, smiling with anticipation.

Vondo proved quite adept at following the trail which Laurendil told him would lead to a surprise, so the Reborn was quite eager to do well. He did fall for one of the false trails which Laurendil privately admitted that he himself might have been fooled into following, but the Reborn quickly realized his mistake and returned them to the correct trail. Laurendil imagined the Maiar were having a grand time with them, and most likely laying bets on Vondo’s abilities.

In fact, the Maiar had done an exceptional job of laying the trail, for it took far longer than Laurendil had anticipated for them to reach their goal, but that was fine as far as he was concerned. Vondo was having the time of his life and when they came to the end he shouted with delight at the sight of Ingil waiting for them in a small clearing that few, if any, of the elves ever visited. The Maia smiled and gestured for them to join him at a small table where wine and food — some of Vondo’s favorite sweets, which was the surprise Laurendil had mentioned — awaited them.

"That took less time than I thought," Ingil said to Vondo as he poured some wine for them. "I was sure you wouldn’t find this place as quickly as you did."

"You did an excellent job today, Vondo," Laurendil agreed. "I’m going to be hard-pressed to come up with interesting challenges for you."

Vondo smirked. "I’m good," he said without any false modesty and Laurendil vowed to himself to see that smirk off the ellon’s face before the week was out.

He had his chance two days later. This time he told Vondo that the object was to find him. "You will give me two hours to lose myself," he said to the Reborn, "and you will have two hours to find me."

"And if I don’t find you?" Vondo asked.

Laurendil shrugged. "Then you don’t find me. Now, go with Ingil. He will let you know when you may start and take you to where the trail begins. He’ll stay with you and let you know when the two hours are up if you haven’t found me by then but he will not aid you in any way so do not think to ask for his help."

"That would be cheating," Vondo said stiffly.

"And you never cheat," Laurendil said approvingly, clasping the ellon’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze, then he was away and Ingil led Vondo to the painting grove where he spent the next couple hours working on another still life until the Maia told him to put his brushes away and clean up. He then led him to a spot on the east side of the lake and pointed to a small red flag flapping in the breeze.

"There’s your starting point," Ingil said. "Determine in which direction Laurendil was headed and go from there."

It took Vondo only a minute to find the faint trace of Laurendil’s passing and soon he was following the trail, delighting in the thrill of the chase and confident that he would find his quarry soon enough. That confidence began to ebb after he’d been tracking Laurendil for an hour with no sign that he was any nearer to his goal than before.

"Are you sure Laurendil isn’t still moving?" he asked Ingil at one point when he stopped to take a break, drinking from a briskly running stream.

The Maia shook his head. "He has not moved since he reached where he means for you to find him... if you can."

Vondo sighed, looking discouraged. The trail was plainly there, and yet... he shook his head and grimaced, determined not to let Laurendil outsmart him. He set off again, more determined than ever to find the apprentice healer within the allotted time. He was feeling put upon, not realizing that Laurendil had had centuries of practice eluding orcs or hunting them whereas Vondo had been a scout during the War of Wrath for only a few years and even that memory was incomplete. Laurendil was a master in the game of hide-and-find and Vondo, who prided himself on his abilities, was a rank amateur in comparison and that did not sit well with him.

His anger at himself for not succeeding as quickly as he thought he should and anger at Laurendil for seemingly making a fool out of him made him careless and he soon realized he’d missed seeing any clues for some time. In fact, looking about him, he realized he’d gotten himself lost. He stared at Ingil in consternation but the Maia simply stood there, his expression unreadable, and Vondo realized he would have to unlose himself.

"How much time?" he asked, knowing that, unless he was very lucky and regained the trail, he probably would not find Laurendil in the allotted time.

"You still have about a half an hour," the Maia replied.

Vondo cursed under his breath, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His own passage through the woods was obvious, for in his growing anger he’d not cared where he was going, plowing through the underbrush like some clod-footed Mortal. He managed to retrace his steps back to the stream, then wasted a little time hunting around for clues of Laurendil’s passage. He found the trail and was about to take it up again when Ingil called for him to halt, saying his time was up.

