147: Reunions (Part One)

Five years later:

Glorfindel stood impatiently at the rail of the Elerrína, staring at the slowly approaching shore. Falmaron came up to him and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a knowing smile. “Not much longer, my friend,” he said. “We’ll have you ashore soon enough.”

“You would think, after all this time, I would be used to this,” Glorfindel said with a shake of his head. “Yet, every time I come back to Tirion, it’s always the same. I cannot wait to get off this blasted ship.”

“Blasted ship, is it?” Falmaron exclaimed with no anger, merely giving Glorfindel a laugh. “In that case, you can swim back to Aewellond.”

“Sorry,” Glorfindel said with a rueful look, realizing he may have insulted the captain of the ‘blasted ship’. “You know what I mean.”

“Indeed I do,” Falmaron assured him, giving him another hearty clap on the shoulder, “and I understand, better than you think.”

“So where are you going, once you drop me off?” Glorfindel asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Back to Alqualondë,” the captain replied, giving him a wry look. “Where I will no doubt be inundated with all the gory details of the upcoming wedding between Olwen and Ingwion.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Nuru ocla lá umbar,” he quipped and Falmaron joined him in laughter. “I know I am not the only one who was surprised to hear of the betrothal,” he continued, “but I am glad for them both, for Ingwion, especially.”

“They met during the Darkening, believe it or not,” Falmaron revealed. “He and Findaráto came to Alqualondë to apprise Atar of what was happening in Tirion. They stayed for a while and everyone could see the mutual attraction between them. Unfortunately, circumstances drove them apart and then Ingwion....”

Glorfindel nodded in understanding and Falmaron continued. “Yes, well, at any rate, it was good to see them renewing their acquaintance during that Council in Valmar when Sador was chosen as Cáno.”

“I’m surprised that they didn’t decide to wait and wed when Findaráto and Amarië do,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “They would only have to wait another seven years.”

Falmaron laughed. “Olwen refused to wait that long,” he said. “Come. I see we are nearly there. I’ll have my people bring Alagos up.” He turned away, shouting orders while Glorfindel continued watching the shore, contemplating how five years had changed things. Where once there had been only a couple of quays, there was now a bustling port. Rómenhópa, it was called now. He could see at least a dozen ships, a mixture of the swanships of Alqualondë and the grey ships of Tol Eressëa, off-loading or on-loading goods. Friendly shouts between the sailors and the dockworkers, speaking in a mixture of Quenya and Sindarin, rang across the waters. Someone somewhere was singing a sea-chanty and several voices joined in the chorus.

As the ship came closer to shore, Glorfindel looked to see if anyone was there to greet him. To his surprise, he saw Ingwion standing on the quay, waving, and waved back. When the ship was docked and Alagos led down the gangplank, Glorfindel went to greet his friend. “I did not expect to see you here,” he said to Ingwion as the two hugged.

“I received a message saying I was to meet my parents in Valmar,” Ingwion said, giving Falmaron a hug as well, for the captain had come ashore to greet his soon-to-be brother-in-law. “As I knew you were arriving today, I decided to wait and travel with you.”

“I’m only going as far as Tirion, though,” Glorfindel said. “I will be spending the next few months overseeing the training of the Noldorin warriors at Atar’s request.”

Ingwion shrugged. “But we can enjoy one another’s company in the meantime,” he said. “I cannot stay in Tirion as I am expected in Valmar by the end of the week, but perhaps on my way back to Kortirion I will be able to visit.”

“Then let us be on our way,” Glorfindel said with a smile and then he gave Falmaron a hug in farewell and thanks and Falmaron promised Ingwion he would convey his greetings to Olwen and the family. Then the captain returned to his ship and Glorfindel and Ingwion mounted their horses and set off up the Calacirya to Tirion.

“So how are things in Aewellond?” Ingwion asked as they rode along.

“Everyone is well,” Glorfindel answered. “Galdor and Legolas and a few others are all excited about the next tournament.”

“Do you think there will be many people attending with it so far away from everything?” Ingwion wondered. “People will have to set out nearly a month before if they want to reach Aewellond in time.”

“I thought Olwë and the Tol Eressëan sea captains were supplying ships to ferry people there?”

“Oh yes, but even so, there probably aren’t enough ships for everyone unless several trips are made, so some are going to have to leave a good month in advance. Even with Maiar helping, it will still take nearly a week to sail in one direction.”

“Hmm.... I do hope though that people do not stay away because of the distance. You do not know how excited everyone is. This is the first time Aewellond has opened itself to the rest of Eldamar. The people there are finally thinking of themselves as being a part of the elvish community rather than a lonely outpost of misfits and wanderers. Much is riding on the success of this tournament.”

