Chapter the Fourth:

In Which Information is Gathered and Further Plans are Made

Finrod, Glorfindel, Vondo and Vorondil met the next morning in the prince’s study and pored over their copy of the list, trying to decide what could be done by them but they were still unsure how to go about ‘butting in’, as Glorfindel put it.

Finrod was reluctant to take over without his ammë’s approval.

"The queen’s approval but not the king’s?" Vondo asked, giving Finrod a significant look.

Finrod just shrugged. "Atar is very happy to stay out of it all."

"Well, this list just gives us an idea of the things that your ammë thinks needs doing without giving any details of what she or others have decided," Glorfindel pointed out. "For instance, it says here ‘consult with head cook’ but it says nothing about the menu itself. Same with decorations, music and everything else."

"Do you suppose she’s kept separate notes about these?" Vorondil asked.

Finrod shrugged. "If so, there is no way for us to... um... borrow them." He gave Vondo a quelling look when it appeared as if the ellon was all set to commit burglary again and the ellon subsided, looking glum.

"What we need to do is find out who is in charge of what and speak to them personally," Glorfindel suggested. "We can say that the queen sent us because she was busy with something else."

Finrod nodded. "That might work," he said slowly, thinking it out. "I want to know what decisions have been finalized and which are still in debate. I may go along with anything that has already been decided to everyone else’s satisfaction, if not mine, but I do think my input should be allowed where decisions are still up in the air."

"Well, I suppose what we could do is split the list up among us and each of us find out who’s in charge of what and what has already been decided. Then we can go on from there," Glorfindel suggested.

Finrod nodded in agreement and glanced down the list. "Well, I had better check with the seamstresses about my wedding garb. I see Ammë has a note to that effect and I’m rather curious to know what they’ve come up with as I’ve not been allowed to even see which fabrics are being used."

"Why not?" Vorondil asked in confusion. "What’s the big mystery? It’s only clothes."

Even Vondo smiled indulgently at that. "Apparently they want to coordinate my garb with Amarië’s and I’m not needed for that until they are ready for the fitting," Finrod replied. "At any rate, I will also talk with the musicians. Glorfindel, why don’t you see about the decorations, Vondo, you and Vorondil can see about the menu."

"Ooh goody," Vorondil exclaimed. "I hope they’re planning to bake lots of cookies." His eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Do you think they’ll make ginger biscuits? Those are my favorite."

Finrod raised an amused eyebrow. "You’re only going to see if a menu has already been decided, nothing more," he reminded the younger ellon. "Time enough to decide which cookies they will make later on." He looked at Glorfindel and Vondo. "So, you know your assignments? Good. Let’s go." He stood and headed for the door and the others followed, splitting up when they reached a juncture in the hallway to go their separate ways.

****

Finrod made his way through the more public areas of the palace where many of the government offices were located. Somewhere in the warren of small rooms was the Head Seamstress’ office, a Mistress Cucualindë who was a no-nonsense elleth known throughout the kingdom for her tailoring and embroidering skills. Her office was on the second floor but she was often found in what was commonly known as the Sewing Room, a large sunny room situated at the top of one of the nearby towers where there was plenty of light for the work that needed doing. Finrod was making his way there, having ascertained that Mistress Cucualindë was not in her office. He entered the tower and climbed the stairs, coming out at the top to a scene of quiet industry as several ellith and even a few ellyn were hunched over their work. They all looked up to see who was there and not a few gave gasps of surprise to see their prince. One or two started to rise, but Finrod waved them down with a smile.

"I’ve only come to speak with Mistress Cucualindë," he said.

"And what can I do for you, Prince Findaráto?" Mistress Cucualindë asked, stepping forward from where she was consulting one of the ellyn on fabric selection. She was shorter than was typical of the Noldor, though still taller than most Teleri. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than the norm among the Noldor, almost a honey color, and her eyes were grey, suggesting a mixed ancestry. She was older than Finrod, for he well remembered her as an apprentice seamstress when he was an elfling.

He gave her his most winning smile. "Ammë meant to speak with you about my wedding garb," he said and was relieved when the elleth nodded, "but she’s a bit busy at the moment and as I was not doing anything in particular I said I would stop by and see how things were progressing."

