Chapter the Second:

In Which Invitations are Sent and the Valar are Amused

Queen Eärwen was in her study, checking a list against a pile of invitations, ensuring herself that the name on the envelope was properly written. It was mid-morning on the fifth day of Lotessë and the birds were merrily chirping outside. Dipping her quill into the inkwell, she then placed a tick next to the name that was on one of several sheets of parchment before her and carefully placed the envelope in one of the wicker baskets that graced the other side of her desk. Before each basket was a placard with a placename written on it. In this case, she put the invitation in the basket labeled ‘Vanyamar’. Four other baskets were filled with invitations to be sent to Alqualondë, Eldamas, Tirion and the Southern Fiefdoms and Tol Eressëa. She sighed as she glanced at that last basket. It seemed fuller than the others. She gave a delicate snort and smiled. Her son, Findaráto, had made more friends among the Elves of Beleriand than he had ever done in Aman. Of course, many of those same Elves had once been his subjects.

She shook her head in wonder. Even after all this time, it was still hard for her to believe that Findaráto had been a king in his own right, ruling a mighty kingdom, a kingdom that by all accounts was greater than the three Amanian kingdoms combined, if one merely looked at ‘size’. Yet, in other ways, as well, she supposed her son’s kingdom had been greater, for it had not been given to him; he had had to carve it out — literally! — himself.

Well, sitting around thinking about her son’s achievements wasn’t going to get these invitations sent out. She gave herself a mental shake and picked up the next envelope, read the name and, glancing through her list until she found it, placed a tick next to it and put the envelope in the Tol Eressëa pile. Even as she began to choose another envelope, she heard a knock on the door. Resisting a sigh, she called out, "Enter!" trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

The door opened and two pairs of eyes — one bright blue, the other grey-blue — peeked around the door and she smiled warmly, gesturing for their owners to come in.

"Are we disturbing you, Ammë?" Finrod asked as Glorfindel, his partner in crime, closed the door behind them.

"Yes you are," Eärwen said, still smiling as she returned the quill to its holder, "but I welcome the distraction," she added when she saw the crestfallen looks on her sons’ faces, for she thought of Glorfindel as much her son, albeit adopted, as was Findaráto. "Was there something you wanted?"

Both ellyn shrugged, their expressions identically noncommital, looking for all the world like overgrown elflings. Eärwen raised a delicate eyebrow and gave them both a shrewd look. "Out with it, my children. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing’s wrong," Finrod replied shortly, "and everything’s wrong." He plopped down on a nearby chair with a huff, running a hand through his silver-gold locks. Glorfindel gave his brother a sympathetic look and sat in another chair.

Eärwen took a moment to gauge her son’s mood. Findaráto had been acting withdrawn of late, she now realized. Even the arrival of Glorfindel a month earlier than planned had only lightened his mood temporarily. She had been rather busy herself with wedding details. Normally, such details would be handled by the bride’s family, but Findaráto was a prince of the realm and having the higher rank meant that the onus of the wedding plans fell upon the Noldorin royal family instead of Amarië’s family. Not that Lady Almáriel was not contributing, but she was safely in Vanyamar and out of Eärwen’s hair. As far as the Queen of the Noldor was concerned, the only thing Almáriel needed to do was to ensure that her daughter arrived in Tirion in a timely manner. The rest she could take care of herself.

"Please, Finda, tell me what’s wrong," she finally pleaded. "You’ve been withdrawn and moody for weeks now. I thought when Glorfindel arrived things would get better for you."

"As did I," Glorfindel said, giving Finrod a hard look.

Finrod had the grace to blush, knowing his actions of late had been less than sterling. "The wedding is only weeks a way...."

"Seven weeks, three days and about two hours," Glorfindel said helpfully.

Finrod scowled at him and Eärwen hid a smile.

"The point is, Ammë," Finrod said, "I... I miss Amarië and I’m feeling... irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? In what way?" Eärwen asked.

"In every way, Ammë!" Finrod exclaimed in frustration. "It’s my wedding but no one seems to care what I think about it."

"Oh?" Eärwen gave her son a skeptical look.

Finrod nodded. "Every time I try to make a suggestion, offer an opinion, or even offer to help with preparations, I get told — politely, of course — that my opinions or my help is neither wanted nor appreciated."

"I’m sure...."

"I’m not even allowed to make a decision as to what clothes I’ll wear!" Finrod exclaimed in frustration, ignoring his ammë’s attempt to comment. "It’s my wedding, or at least I’m assuming it is. Lately I’ve had my doubts as to just who’s getting married the way everyone is ignoring me, the groom!"

