Chapter the Tenth:

In Which a Menu is Discussed and Glorfindel Goes Fishing

After lunch was done and over with and Glorfindel and Finrod were dismissed, the two of them made their way to a remote corner of the gardens surrounding the palace where they were not likely to be interrupted and discussed how they might avenge themselves on the apprentices.

"Though I think Ailinel knows what’s going on," Glorfindel admitted, telling Finrod what the elleth had said to him.

Finrod raised an eyebrow and gave him a considering look. "You think more is going on than just us being punished with this kitchen assignment when a simple apology would have sufficed?"

Glorfindel shrugged, leaning against the poplar tree under which he was sitting. Finrod was facing him, sitting on the lip of a small pool that graced the garden, idly running his hand through the limpid water. "Possibly," he averred. "But I don’t like the idea of being a pawn in someone else’s battle, assuming our presence in the kitchen is part of someone else’s gambit."

"And by someone, you mean Atar," Finrod replied.

Again, Glorfindel shrugged but elected to remain silent, letting Finrod draw his own conclusions. Finrod stared into space, putting certain things together before nodding. "Things are not what they seem to be."

"They never are," Glorfindel snorted with faint amusement.

Finrod grinned. "In that case, we’ll continue playing the innocents. It’s just for another three days and then if I never see that blasted kitchen again it will be too soon."

"Do you think Isildil will be given back his position?" Glorfindel asked. "I have the feeling he’s plotting his own revenge against us, or rather, against you."

"I’ve been rather hoping Marilla would be asked to stay on, at least until after the wedding," Finrod admitted with a frown, "but I hesitate to bring it up to Atar, for it’s really not my place. Atar may decide to keep Isildil or not. That’s solely his prerogative."

"Well, we can live in hope," Glorfindel said with a sigh and then they moved on to other topics of interest, putting the problem of Isildil out of their minds for a time.

****

The next couple of days passed by quietly. Neither Glorfindel nor Finrod were required to clean out the ovens, though Finrod did spend one morning dressing the meat. Both ellyn were in a better frame of mind and generally did whatever task was given them with a good will and a ready smile. There were also no more mishaps with the food preparations, for which they were both grateful. On the evening before their last day in the kitchen, after they had completed their stint as servers for dinner and were ready to leave, Marilla told the two of them that she wished them to plan the menu for the next day’s dinner.

"I understand that a party from Vanyamar arrives tomorrow afternoon and their Majesties wish to feast them."

Finrod gave her a puzzled look. "Who’s coming?" he asked. "I don’t recall hearing anything about it and Uncle Ingwë and his family aren’t due to arrive for the wedding for some weeks yet."

"His Majesty didn’t say when he informed me," Marilla replied. "He did say he wished for the dinner to be simple, no more than three removes."

"I guess that’s easy enough," Glorfindel said. "You need a soup dish, a meat dish and a fish dish followed by a subtlety."

"That’s four removes, though," Finrod pointed out with a smile. Then he turned to Marilla. "How many will be attending this feast? I do find it odd that Atar wishes to have a welcoming feast. He usually postpones it until the following day after someone’s arrival to give them a chance to recover from their journey."

Marilla simply shrugged. "I am only telling you what I have been told. There are a total of ten in the Vanyarin party. Add that to the usual number that will be required to attend their Majesties for a minor feast, and..."

"Once you’ve determined the portions, increase the recipe by half to cover unforeseen contingencies," Finrod and Glorfindel chimed together, for they had heard that dictum drummed into the apprentices often enough during their time in the kitchen. Marilla beamed at them.

"So, decide on a soup and what meats will follow and the subtlety. I would advise that you keep everything simple. Generally, as Head Cook, I would’ve been given several days’ notice to plan the menu, but his Majesty elected, for reasons best known to himself, to wait until now to tell me and asked that you two put the menu together though he doesn’t expect you to do all the work."

"Well, that’s a relief, otherwise we would have to start now," Glorfindel said with a smirk.

"Check to see what is already on hand," Marilla told them, "and if we are lacking anything, I can send people to the markets first thing tomorrow."

So Finrod and Glorfindel wandered through the kitchen examining the cupboards and pantries to determine what was available and what they might serve this mysterious party from Vanyamar.

"I wish I knew who was coming," Finrod said at one point. "It would make deciding what courses to do much easier."

"Well, I think we have a decent enough menu," Glorfindel said, glancing at the notes he’d been making. "For the first remove we will have cassia chicken soup with bread, cheese and mushroom tarts. For the second remove we will begin with salomene over almond rice and a sallet, followed by a venison custard with frumenty and the final remove will be gingerbread and almond pudding."