Mistress Cucualindë raised an eyebrow and Finrod wondered if she knew he was lying and he waited tensely for her to send him packing, but she only nodded and gestured for him to follow her across the room.

"We’ve finally agreed on the fabrics and colors," she said to him, going to a cupboard that stood against one wall and opening it, pulling out several bolts of fabric and laying them on a nearby cutting table. "And we’ve agreed on the cut," she continued, "after much consultation with Lady Almáriel’s seamstress." She gave a sniff of disdain and Finrod hid a smile, for it was obvious that Mistress Cucualindë was not impressed with Lady Almáriel’s seamstress.

Finrod eyed the bolts of cloth with dismay. The colors seemed... wrong to him. There was a pale rose satin and yellow-green brocade, each of which was lovely in itself, but together.... He suppressed a shiver.

"May I see what designs you’ve made?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Mistress Cucualindë gave him a shrewd look. "The colors are those that will be worn by the bride," she said. "I know they don’t look as if they will go together, but believe me, Highness, they will."

Finrod simply nodded. "The sketches," he said and the Head Seamstress sighed and pulled out several pages of foolscap and laid them on the table next to the fabric. Finrod glanced at the drawings without really seeing them, resisting a sigh. He had wanted his friend, Morwen, to put his wedding garb together and had even promised her that she could, but for some reason his ammë had decided that it would be better if the palace seamstresses did the work.

"Your friend does lovely work, there’s no denying that," she had told him when he protested her decision, "but it’s rather impractical for her to be on Tol Eressëa while you’re here, and however would we coordinate with Almáriel who has her own ideas?"

Finrod decided it wasn’t worth arguing about and let it go, but now, looking at what had been determined without his input he decided to take matters into his own hands without his ammë or Mistress Cucualindë being the wiser. He took a closer look at the drawings and tried not to grimace. They, of course, reflected the height of fashion, but again, they seemed wrong to him. He remembered the robes he’d worn in Nargothrond, the style reflecting a pleasing blend of Sindarin and Noldorin sensibilities. Morwen would know what he meant by that but none of the people working in this room would have a clue.

"After much debate," Mistress Cucualindë said, "we’ve decided that this style will go well with Lady Amarië’s garb." She pointed to one of the sketches and Finrod dutifully nodded.

"How far have you gotten?" he asked.

"Oh, we won’t start cutting for another week," the elleth informed him. "Your garb is the least of our concerns and will not take as long to finish as others."

"Others?" Finrod asked.

Mistress Cucualindë nodded, giving him a faint smile. "Your lady amillë’s gown is more elaborate than your own garb, Highness. Would you like to see?"

"Ah, no, thank you, Mistress," Finrod said hastily. "As it is, I have other appointments to keep. Thank you for your time." He gave her a short bow and made a polite farewell to everyone there, exiting as quickly as courtesy allowed. He made his way to his own study and went to the writing desk, pulling out some sheets of vellum and sharpening a quill. He spent a few minutes gathering his thoughts before putting pen to paper. Once the letter was written, he re-read it, nodding in satisfaction, then put it aside and wrote a second letter, this one somewhat shorter. He threw drying sand over both letters and sealed them, carefully writing the names on the front. Then he took the letters and walked back to the administrative area of the palace until he found the Royal Courier’s office. Inside, he spoke briefly with the ellon who was manning the office that day, handing over the letters. The courier assured him the letters would be sent within the hour. Satisfied that he’d done what he could, Finrod went in search of Mistress Lindissë of the Guild of Musicians whom he knew had been put in charge of the music for the wedding, wondering how Glorfindel, Vondo and Vorondil were faring.

****

Glorfindel wasted some time trying to track down the person ultimately charged with seeing to the decorations for the wedding. No one seemed to know just who that person was. Some said one name, others another and not a few just gave him a blank stare when he asked. He wondered if in fact anyone had yet been designated for the role, which made sense as far as he was concerned. After all, what exactly had to be done? A few flowers here and there, perhaps a garland of ribbons and what more did you need?

After asking the seventh — or was it the eighth? — person among the palace staff about who was in charge of decorations and getting no satisfactory answer, he decided to wander through the palace gardens instead. Obviously he wasn’t going to get very far in his search. He would have to take it up with Finrod. Perhaps they could just plan out the decorations themselves.