"Drat!" Vondo snarled and then suddenly sat in the dirt and began weeping. Ingil let him cry himself out, standing there in sympathetic silence. When the spate of tears came to an end he helped the ellon to his feet, brushing the dirt and twigs from his clothes.

"It’s not the end of the world, child," Ingil said soothingly. "You were very close to finding Laurendil, but you let your emotions rule you at a critical time and you became careless. With a bit more practice, you should do very well. Come, come. No more tears. Let’s return to your pavilion and we’ll wait for Laurendil to show."

So they trudged back, or at least Vondo did, feeling sick at heart for failing in what should have been an easy task. Ingil wisely said nothing but kept the ellon at a good pace, taking a more direct route back to Vondo’s pavilion where they had agreed to wait for Laurendil if Vondo failed to find him. In fact, when they arrived, it was to find Laurendil sitting at the table sipping some fruit juice and looking smug. Vondo saw that look and instantly hated the former ranger and without a word turned on his heels and ran from the grove, ignoring both Laurendil and Ingil shouting his name. He ran blindly until he could run no more, instinctively heading for the blue-painted flet he’d found deep in the woods, hiding himself there. He was sure that if they wanted to find him the Maiar would have no trouble but he was grateful that no one bothered him. He stayed there all night, wrapped in his misery and did not leave the flet all the next day save to relieve himself. He was hungry but that was not enough to bring him down from the flet and return to his grove.

"I wish I could have gone to Valmar with everyone else," he said to himself at one point and then a wild idea struck him. At first he was too stunned by it to breathe and he had to force himself to take a breath. Go to Valmar. Well, why not? Why should he stay here in Lórien where people like Laurendil could make a fool of him and laugh at him. It was a measure of his own immaturity and insecurity and lack of memory of how things were that convinced Vondo that Laurendil and even Ingil were doing just that. In his anger and sense of injustice it never occurred to him that, if anything, Laurendil was feeling very remorseful and it was only because Ingil and Manwen advised him otherwise that Laurendil hadn’t gone looking for Vondo to apologize.

"Let him have this time to pout," Manwen said with a smile. "He’ll be back soon enough once hunger takes hold."

Only he didn’t return and when it was discovered that one of the horses was also missing an alarm went up and the hunt was on, but Vondo had had a good two days’ head start and when Ingil silently informed his Master of what had happened, he and the other Maiar were firmly ordered not to intervene or to render aid. That did not sit well with the elves who joined Laurendil to go after the missing Reborn, but Laurendil merely nodded. This was a problem which the elves needed to solve without the help of the Powers. Some time was wasted in determining just where Vondo was headed, for the ellon had been very clever in hiding his tracks.

"Not clever enough," Laurendil said with no little satisfaction as he found the trail and gestured for the others to follow him. He was anticipating giving Vondo a good talking to when he finally caught up with the silly ellon, unaware that his desire would be thwarted.

****

Vondo congratulated himself on a job well done. As soon as he had made his mind up to go to Valmar and find his atto he laid plans, waiting until it was past midnight before he left the flet, carefully sneaking back into his grove to retrieve a cloak and a satchel. He managed to do this without waking the two friends who shared the pavilion. Next he made his way stealthily to the kitchen pavilion to snatch some trail food and then to the stables where he had his pick of horses, finally settling on a dun-colored gelding with a black mane and tail who whickered softly as if, in Vondo’s mind, the horse was as eager for a midnight run as he.

All the while he half-expected a host of Maiar to suddenly appear and drag him back to his grove, but the night was quiet and no Maia showed up. He quickly mounted the horse which he decided to name Nullon because of his dark coloring and urged the gelding towards the gates leading out of Lórien. He wasn’t sure if the gates were manned or would even open, but his fears were put to rest when he discovered that there were no guards and the gate was unbarred and easily opened. Then why bother with gates at all? he asked himself as he took the time to close the gates again before setting off on the road, heading east.

From the discussions he had heard he knew that Valmar lay about three days to the east but he was sure that if he stayed on the road he would eventually be caught, assuming that his absence was discovered in time. He decided to leave the road as soon as it was light out and strike southeast for a time before making his way north again. It was likely he would be met at the gates of Valmar by an irrate Laurendil or a couple of amused looking Maiar but perhaps he could elude them anyway.