They continued riding in silence for a few minutes and then Glorfindel asked a question. “How far have they gotten with the road?” The road was a major engineering project, begun three years before, which would eventually connect Aewellond with Alqualondë. They had started at both ends and hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.

“Last report has it about two hundred leagues from Alqualondë. Why?”

“Well, we managed to get our end to Hanstovánen,” Glorfindel answered with a smirk.

Ingwion gave him a surprised look. “You’re jesting!”

“Nay,” Glorfindel replied with a laugh. “I received the news just before I left.” Hanstovánen was the name given to the area in Araman where Glorfindel had disembarked from Captain Falastur’s ship when he had been searching for Eärendil. “So, if ships went that far, people would be able to continue from there with relative ease. I have no doubt that Lord Manwë will have Maiar guarding it against attacks from the wild creatures that inhabit the Far North. The journey from Alqualondë to Hanstovánen would take only three days and from there it’s only another four days of walking, three if you really push it. I’m sure Eärendil will have hostels set up for travelers."

“That would certainly make it more feasible,” Ingwion averred. “I will tell my Atar about it.”

They continued riding along. Glorfindel contemplated the watchtowers that lined the Calacirya, manned by the Maiar in eternal vigilance. Even after all this time he was still not used to the sight of them and suppressed a shudder.

“By the way,” Ingwion said suddenly, “Sador is in Tirion.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Truly?”

Ingwion nodded. “He’s there with Netilmírë. She’s there for the annual Council of Guilds.”

“Oh yes. Some of the guildmasters in Aewellond are attending.”

“Anyway, Sador decided to visit with Arafinwë and Eärwen while his anamillë was haranguing the other guildmasters.” Ingwion gave Glorfindel a knowing smile and Glorfindel chuckled, well aware of Netilmírë’s ways. She had become a force to be reckoned with and had the respect of every guildhouse in Eldamar. It helped that Lord Aulë himself had named her an Aulendurë, one of only a few so chosen by the Vala since the Darkening.

“So who’s in charge while Sador is away?” Glorfindel asked.

Ingwion gave him a wry grin. “Well, Morcocáno is Neuna Cáno at the moment.”

Glorfindel gave him a disbelieving look and Ingwion laughed. “He’s not so bad,” he said. “Morcocáno has mellowed somewhat these last few years. In fact, Sador tells me that he trusts him more than most.”

“Why is that?”

“Apparently, Morcocáno isn’t afraid to tell Sador the truth even if it’s unpalatable. Sador says that makes him invaluable in helping him rule more wisely and fairly.” Then he gave Glorfindel a wink. “Besides, Lady Meril is there to see that Morcocáno doesn’t get any bright ideas while Sador is away.”

Glorfindel snorted. “Well, it will be good to see him,” he said. “I am also hoping to go to Lórien later and visit with Findaráto and my other friends there.”

Eventually, they reached the city and were soon being warmly greeted by the royal family. Ingwion’s arrival was unexpected but welcomed and Arafinwë wanted to have the Ingaran’s suite opened for him.

“But I am only staying the night,” Ingwion protested. “I have to be in Valmar by week’s end. I do not need an entire suite to myself. Let me stay with Glorfindel, if he doesn’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Glorfindel said as he and Sador greeted one another, so the matter was settled and servants took the ellyn’s bags to Glorfindel’s apartments.

Glorfindel gave Sador a once over and smiled at what he saw. Over the last few years the ellon had become more and more confident and assured of himself, moving easily amongst the leaders of the land with grace and wit. He still sported the single warrior’s braid. Glorfindel noticed that there was a depth of wisdom in the ellon’s eyes, wisdom and a sense of his own authority, an authority he was no longer afraid to wield.

“So, how have you been, hanno?” Glorfindel asked, throwing an arm around Sador’s shoulders.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Sador replied with a smile. “I see getting beaten up by Maiar warriors still agrees with you.”

Glorfindel laughed. “Only because I give as good as I get. I don’t think the Maiar have had so much fun in ages. They enjoy the challenge.”

Sador smiled. “And no doubt they are lined up just for the privilege of being bloodied by you.”

“Eönwë has them make appointments,” Glorfindel retorted with a smirk and everyone around him laughed.

Entering the area of the palace set aside for the royal family, Glorfindel and Ingwion excused themselves to Arafinwë and Eärwen to freshen up from their journey. Sador went with them and the three ellyn spent some time catching up on each other’s news.

“Beleg has finally received his first mate’s ticket,” Sador told them as Glorfindel changed into a fresh tunic while Ingwion was washing the dust of travel from his face.

“That is good news,” Glorfindel said. “I’m surprised that Falmaron didn’t tell me.”