"And we just have to select the wines to go with each course, though I think that is usually decided upon by Atar’s Butler," Finrod said, giving an enquiring glance at Marilla who had stood in the background watching them.

She nodded. "If you are satisfied with the menu, and I think it will do very well, then I will inform Lord Neldorion in the morning so he can make the appropriate selections."

The two ellyn glanced at each other and shrugged almost as one. "I suppose it will do," Finrod said somewhat hesitantly. "It’s not very fancy. I don’t want whoever is coming from Vanyamar to feel slighted."

"I doubt they will," Marilla said with a reassuring smile. "Now, off with you. I’ll have everything ready for you in the morning. Findaráto, since the venison custard was your idea, you can deal with that while Glorfindel prepares the salomene."

They nodded, wished the elleth a good evening and went on their way, both of them feeling very good about themselves.

****

The next morning, however, things did not go quite as planned.

"I rechecked our stores and we don’t have enough fish to make the salomene," Marilla told them as they reported to the kitchen as usual.

"So does that mean we have to change the menu?" Glorfindel asked with a sigh.

"That is one option, of course," Marilla said. "The other option is to go shopping for the fish."

"Will there be enough fish at the market, though?" Finrod asked. "It has to come from Alqualondë after all and I don’t think it comes every day."

"Most of our fish actually comes from the Southern Fiefdoms," Marilla replied, "and the type of fish we generally use for salomene is a freshwater fish anyway, so it matters not if any fish has been brought from Alqualondë."

"So will you be sending anyone to the markets?" Glorfindel asked.

Marilla smiled. "Yes, I will. Thank you for volunteering."

Glorfindel just gaped at her. "But I didn’t!"

"Oh yes you did, háno," Finrod said with a laugh.

Glorfindel sighed. "But I’m not allowed to leave the palace grounds," he pointed out, "except under escort."

Marilla nodded. "Yes, I know, but I did speak with the King last night and he gave his permission for you to go to the market."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow but decided not to dispute the elleth’s words. "So where do I go and how much do I purchase and what if there isn’t enough of the type of fish you’re looking for?"

"I’ll send Carnimir with you," Marilla assured him, naming one of the apprentice cooks who was nearly ready to be promoted to journeyman. "He will take you to where the fish can be bought and if there isn’t enough of one kind, he will know what can be appropriately substituted. Now, the market doesn’t open for another hour, so until then, help Findaráto with getting the venison ready for cooking."

So that is what they did, and when it was time to leave for the market, Marilla gave Carnimir a list of other things they would need.

"Though I’m surprised you just don’t order whatever is needed and have it sent," Glorfindel commented.

Marilla nodded. "Normally, that is what we would do, but occasionally it helps the apprentices and journeymen to go to the markets and see what is available and get a sense of how to shop for what is needed, especially since many of these here will go on to other households or take service at an inn once they have finished their apprenticeships. They will need to know how to shop and how to bargain."

She handed him a tabard with the emblem of the Cooks’ Guild sewn upon it and he donned it readily enough when he saw Carnimir donning his own tabard. "Off you go now," Marilla said, "and try to be back here before noon. Luckily the fish doesn’t take as long as the venison to cook so we won’t have to deal with them until after lunch."

"How much will we need?" Glorfindel asked and Marilla told him, indicating with her hands the approximate size needed.

Glorfindel gave her a brief bow, smiled at Finrod and gestured rather imperiously at Carnimir who simply shrugged good-naturedly and followed the balrog-slayer out.

****

The sun was just making her appearance, sending golden-pink rays down the cleft of the Calacirya as Glorfindel and Carnimir reached the fish market. In spite of the early hour it was already bustling with activity as merchants put their wares out and shoppers went from stall to stall to see what was available that morning. Carnimir pointed to a particular stall.

"They should have what we’re looking for," he said. "We won’t purchase all the fish there, though. We’ll need to purchase it from different vendors and we may have to make substitutions."

"You know more about this than I," Glorfindel averred, "so you may do the honors."