Dawn seemed to take forever to arrive but as soon as the sky began to turn grey Vondo began looking for a likely place to turn off, not wanting to leave any trace if he could help it. About a mile further on he came to another road on his right that led southwest through dimly seen hills. He had no idea where that road went and it didn’t look as if it was traveled on all that much, but he swung down it and went far enough down until it bent around a copse of beeches, the east road disappearing from view. Here he left that road and made his way carefully through the copse until he was clear of it and riding across open fields. The east road was now a silver-grey ribbon to his left and he hoped he would be able to stay hidden from anyone traveling it. There were certainly plenty of small woods dotting the landscape. His spirits rose and he began singing a spritely tune, confident that he would reach Valmar in good time, a confidence that was not misplaced, for he was halfway to Valmar before anyone even realized that he was missing.

****

Vondo saw the city of the Powers two days later, coming up the road that he discovered which ran north and south. Like the other road that went southwest, this one did not see much traffic and that suited Vondo just fine. He gazed in awe as he reached the red gold gate encrusted with rubies shining brilliantly in the early afternoon sun, for it was clear to him that no elf had had a hand in its crafting. The gate stood open and inviting. He patted the horse’s neck.

"We’re here, Nullon," he said triumphantly, "and no Laurendil in sight, unless he’s standing at the other gate waiting for me." That thought brought a laugh from him and Nullon nickered as if sharing the joke.

But then, as Vondo entered Valmar, he suddenly realized something: he had no idea how to find his atto or anyone else for that matter. He urged Nullon further along as the southern road passed between two mansions, connecting with a wide avenue that ran the length of the city. He gazed about him with uncertainty, beginning to doubt the wisdom of coming here. He slipped off his horse and stood there, wondering what he should do. He couldn’t very well stand there and shout his atto’s name, though he very much wanted to. There didn’t seem to be anyone about and he was perplexed, for in his mind the word ‘city’ evoked images of many people milling about, going from market to market or sitting outside a tavern and watching the world go by as they drank their wine. But here... here there was no one; the place was deserted and he had no idea what he should do.

"Whom are you looking for, child?" came a voice from behind him and Vondo started, giving a strangled yelp as he turned to find himself face-to-face with a Maia wearing a blue-green surcoat embroidered with elanor and niphredil entwined. Without thinking he blurted out, "I can’t find Atto," and then cringed, wishing, in his embarrassment, that he could die again for sounding like a twelve-year-old.

If the Maia found him amusing, she did not show it. "I am Lótessë of the People of Vána," she said by way of introduction, "and I will take you to him. Leave your horse here. He will be cared for."

Vondo was so used to Maiar seemingly knowing everything that it never occurred to him as he followed her to question how she even knew who he was, much less who his atar was. Lótessë led him across the avenue past a mansion fronted by carnelian gates, bringing him into a garden surrounding a smaller mansion. "Your atto is here," she said and led him inside where he found himself in a cloister with an upper gallery. The Maia turned right along the covered walk and they went two-thirds around until they came to an unremarkable door.

Lótessë smiled at Vondo. "Your atto is in here. No need to knock. Just go in." And then she was not there, leaving behind the subtle fragrance of lilacs lingering in the air.

Vondo hesitated for a moment and then, as quietly as he could, he opened the door and peeked in. What he expected to see, he could never have said. What he saw astounded him. It was a large circular chamber that was more like an amphitheatre with tiers descending to a central dais where people sat around a ring-shaped table. He couldn’t imagine how the room could have been constructed for he was obviously on the ground floor and he had the odd sense that the space taken up by the chamber was actually larger than the width of the wing of the building and yet it seemed to be encompassed by the building itself. It made no sense and his mind shied away from the contradictions, focusing on finding his atto, whom he saw was sitting across from him in the third tier.

His initial surprise and uneasiness disappeared at seeing his atto and his brother sitting together and he bounded into the room with greater enthusiasm, ignoring the startled, and in some cases, disgruntled looks from those sitting in the tiers. "Atto! Atto! Here I am!" he called out in delight.