“He was already on his way to Aewellond by then and won’t know about it until he reaches Alqualondë,” Sador replied.

“Which means that Beleg will be hounding him to let him come with him on his next mapping expedition to the South,” Ingwion said with a chuckle as he dried himself off and reached for his own fresh tunic.

“That was the deal,” Sador said with a nod. “And it makes sense, when you think about it. This will be the first time that Falmaron will be mapping south of Aman. Beleg is still one of the best scouts and trackers around.”

“What about Vondo?” Glorfindel asked. “Is he going on the expedition as well?”

Sador nodded, giving them a bright smile. “He’s been nagging Herendil, Findaráto and, for all I know, every Maia in Lórien about it.”

“Lord Irmo still hasn’t allowed him to leave Lórien, has he?” Glorfindel enquired with a shake of his head.

“According to Findaráto, the ellon still has... um... authority issues.”

“I can imagine,” Glorfindel said with a knowing smile, “but I also know that Vondo is almost as good a tracker as Beleg. I think such a trip as this will mature him far more rapidly than keeping him in Lórien when all his Reborn friends are leaving for their own lives.”

“So Herendil says, and I think Lord Irmo has merely been keeping Vondo in Lórien to increase his frustration level.”

Both Ingwion and Glorfindel gave the younger ellon disbelieving looks. Sador nodded. “The more frustrated Vondo gets, the more determined he is to leave, but he gave his oath that he would not leave Lórien without permission, so he has been sublimating his frustration into improving his tracking skills. I got a letter from Findaráto telling me that the Maiar have been taking him on overnight expeditions into the Pelóri and testing his mettle and his ability to follow orders. Every time he fails to do so, his privileges are withdrawn for a time, which just increases his frustration, but at the same time forces him to do better in following orders. I have no doubt that when Falmaron is ready to set sail for the South, Lord Irmo will allow Vondo to accompany him, assured that the ellon will be able to follow orders and not go off on his own, which is what he likes to do.”

Both Glorfindel and Ingwion nodded. “Well, I am planning to go to Lórien and visit our háno, so perhaps I will join Vondo in one of his expeditions into the mountains.” He gave them a wicked look. “Let’s see how he stands up to my training regimen.”

The other two laughed and then they went to join Arafinwë, Eärwen and Amarië for tea.

****

Netilmírë joined them for dinner in the royal family’s private dining room that evening, spending more time complaining about the incompetence, stupidity and downright intransigence of her fellow guildmasters than she did in actually eating. The others let her have her say, with Sador and Arafinwë occasionally adding their own barbed comments. At some point, when Glorfindel innocently asked her why she didn’t just quit the Guildmasters’ Council if she hated her fellow council members so much, she gave him a startled look.

“I never said that,” she exclaimed. “At least, I don’t think I did.” She looked around at the amused faces of the others and reddened slightly. “Did I?”

Arafinwë laughed out loud, Sador and Ingwion snickered and Eärwen leaned over and placed a comforting hand on the elleth’s arm. “Not in so many words dear,” she said with a smile, “but if we didn’t know you as we do, we would wonder.”

“I guess I got a bit carried away,” Netilmîrë muttered, now looking embarrassed.

“My dear, you have never been known for your tact,” Arafinwë said. “They still talk about the day you sent a Maia packing and pretty much told the Valar where they could go and what they could do with themselves when they arrived.”

Netilmírë groaned in dismay, hiding her face in her hands. “That was a younger, stupider me,” she said.

“Well Anammë has learned some tact since then, I think,” Sador said with a deadpan expression. When the others gave him enquiring looks, he nodded, his eyes now twinkling with humor. “At least she waited until after the meeting to lambast her fellow guildmasters instead of telling them what she thinks of them to their faces.”

There were chuckles all around, though Netilmírë’s expression was still rueful. Eärwen was about to make a comment when a page entered the dining room and went to Arafinwë, speaking to him softly. Arafinwë gave the elleth a surprised look and nodded. “Have him come,” he ordered and the page bowed and left. The king turned to the others with a bemused look. “We have a guest,” he said but before anyone could ask him to clarify that statement, the door opened.

“Olórin!” Glorfindel cried as he and the others rose to give the Maia their greeting.

The Maia smiled and opened his arms to welcome the ellon and gave him a brief hug. “It is good to see you again, Glorfindel. I have heard much about you from my fellow Maiar.”

“Lies, all lies,” Glorfindel quipped and everyone laughed.

“To what do we owe the honor of your visit, my lord?” Arafinwë asked politely when the laughter had died.

“I have a message for Lady Netilmírë,” Olórin answered.

The elleth in question looked surprised. “A message? For me?”

“Yes, my dear,” the Maia said with a gentle smile. “Actually, the message is for all of you.” He looked at Ingwion. “You are on your way to meet your parents, are you not?”