"I’m sorry, dear," Eärwen said apologetically. "I was unaware that you were being shut out of the decision-making process. Traditionally, the groom is only required to show up." She gave them a sly smile and Glorfindel at least snorted in amusement. Finrod simply glowered. "Your atar has wisely stayed out of it all," she added, tilting her head to the left as she contemplated her son. "I think it was just assumed that you as the groom would want to... not be any more involved than necessary."

"Well, they’ve all assumed wrong," Finrod retorted, standing up and going to one of the embrasures to look out onto the orangery, full of fruit, its spicy scent permeating the air. He turned back to look at his ammë. "Honestly, I’ve had to make far more important and life-changing decisions in my days as a king than deciding if I want to wear a blue tunic or a white one, but at least letting me make such a decision allows me the pretense of believing that I’m being useful. At this point I’m ready to go back to Lórien and will return on the evening before the wedding because my presence here is obviously unwanted and unappreciated."

Eärwen cast a look at Glorfindel, who merely raised an amused eyebrow, yet she could see how troubled he was and she knew from past experience that a troubled Glorfindel was a dangerous Glorfindel; there was no telling what mischief he might get himself — and others — into. She sighed and rose, going to her first-born and giving him a hug. "I see we have all underestimated you... again, my son. I apologize."

Finrod allowed himself to be hugged and gave a small sigh of contentment. He was long past the elfling stage even if one included his time as a recent Reborn, but he decided no one was ever too old for a hug from their ammë.

Eärwen looked at her son, brushing a loving hand through his hair and smiling. "As Glorfindel so correctly pointed out, there are seven more weeks before the wedding. Perhaps we can find things for you to do. There is still quite a bit that has yet to be done and the pressure will only increase as the day draws nearer. I think we will need all the help we can get if we are to pull this off." She gave Finrod a sly smile. "After all, we don’t want to... um... disappoint Lady Almáriel, do we?"

Glorfindel actually barked a laugh and Finrod smiled slightly, his posture less stiff and gave his ammë a shy nod.

"Good," Eärwen said briskly, turning back to her desk. "Well, let’s see...."

A knock on the door interrupted her and this time she did sigh in frustration. Then nodded to Finrod who went and opened it to reveal Arafinwë standing there looking apologetic. "I know how busy you are, dear," he said as he strode into the room, barely nodding to the two ellyn in acknowledgment as he approached his wife and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, "but I’m afraid I must ask your indulgence."

"What is it?" Eärwen asked, curiously, knowing full well that her husband would indeed not take her away from her own work unless absolutely necessary.

"Something’s come up," Arafinwë said, casting a look at the two ellyn looking on, both of them naturally curious. "Perhaps we can discuss this in my study," he said pointedly, giving his wife a significant look.

She raised an eyebrow but nodded in acquiescence. "I will be along in a moment," she said. " I was about to give our sons a small task as they are feeling a bit useless at the moment."

Arafinwë merely gave her another peck on the cheek. "Don’t be long." He gave his son and Glorfindel another nod and left, closing the door behind him.

For a second or two no one moved. Then Finrod stirred, frowning slightly. "I wonder what Atto is up to?"

"I’m sure I don’t know dear," Eärwen said with a slight smile, "though I will no doubt find out. In the meantime, these invitations still need to be checked. Would you mind doing this for me? All you have to do is check the name on the envelope with this list." She held up the sheets of parchment with the names written on it. "Mark off the name and then place the envelope in the correct pile."

"I guess we could do that," Finrod said with a shrug, looking doubtfully at Glorfindel, who shrugged in return.

Eärwen gave them a knowing look. "I know you were thinking of doing something more... glamorous, but truly this is an important task and as you can see I have not trusted any but myself to do it properly."

Both ellyn gave her considering looks and then Finrod nodded. "Then we would be honored to help, Ammë."

"Good," the queen said. "Now, you will see that I have several baskets all labeled. Just make sure the invitations are placed in the correct basket. It won’t do for an invitation meant to go to Vanyamar to end up in Alqualondë."

Both ellyn chuckled as Eärwen left. Finrod went over to the desk and looked at the list of names, then looked up at Glorfindel. "Why don’t you read the name off the envelope and I’ll check it on here?" he suggested and Glorfindel agreed. The ellon moved around to the other side of the desk while Finrod took the seat his ammë had vacated. Glorfindel picked up an envelope and read off the name. Finrod looked down the list until he found it and nodded. "Vanyamar," he said, reading the small script next to the name and Glorfindel dutifully placed it in the correct basket. Then he picked up the next invitation and they went through the process all over again. For a while they continued to work, the pile of invitations slowly diminishing as the baskets became fuller and fuller, but at some point, Finrod stopped, glancing through the several sheets of parchment on which the names had been written.