Herendil, like everyone else, had started at the unexpected sight of his eldest son striding into the room, his face wreathed in a smile. "Yonya," he exclaimed as he stood to face his son, "what are you doing here? How did you get here? Where are your minders?"

"I don’t need minders, Atto," Vondo retorted with a frown. "I wanted to see you again."

"But how did you even find me?"

"Oh! A nice Maia brought me here."

There were some titters from the spectators at the ingenuousness of the ellon’s reply, sounding so much like an elfling in spite of the fact that they could see that he was not. Before Herendil or Aldundil, who had also risen, could respond to that, Selmacas, who had stared in disbelief at the sight of the ellon, now rose, his expression one of anger.

"You!" he sputtered. "You! You’re alive!"

Vondo, who had been making his way along the rows to reach his atar, stopped suddenly in surprise and stared at the ellon yelling at him. He frowned as a vagrant memory flitted in and out of his consciousness and then his expression cleared and he smiled innocently. "Oh, I remember you. You’re Selmacas. You have a daughter, don’t you? Cala-something." He waved his hand negligently, already losing interest in the ellon, being more intent on joining his atar and regaling him with tales of his latest adventures. But that easy dismissal sent Selmacas into a fury and with a wordless cry he was on poor Vondo, screaming at him and pummeling him, making him trip on the steps as he tried to protect himself so that he landed hard on his back, screaming in pain, cracking his head so that he nearly lost consciousness.

Immediately there was pandemonium as people yelled and tried to get out of the way. Selmacas leaped on the sprawled Vondo, straddling the ellon’s body and continued beating on him. "You traitor! Oathbreaker!" he screamed with every punch delivered. It took Herendil, Aldundil as well as Sador and Haldir, to pull him off the hapless Reborn who lay there in a huddle with blood streaming from his nose, crying, "Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me."

"SILENCE!" Manwë shouted.

At once the noise level dropped. Even Selmacas, who had been screaming invectives, went quiet, breathing harshly as he struggled against those who held him. Herendil and Aldundil went to Vondo even as Finrod and others converged on the poor ellon who continued lying there dripping blood and weeping.

"Vondo, Vondo," Herendil called and would have cradled his son in his arms but Finrod stayed him.

"Let’s check his injuries first before he’s moved," the prince said quietly and motioned for Elríen to join him. The elleth came and gently felt for broken bones. Vondo’s weeping turned into gasps of pain when she touched his ribs.

"Two cracked and one definitely broken," she said quietly, "and there’s something wrong with his spine."

Finrod frowned at the elleth’s words and then nodded, as if he understood what she was saying. He combed his fingers through Vondo’s hair and spoke gently to him. "Vondo, can you move your legs? Try to move your legs."

"I... I can’t," Vondo cried. "I... I can’t feel anything. Wh-why can’t I feel anything? Wh-where’s Atto? I want Atto."

"I’m right here, yonya," Herendil crooned, taking one of Vondo’s hands and rubbing it between his own. "I’m right here." Then he turned to Elríen. "What’s wrong with him?" he asked softly.

"The force of his landing snapped a vertebra, I think," she answered just as softly. "He appears to be paralyzed."

"Better than he deserves," Selmacas snarled.

Aldundil was on him immediately, his eyes blazing in fury, but before he could do more than wrap his hands around Selmacas’ neck, Finrod was grabbing him and pulling him away. "Enough!" he yelled as he handed the still furious Aldundil off to Oromë who happened to be right there. The Valar, in fact, were surrounding those most involved in the fracas, effectively keeping the other elves away.

"Get him out of here!" Finrod snapped at Haldir and Sador, but even as they were attempting to drag Selmacas out of the room two Maiar wearing the black surcoats of the Lord of Mandos appeared and took him in hand.

"Take him to Mandos," Námo instructed the Maiar, his expression cold and forbidding. "Keep him in one of the Gardens. Maranwë will know which ones are empty at the moment. See to it that he has everything he needs for his comfort except his freedom."