Ingwion nodded. “I am planning to leave at first light.”

“Then perhaps you would not mind some company,” Olórin said. “I have been instructed by my Masters to convey to you their desire that you all come to Valmar with Ingwion.”

“And why should we do this?” Arafinwë asked. “And why wait until now to issue the invitation? I cannot just run off and leave Tirion without making provisions for my absence. For how long will we be away?”

Olórin gave the king an amused look. “You should do this because it is asked of you, Pityahuan. And I was waiting for Glorfindel to arrive to give you the message. I hate repeating myself. And as for how long, I would guess at the outside, two weeks, but probably closer to three. I am sure the people of Tirion can get along without their king and queen for that long. Your Privy Council can handle whatever needs handling until your return.”

“Such short notice,” Eärwen said with an exasperated sigh. “We’ll be up all night packing if we are to leave with Ingwion in the morning.”

“You may delay your journey and leave the day after tomorrow and still be in Valmar in good time,” the Maia told them.

“And the Valar want all of us to come?” Sador asked.

“Well, no,” Olórin admitted. “Specifically, the invitation is for you, Netilmírë, Arafinwë and Eärwen to join with Ingwion, but I doubt Glorfindel would want to miss out and Lady Amarië is welcome to come if she wishes.” He gave her a warm smile.

“But why?” Ingwion asked, sounding both frustrated and confused. “The message I received only said for me to meet my family in Valmar by a specific date, but there was no reason given. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the message was from Atar and that it was delivered by no less a personage than Lord Ulmo’s Chief Maia, I would have been highly reluctant to comply, as I was already making plans to visit Olwen and her family for a few weeks.”

“The reason will become clear when you reach Valmar,” Olórin said. “Until then, there is naught that I can say, except that none of you will regret the journey.”

Arafinwë looked at Eärwen and shrugged. “I have never known the Valar to act capriciously. I will send for Herendil and Selmacas. They can keep an eye on things while we’re away.”

“Even if we delay our setting out until the day after tomorrow, there is much that needs to be done,” Eärwen said with a nod. “I will start packing tonight. Amarië, Netilmírë, will you assist?”

“Of course,” Netilmírë said and Amarië nodded. “My main concern is the Guilds’ Council. How can I just up and leave in the middle of it?”

“A summons by the Valar cannot be ignored, my dear,” Olórin said, giving her a knowing smile.

“Hmph. Well, opinions differ on that score,” she retorted but then she smiled back and nodded. “As I am the head of the Guilds’ Council this term, I can suspend all meetings during my absence, though I am reluctant to do so. I think I will simply delegate my authority to another and let them carry on without me.”

“Then I will leave you all to it,” Olórin said, giving them a bow and then he was not there, with only the faintest scent of asëa aranion and rosemary lingering in the air.

For a moment they just sat there staring at one another, then Arafinwë pulled himself together and summoned a page. Soon he was having messages sent to Lords Herendil and Selmacas to meet with him in the morning. Eärwen also began speaking to Netilmírë and Amarië about the logistics of packing on such short notice and the three ellith excused themselves. Arafinwë did the same, deciding he had better see to some paperwork that needed to be dealt with before their departure, thus leaving Glorfindel, Ingwion and Sador to their own devices.

The three ellyn sat there in silence for a time. Finally, Sador spoke, his expression bland. “Well, I guess that’s just more dessert for us, then.”

There was a split second in which none of them moved, and then they were racing each other to the sideboard where the dessert was. Naturally, Glorfindel got to it first.

****

Words are Quenya.

Nuru olca lá umbar: ‘A death worse than fate’; literally, ‘A death bad/evil beyond fate’. This is the attested Elvish comparative form.

Rómenhópa: East Harbor.

Aulendurë: Feminine of Aulendur ‘Servant of Aulë’ an attested title, sc. one who was devoted to that Vala. It was applied especially to those persons, or families, among the Noldor who actually entered Aulë’s service and in return received instruction from him [see ‘The Shibboleth of Fëanor’, Note 61, Peoples of Middle-earth, HoME XII].

Neuna Cáno: Second Cáno, what we might call the Lieutenant Governor.

Note: Hanstovánen appears only once in the Book of Lost Tales I, ‘The Flight of the Noldoli’, HoME I, without translation. It was where ‘a servant of Vefantur’, i.e. Námo, spied the fleeing Noldor and begged them to return to Aman. When they refused, he ‘foretold to them many of the evil adventures that came after to them.’ This is the germ of that part of the ‘Flight of the Noldor’ found in the Quenta Silmarillion that later became known as the Prophecy of the North. I have borrowed the name of the place but not its location or significance with respect to the Histories.