"What’s wrong?" Glorfindel asked a little worriedly. "Did we mess up?"

Finrod shook his head. "No. We’ve been doing everything properly," he assured the ellon. "I’ve just noticed something odd."

"What’s that?" Glorfindel asked, leaning over to look at the list of names.

"The Valar aren’t listed," Finrod answered, carefully looking over the several sheets of names. "I don’t think they’re going to get invitations."

Glorfindel gave him a surprised look. "Well, perhaps it’s just assumed...."

Finrod looked up from his perusal. "Why? Because they’re the Valar? They didn’t come to Ingwion and Olwen’s wedding, remember? I think it’s because they weren’t formally invited, though everyone assumed they would appear."

Glorfindel gave him a considering look and then nodded. "Perhaps you’re right." Then his expression turned sly. "Do you really want to invite them all to the wedding?"

"Why not?" Finrod asked in surprise. "Are they not, after all, our neighbors? Do we not share Aman with them? This is their home after all, more so than it ever was ours."

Glorfindel nodded, then started looking around the desk. "Do you suppose there are extra invitations that we can use?"

Finrod joined him in the search but they found no invitations other than what were already in the envelopes ready to be sent.

"We’ll have to make up our own invitations," Finrod suggested.

Glorfindel did not argue with him, but checked for blank sheets of parchment or vellum. "So should we send a single invitation inviting them all or have each receive an invitation?"

"Well, writing out a single invitation would be easier," Finrod said, "but I think it would be more proper to send each of them an invitation. Tell you what. Why don’t you write the invitations while I continue working on these? We’ll put the Valar’s invitations in with those going to Eldamas."

Glorfindel nodded. "I’ll just take one of these invitations to use as a model." So saying, he removed one of the unchecked invitations from the pile and gathering the necessary paraphernalia he moved over to a smaller desk and settled himself, carefully uncapping the ink and filling his quill. He pulled out the invitation and smoothed it out and began copying the wording as carefully as he could. He didn’t get too far when he made a mistake and muttered an oath. Finrod, who had been working on the other invitations looked up.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Glorfindel shook his head. "No. It’s just the wording of the invitation is so convoluted."

"Just do your best," Finrod said.

"Don’t you think we should just ask for more invitations to be done up?" Glorfindel retorted.

Finrod shook his head. "I don’t think there would be time. I know Ammë wants these invitations to go out with the couriers and they set out later this afternoon."

Glorfindel sighed and took up a new sheet of parchment to try again, but as before, he only got a little further along in copying the wording when he accidently smeared part of what he’d already written so carefully. Again, he muttered an oath. "This is useless," he cried. "I’m never going to get even one finished, never mind fourteen."

Finrod started to answer when they both looked up at the sound of running feet and then there was a frantic pounding on the door. Before either of them could call out, the door flung open to reveal a scared looking Vorondil.

"Vorondil, what....?" Finrod started to ask.

"It’s Uncle Vondo," the young ellon replied, his eyes wide with fear. "He’s having an... an episode."

Finrod nodded, putting the quill away and capping the inkwell and rising. "You continue working on those invitations, Glorfindel, and I’ll help with Vondo."

Glorfindel looked glum but did not argue as Finrod ushered Vorondil out the door and closed it. For a moment Glorfindel just stared at the door, then gave a shake of his head and went back to work, determined to get it right this time. But alas, he was three-quarters along when he misread a word and realized he would have to start all over again.

"Pui-en-orch!" he shouted as he crumpled up the offending piece of parchment and threw it across the room. He sat there in a funk, wondering what he was going to do. He stared at the invitation with its stilted and, to his mind, unnecessarily convoluted language. He thought about it for a long moment, wondering if the Valar would really mind not getting personal invitations. And then, he got an idea and he smiled to himself. Grabbing another piece of parchment, he started writing, ignoring the invitation that was sitting next to him. He quickly wrote out some words, gave them a critical examination, liked what he saw and smiled even more, placing the page carefully to one side to dry while he took up another piece of parchment and began writing the same words upon it. He started humming to himself as he worked and in no time at all he had fourteen invitations written out to his satisfaction.

He allowed the ink to dry on them while hunting for envelopes, which he found. They were not the same as those of the invitations, but he decided they would do. Carefully he wrote out the names of the Valar on the envelopes and when all the ink was dry, he neatly folded the sheets of parchment and slipped them into the envelopes and sealed them. Then he hunted some more and found a bit of blue ribbon with which he tied the bundle of invitations together and placed them in the basket for Eldamas.