He made his way past the orangery and the main kitchen herb garden and wended his way to one of the lower gardens to his favorite spot where he liked to go and think. It was somewhat secluded from the rest of the gardens, reached by means of a short tunnel created by tall yews. The tunnel opened up into a small garden of wildflowers growing around a pond where colorful fish swam. A tall yew hedge surrounded the garden on all four sides, effectively hiding it from the rest of the gardens. There were a couple of benches beside the pond and nothing else. Glorfindel doubted the gardeners bothered too much with this little garden, allowing it to run wild as it would, though safely contained. He didn’t think too many people even came here, which suited him just fine.

He sat on one of the benches, idly glancing around, noticing the fish swimming endlessly in the pond, watching some bees moving gracefully from one flower to another collecting nectar, listening to the quiet chirping of redwings flitting high above on business of their own. The sun was warm and the air redolent with the heady perfume of spring flowers and he took a deep centering breath, slowly letting it out and closing his eyes, feeling himself relaxing.

He felt rather than heard someone enter the garden and stop. Opening his eyes, he turned to see one of the gardeners standing there looking a bit nonplused. Glorfindel smiled. "Don’t mind me," he said. "I’m just sitting here relaxing."

"I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here," the gardener said as he moved towards Glorfindel. "I apologize for disturbing you, my lord."

"You are not disturbing me," Glorfindel assured him. "I probably should be going anyway." He cast a knowing look at the sky, gauging the time from the sun’s position. "I need to find Prince Findaráto and tell him I failed in my quest." He gave the gardener a wry smile and the ellon raised an eyebrow.

"And what quest was that, my lord?" the gardener asked with a slight smile on his face.

"Trying to find out who’s in charge of the decorations for the upcoming wedding," Glorfindel answered readily enough as he stood. "Seems everyone thinks someone else is in charge and no one is willing to step forward and claim responsibility."

"Why do you need to....? Forgive me. I apologize for my presumption," the ellon said, giving Glorfindel a bow.

"As to that my friend," Glorfindel said without rancor, "Prince Findaráto wishes to know how the wedding preparations are going and asked me to look into it."

"Why not ask the Queen, then?" the gardener enquired.

"Ah.... well... um...."

The ellon gave Glorfindel a shrewd look. "I see... I think," he said. The ellon frowned in thought for a moment while Glorfindel stood there, not in any real hurry to leave the garden. Then the gardener’s face cleared and he smiled at the Elf-lord, giving him a slight bow. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Hallacar and I am the Chief Gardener for their Majesties."

"And I am Lord Glorfindel," the former Balrog Slayer replied, giving Hallacar his own bow.

"Oh, I know who you are, my lord," Hallacar said with a smile. Then he gestured toward the bench. "If you would like, I can tell you something of what you need to know."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know anything about wedding decorations?" he asked even as he resumed his seat, gesturing for Hallacar to join him, which he did.

"Well, as it just so happens, my wife, Terendulë...."

"Oh! She’s the Head Housekeeper for the royal apartments," Glorfindel exclaimed.

Hallacar nodded. "And she is also in charge of overseeing the decorations for the wedding, or at least, she will be."

"She doesn’t know?" Glorfindel asked with an amused look.

Hallacar laughed. "Oh, she knows all right, for the Queen asked her, but no one else is aware of it."

"Whyever not?" Glorfindel enquired in surprise.

Hallacar gave the Elf-lord a knowing smile. "My lord, have you ever been to a wedding?"

Glorfindel nodded.

"Have you ever witnessed the wedding preparations?"

Glorfindel nodded again, his memory taking him back to Gondolin and the weddings he witnessed there, especially Idril’s and Tuor’s.

Hallacar smiled even more broadly. "Do you recall any... um... disagreements over, shall we say, the details?"

Now Glorfindel’s eyes widened in understanding. "When Idril was getting married, two of her ladies-in-waiting got into an altercation with the cooks because they couldn’t agree on what the syllabub should be for the final remove of the wedding feast." He cast the gardener a brief, wintry smile. "Turgon... um... I mean Turucáno had to step in personally and physically pull the ladies apart from one another, with a bit of help from me and some others."

Hallacar laughed. "And that is why Terendulë asked the queen not to announce who was in charge of overseeing the decorations and other matters concerning the wedding. Too many cooks and all that."