Selmacas, whose face had been red with anger now went white as the two Maiar hustled him out of the room, the doors closing silently behind them. The rest of the elves were absolutely silent, barely daring to breathe in case they came to the attention of the Valar. Meanwhile, Estë was kneeling between Finrod and Elríen, speaking softly. "It’s more of a pressure on the spinal cord than a complete break, but we will need to repair the damage. Do you sense the swelling here?" She took their hands in hers and placed them above Vondo’s abdomen and the two nodded. "It’s what is causing the paralysis."

"What do we do?" Elríen asked respectfully. "The few times that I encountered such a severe injury in an elf, they’ve chosen to flee to Mandos rather than spend all the ages of Arda unable to move."

Before Estë could respond, Vondo started blubbering. "I don’t want to die again, Atto. Please, I don’t want to die again. I just got out!" There was such a note of despair in his voice that few there were unmoved.

Námo came and stood facing Vondo. "Child, look at me," he said in a tone that would not be gainsaid and Vondo reluctantly turned his gaze on the Lord of Mandos. "I assure you, if you do flee to Mandos, I will be very displeased." Námo allowed his expression to darken and several of the elves blanched at the force of his words.

*Don’t frighten him into Mandos, Brother!* Estë sent to Námo, her tone sharp, even as she was quietly describing to Elríen and Finrod what they needed to do to repair the damage to Vondo’s spine.

Námo did not deign to reply but kept his gaze locked with Vondo’s.

"But how will we repair the damage?" Elríen exclaimed, looking perplexed. "If we try to move him...."

"Do not worry about that," Estë said and looked up at Manwë, giving him a nod. "He needs to be kept very still and horizontal."

Manwë nodded and then to the amazement of the onlookers Vondo was suddenly floating about three feet from the ground. Estë stood and motioned for Finrod and Elríen to stand, then gestured for the other thirteen healers to gather around Vondo, who never spoke or even seemed to be aware of his surroundings, his gaze fixed on Námo.

"Findaráto and Elríen will do the actual repairs," Estë said, "but you must lend them your strength. I will guide you." She turned to Finrod and smiled. "You are no stranger to this, so you will take the lead."

Finrod nodded, his eyes blanking out with deep concentration and then to the amazement of many, if not all, he began to Sing. The flow of Power was evident and some of the elves even took a step or two back. Elríen and the other Tol Eressëan healers gasped almost as one and then fell silent as Finrod continued to Sing a song of healing, his hands underneath Vondo, the palms touching the area of the injury. The sense of Power rose with every verse until it crescendoed into a paean of praise for Eru in allowing the healing. Finrod sang a final verse and then wilted to the floor. Three of the other healers also fainted and the rest were reeling with fatigue, held up by helpful hands. Ingwion, who had been standing behind Finrod, reached for him as he crumpled to the ground and pulled him out of the way as a litter appeared underneath Vondo’s body and the ellon was gently lowered onto it, though no hands held him. When he was safely settled, a blanket wrapped around him, Estë smiled down at him and Námo released him from his attention.

"We need to keep you still for a day or two until the swelling recedes and the healing is complete. I’m sending you into healing sleep." Then before the ellon could utter a protest, with a simple stroke of her hand across his brow, he fell asleep. Only when she was satisfied did she turn her attention to Elríen and the other healers. "You did very well, my children."

Elríen smiled weakly, leaning heavily on one of the other healers. "Thank you, lady, considering that I don’t think any of us have ever gone this deep into hröacenda before, especially using Songs of Power to heal. Lord Elrond, I think is quite adept, but it’s not a technique that most of us have had occasion to use. We’ve usually relied on herbal remedies and an elf’s natural healing abilities, that and healing sleep to effect repairs to the hröa, and when that fails, we allow them to fade."

"Understandable," Estë said with a smile, "and even here the use of Songs of Power is rarely employed. Findaráto seems to have mastered it all on his own."

Finrod blushed slightly at the praise. Then Estë gave the healers a measuring look. "It is obvious that you are all weak from expending so much energy. I think, Nienna, beds can be found for them," she said briskly to her spouse's sister.

"I’ve already seen to it, dear," Nienna said, smiling at one of the healers who was reeling where he stood. She held him up by the elbow with a single hand. "Tiutalion has aired out one of the wings. Ah, here he is now."