Finrod had not yet returned and not knowing what else to do, Glorfindel decided to finish checking off the rest of the invitations. An hour later he put the last one into its proper basket, capped the ink, cleaned the quill and put it in its holder and then decided to go in search of his brother. Apparently poor Vondo had had a terrible memory experience and no doubt Finrod was still ministering to him. He left the queen’s study, humming to himself.

Eärwen returned to the study a while later with three who wore the insignia of the Royal Couriers on their tabards, each carrying courier pouches. She was pleased to see all the invitations done and reminded herself to thank her son and Glorfindel for their service even as she was directing the couriers to take up the invitations. One of her ladies-in-waiting appeared just then and distracted her with a question so she did not see the courier assigned to deliver the invitations to Eldamas and Vanyamar pick up the bundle tied with blue ribbon. The courier read the name written on the top envelope and raised a delicate eyebrow, but said nothing, merely placing the bundle in with the others bound for Eldamas. In moments he and the other two couriers were all on their way to their respective destinations.

****

Valmar, three days later....

Eönwë, Herald of Manwë, entered one of the smaller receiving rooms in the Elder King’s mansion in Valmar where all the Valar were gathered for an informal meeting to discuss the latest news from the Outer Lands. The Valar broke off their conversation as Eönwë approached and gave them his obeisance.

"My lord, forgive the interruption," he said, speaking directly to Manwë, "but a courier from Tirion brought these." He held out the bundle of invitations still wrapped in blue ribbon and Manwë took them from him with a smile.

"Ah, so they didn’t forget us," he said with delight.

"And separate invitations. How thoughtful," Varda said with approval.

The Valar all gathered around Manwë as he undid the ribbon and began handing out the invitations and Eönwë, momentarily forgotten by all, stood watching them with amusement, for they were as eager as elflings about to be given a treat. He watched Lord Námo especially, for the Lord of Mandos often was shunned by the Children and Eönwë knew how much that hurt the Vala, though he rarely showed it. Lord Námo’s eyes glittered with excitement as he carefully opened the envelope and drew out the invitation and began reading it. Then Eönwë noticed the Vala’s expression turning to puzzlement and then he was looking over his lady wife’s shoulder to read Vairë’s invitation. Eönwë suddenly realized that the room had gone silent and all the Valar were staring at their invitations with expressions of confusion. He saw Varda and Manwë compare their invitations and then all of them were doing the same. Curious as to what was wrong, Eönwë moved closer to his lord and surreptitiously looked over Manwë’s shoulder and began reading the invitation, barely able to suppress a laugh.

There in bold but neatly written tengwar was the following:

‘PLEASE COME TO FINROD’S WEDDING. THANK YOU.’

Then scrawled at the bottom, almost as an afterthought, were two more words:

‘LOVE, GLORFINDEL’

Manwë gave them a slightly sardonic look. "Well, as I once remarked, he’s polite if nothing else."

That set all of them laughing.

"So they did forget us after all," Yavanna said once they calmed down, her expression wistful as she stared at the invitation in her hands. Others had equally bittersweet expressions as they realized the implications of these particular invitations being sent.

"Not everyone," Námo pointed out, holding up his invitation, giving them a smile. "And personally, I treasure this invitation more than whatever formal invitation might have been sent instead, for it was indeed sent with love and says all that is needed to be said."

The others agreed and their expressions lightened. Then the discussion turned to what gifts they would give the happy couple.

"What did we do with the gifts we were originally going to give?" Námo asked Vairë.

His wife gave him a surprised look and then nodded. "I believe I put ours away for safekeeping, knowing eventually they would marry."

"I did the same for ours," Varda said and the others all said the same.

"Well, at least we won’t have to think up a whole new batch of gifts," Manwë said with a twinkle in his eyes. "And if we don’t tell them their gifts from us came from the attic..."

They all laughed at that and once they calmed down again, Manwë suggested they continue their previous discussion. Eönwë was invited to stay and the Maia couldn’t help noticing that even as the Valar spoke of events beyond the borders of Aman, each of them continued to hold their invitations, occasionally glancing down as if to re-read the words, smiling slightly, before rejoining the conversation.

****

Words are Quenya unless otherwise noted:

5 Lotessë: 12 May.

Ammë: Hypocoristic form of Amillë: Mother.

Atar: Father. The hypocoristic form is Atto.

Pui-en-orch: (Sindarin) Orc-spit, Glorfindel’s favorite curse word.

Note: The Valarin/Eldarin week in Aman was six days in length. The seven-day week, according to Tolkien, was an invention of the Númenóreans, later adopted by the inhabitants of Middle-earth but not in Aman. The names of the days of the week are: Elenya, Anarya, Isilya, Aldúya, Menelya, and Valanya, which was the ‘High-day’, equivalent to our Sabbath-day, however you wish to interpret it.