Glorfindel nodded. "Yes, I quite see your point." He gave Hallacar a considering look. "Do you think that Terendulë would be willing to speak with me about what decisions she’s made so far? Findaráto feels he should be given some say in certain matters, considering it’s his wedding, after all."

"Yes, I can imagine that in all the excitement, everyone’s forgotten about the groom," Hallacar replied with a chuckle. From the ellon’s wistful expression Glorfindel suspected he was remembering his own wedding. Hallacar stood up. "I think something can be arranged. Perhaps you should simply have Prince Findaráto summon my wife to speak with her personally. As the Chief Housekeeper for the royal apartments she would not find it an unusual request and this way no one is the wiser."

"A good idea. Thank you," Glorfindel said, standing as well. "I should go and find Findaráto and let him know."

"Good luck," Hallacar said warmly. "It’s been my experience that when it comes to wedding preparations, the opinions of the ellyn are rarely welcomed by the ellith."

"Ah, and what about the opinions of a Prince?" Glorfindel countered, giving Hallacar a sly grin as he walked away, leaving the gardener standing there in bemusement.

****

Vorondil and his uncle made it only as far as the doorway of the royal kitchens before they were stopped by the Head Cook, a no-nonsense ellon who was somewhat humorless, especially where elflings and other intruders were concerned.

"Stop right there," the Head Cook demanded, holding up an imperious hand.

Both uncle and nephew halted in surprise. "We came...." Vondo started to say but the Head Cook did not give him a chance to finish his sentence.

"I know full well why you’ve come," he said with a snort. "If it’s not elflings or Reborn or both trying to sneak sweets and drinks and what-have-you from under my nose, it’s their Majesties deciding to change the menu at the last minute. You two can just turn yourselves around and find somewhere else to do your mischief. I’ve a feast to put on and no time for your silly games."

Vorondil just stood there gaping at the ellon and was ready to run, but Vondo, remembering earlier times when he wasn’t so unsure of things, drew himself up to his full height and stared at the Head Cook with an imperious look. "We’ve come on the business of his Highness, Prince Findaráto, and...."

"A likely story," the ellon said brusquely, clearly unconvinced. "Be off with you before I call the guards to drag you away."

Now even Vondo stood there gaping at the utter insolence of the fellow. After a moment of tense silence between them (and Vondo noticed that the other kitchen workers had stopped to watch them), Vondo grabbed his nephew’s arm and spun away, too incensed himself to say anything more. He never saw the satisfied smirk on the Head Cook’s face as they beat a hasty retreat, which is probably a good thing, for their Majesties might have had to look for another Head Cook otherwise.

"But I wanted to see if they were going to make ginger biscuits for the wedding," Vorondil wailed as he and Vondo continued back to Finrod’s apartments where they’d agreed to meet for lunch.

"Hush, Nephew," Vondo admonished the younger ellon. "We’ll let Prince Findaráto handle this. He will not be pleased." He cast Vorondil a wicked smile. "No. Our good Reborn prince will not be pleased at all," he added and Vorondil, catching on, gave his uncle a wicked smile of his own.

****

When Vondo and Vorondil arrived at Finrod’s suite, the prince was there with Glorfindel and Mistress Terendulë and several servants. Finrod gestured for the two to come in and take a seat at the table which was set for lunch. Mistress Terendulë was overseeing the laying out of dishes on the sideboard for Finrod preferred to serve himself. As the two ellyn sat, Vorondil started to speak, but Vondo whispered something in his ear and the younger ellon subsided. There was, in fact, no conversation between them as they waited for the servants to leave. Mistress Terendulë gave Finrod a curtsey as she prepared to leave herself when Finrod stayed her, asking her to close the door. If the elleth was surprised by the request, she gave no sign but did as she was bid.

"I won’t keep you long, Mistress," Finrod said, "as I know you have other duties, but I have learned that my amillë has put you in charge of overseeing certain aspects of the wedding?"

"Yes, Highness," she said, giving them a brief sigh, "though I had hoped to keep that information secret for a while longer."

"Have no fear about that," Finrod assured her. "That information will not leave this room. I only wanted to know what preparations you’ve already made, in particular, those having to do with the decorations. I have decided to take a more active role in the wedding plans, you see."