A Maia wearing the dark grey surcoat and fountain emblem of the Lady of Pity appeared, giving them all a bow. "All is ready, Mistress," he said and Nienna nodded, encouraging the fourteen healers to follow Tiutalion. "You will not be missing much, I assure you," she said. "Tiutalion will see to your needs." The healers gave their obeisance and with some of the other elves giving them support, they followed the Maia out.

"I think the rest of you may also depart," Manwë said to the remaining delegates and, as mild as his tone was, there was a force behind it that none dared disobey and there was a flurry of bows and curtsies as everyone began to leave, speaking in soft murmurs.

Only the Valar, the three kings and their heirs, along with Sador, Beleg, Amarië and Alassiel remained with Herendil, Aldundil and a now sleeping Vondo. Herendil turned to Estë. "He will recover?"

"Yes, Herendil," she said with a smile. "Your son will recover. It will take a day or two for the swelling to subside and then he should regain full use of his legs. He’ll be up and around soon."

"Thank you," Herendil said with great emotion and Estë took him into her embrace and held him until he could get himself under control.

Nienna then spoke. "I think it best that Vondo stay here rather than be moved too far. You and Aldundil may stay as well and I’ll have Vandacalimë and Vorondil sent for."

Herendil nodded his thanks and then looked at Manwë, his expression more chagrined. "I’m sorry, lord. I had no idea Vondo would actually come here. Whatever possessed him to do so?"

"I’m afraid things did not go too well between him and Laurendil and Vondo decided to come find you. He missed you, all of you, you know, and did not quite understand why all of you had deserted him," Manwë replied.

"But we didn’t desert him," Aldundil exclaimed in surprise as he gazed down at his sleeping brother.

"No, of course not," Irmo assured him, "but that is how he felt. At any rate, he is here now. I’ve instructed one of my Maiar to let Laurendil and the others know. They’re about a day out from Valmar. I’ll have them come here so they may rest before returning to Lórien."

Estë meanwhile was checking on Finrod. "You are recovering more quickly than before," she told him with a smile. "Your technique is improving."

"Having all the other healers helped," he said with a thin smile as he accepted a goblet of wine that appeared in Estë’s hand. "Vondo?" he asked after taking a long gulp.

"He will recover and so will you." She held out her hand and helped him up with Ingwion supporting him.

"What about Selmacas?" Finrod asked.

"We’ll deal with him later," Arafinwë said coldly.

"I’m sorry I attacked him," Aldundil said, shaking his head ruefully. "I... I guess I just snapped."

"Understandable," Manwë said calmly, "but you must take care not to allow yourself to be goaded again, Aldundil. You are too fine an ellon to lower yourself to Selmacas’ level."

Aldundil nodded and gave the Elder King a soft ‘thank you’.

"Let’s get Vondo settled," Námo then said, "and I think you should get some rest yourself, best beloved," he added to Finrod.

Finrod nodded, taking a steadying breath and then chuckling in spite of his fatigue.

"What’s so funny?" Sador asked.

Finrod gave him a weary smile. "I was just thinking how upset Glorfindel is going to be when he learns how much fun he’s missing not being here."

Sador was not the only one who eyed him with disbelief and Finrod couldn’t help laughing at their expressions as they made their way out of the chamber with Irmo and Oromë carrying Vondo’s stretcher. The last to leave were Manwë and Námo. The Lord of Mandos gave the Elder King a knowing look. "From their lips to our ears," he said softly and Manwë’s eyes twinkled with humor.

"What’s our next move?" Námo then asked.

"The board is set but we’re still missing a few pieces," Manwë said as the two exited the chamber. "Time to bring them into the game."

"Glorfindel," Námo said with a knowing smile.

"And others," Manwë replied with a nod.

****

Words are Quenya.

Nullon: ‘Dusky one’, from nulla: ‘dusky’ + masculine suffix.

Lótessë: The month we call ‘May’.

Hröacenda: Body-reading, an elvish healing technique; cf. attested word sanwecenda ‘thought-reading’. My thanks for Alassiel for coming up with the term and allowing me to borrow it.