Mistress Terendulë raised a delicate eyebrow. "Odd. Usually the ellyn want nothing to do with it, content on letting the ellith handle all the details."

"Well, as you can guess, I’m not just any ellon," Finrod countered with a smile. "I’m the groom. I think I should be allowed to have some opinion about my own wedding."

The elleth smiled back. "Yes, of course. Well, to answer your question, I haven’t given it too much thought yet. I am waiting to hear from Lady Amarië as to her own wishes."

"You mean, Lady Almáriel’s wishes," Glorfindel couldn’t help interrupting, giving the Housekeeper a knowing grin. The others chuckled but Mistress Terendulë just shook her head.

"I meant what I said, my lord. I do not care what Lady Almáriel wants or does not want. It is not her wedding, but Lady Amarië’s... and yours, your Highness," she added with a smile, bobbing a curtsey towards Finrod. "So, if you have any preferences or ideas about decorations, where you would like the wedding to take place, even how you wish the feast hall to be set up, you just need to let me know and when I hear from Lady Amarië, I can share that information with you as well."

Finrod smiled broadly. "Thank you, Mistress. I appreciate your cooperation. I feared that you and everyone else involved in the wedding preparations would resent my... um... intrusion."

"Well, as you may have noticed, Highness, I’m not everyone," she replied with a sniff and that set the ellyn chuckling. "If there is nothing else...."

"No, Mistress. I will let you get on with your other duties. Thank you," Finrod said in dismissal and the elleth gave them all a deep curtsey and left.

Finrod stood up and went to the sideboard to fill his plate and the others followed. "It’s nice to know we have an ally among the staff," he commented as they resumed their seats and began eating. "I spoke with Mistress Lindissë of the Musician’s Guild. She was not too cooperative, at least not at first. I had to be a bit insistent that she tell me what music she had planned."

"Why was she reluctant to speak with you?" Glorfindel asked as he reached for some honey butter to spread on his roll.

"She said that at this late date it would be difficult to change the music which she and the other musicians have chosen," Finrod answered. He gave them a sardonic look. "It seems that these musicians need a lot of practice or something. The wedding is seven weeks away. You would think that they would have plenty of time to learn new music if necessary."

The others shrugged. "So what have you decided?" Vondo asked. "Is the music that’s been chosen appropriate?"

"Oh yes," Finrod replied, "but that is not to say it’s appropriate for my wedding."

"So what will you do?" Vorondil asked. "Will you have them learn new music? It doesn’t sound as if this Mistress Lindissë is going to like it, you dictating to her. Did Queen Eärwen choose the music?"

"I asked Lindissë that and she said that Ammë had left it to her to choose the music."

"Hmmm.... And will Ammë Eärwen approve of the selection when she hears it for the first time on the day of the wedding?" Glorfindel asked shrewdly.

Finrod smiled. "Now, that’s something I didn’t think about. Anyway, I have my own ideas about the music but I’m going to have to think about it a bit longer before I make any real decisions. The music Lindissë chose isn’t bad, it’s just not... me... or Amarië, at least I don’t think so. Well, anyway, let’s put music aside for the moment." He gestured to Vondo and Vorondil. "What did you learn about the menu?"

Vondo put his fork down and frowned. "Nothing. We were rather rudely and summarily sent packing without being given a chance to explain our errand. In fact the Head Cook was quite convinced that we were lying when I told him you’d sent us. I was this close to wiping the kitchen floor with the arrogant orc but decided you should have that privilege." He gave Finrod a knowing look and the prince raised an eyebrow.

"Well, why don’t we finish our lunch and then take a walk in the gardens... by way of the kitchens," he suggested with a bland expression on his face that fooled none of them.

Glorfindel raised his goblet of wine. "To battle," he said with a wide grin.

The others raised their own goblets. "To battle," they chimed.

"And maybe while we’re there we can sneak some ginger biscuits to munch on," Vorondil added with a grin and the others decided that was an excellent idea and spent a few minutes discussing strategy as they continued with their meal.

****

Note: Hallacar and Terendulë originally were mentioned by Finrod in In Darkness Bound, chapter 7, when Hallacar was only an apprentice gardener and Terendulë was a mere chambermaid in the royal palace. They were as yet unmarried.