Carnimir nodded and, as they headed toward a particular stall, he greeted the merchant cheerfully by name — Morifindë, apparently for his nearly black hair, a rarity among the Elves, though not unheard of, for had not King Finwë been known for his black hair? — and the merchant returned the greeting just as cheerfully. Glorfindel stood back and watched the apprentice interact with the fishmonger, asking about the fishing, commiserating when the merchant complained of the weather — it’d been too rainy of late with sudden storms, thus making the fishing poor — idly discussing the state of the market and the other fish merchants, commenting on Carnimir’s tabard — Morifindë apparently knew Carnimir well enough and wondered when he would be promoted to journeyman status — asking after their respective families — Carnimir congratulated Morifindë on the recent birth of a great-granddaughter — and discussing the upcoming royal wedding — "About time, too," Morifindë said with a snort of disgust. "I was sure I would be seeing my own great-great-granddaughter married first." He gave them a sly wink which set Glorfindel and Carnimir laughing.

In fact, it seemed to Glorfindel as if these two talked about everything BUT the purpose of them being there. It was perhaps a good ten minutes before Carnimir even got around to the business at hand and Glorfindel schooled himself to stillness, impatient though he was to get on with things and get back to the palace. Yet, even as he stood there watching the two interact, he couldn’t help noticing how all this time Carnimir’s gaze was more on the various fish that the merchant was laying out than on the merchant himself and he began to see how things worked.

He did not recall ever having to go to a market to shop. As the lord of his House in Gondolin he had a steward in charge of such things, so this was an entirely new experience. Finally, though, Carnimir pointed to a particular type of fish, the kind that Marilla had said they needed.

"Is that all you have, my friend?" the apprentice asked.

Morifindë shrugged. "Fishing, as I said, has been poor these last few weeks. The Southern Fiefdoms are seeing more rain than usual for this time of year. And while a soft rain often brings a better catch, these are fierce storms and none dare venture out in them."

"Are there any other kind of fish we can use instead, Carnimir?" Glorfindel asked, stepping forward. "Mistress is waiting for the fish and we cannot linger."

"And who’s your friend?" the merchant asked, giving Glorfindel a friendly smile.

"Oh... um... this is... er..."

"My name is Laurefindil, Master," Glorfindel answered for Carnimir who was looking rather flustered, using the hated Quenya version of his name, knowing the fishmonger would know little about a reborn balrog-slayer, and would care even less. "I’m a new apprentice to the guild. I’m following Carnimir around, learning how to properly shop for the kitchen."

Carnimir looked nonplused at Glorfindel’s smooth explanation, but Morifindë merely nodded, giving them a smile. "And Carnimir is a good teacher," he said and the apprentice straightened in pride at the unexpected compliment. "As to your question, youngster," — Glorfindel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the ellon’s presumption and refused to look at Carnimir — "the answer depends on what the fish is for."

"We’re to make salomene for a feast tonight," Carnimir replied with a sigh, "but I don’t see anything that can be substituted for what you have of the kind we need."

"And it’s unlikely you’ll fare any better with the other merchants," Morifindë said in a commiserating tone. "As I said, fishing has been poor, and what we have managed to catch is not the kind you want for a salomene."

"How many of the fish is available, though?" Glorfindel asked. "If we bought from all the vendors, would that be enough?"

"Unlikely," Carnimir said. "Morifindë has only four and assuming the other merchants have no more than that in their stock we’ll be short by half of what we need."

"And I can assure you that the others don’t have the right kind of fish to substitute either," Morifindë chimed in. "We’re all dismayed at the paucity of our catches. We can only hope that the Valar will look kindly on us and end these storms."

"Odd that we haven’t seen much of these storms here in Tirion, though," Carnimir said.

Morifindë shrugged. "Most seem to originate in the mountains and we’re closer to them than you are."

Glorfindel in the meantime was looking impatiently around the market. By now with the sun well up there were many more shoppers looking over the wares, haggling for bargains and generally visiting with the merchants and their neighbors. "If we don’t hurry, Carnimir, we’ll not get any of the fish we need," he said with a soft groan. "Look, already three people have bought the kind we want." He pointed to other stalls where the merchants were packing the fish that had been bought by their patrons.

Carnimir sighed and gave Glorfindel a helpless look while Morifindë started to say something but then stopped, turning to an elleth who was looking over his catch of trout and speaking with her. Glorfindel pulled Carnimir to one side, out of the elleth’s way.

"We need to hurry and buy up what we can," he said.

"Even if we did, we would still not have enough," Carnimir pointed out. "Normally, menus are planned a good week in advance to ensure that we have all the proper ingredients. I know for a fact that originally it was planned that we would serve a roasted pork for dinner tonight as the main dish."

"Why didn’t Mistress say so?" Glorfindel demanded, feeling frustrated. "Why let Findaráto and me plan the menu without telling us what had already been decided? We could have saved ourselves the trouble."

Carnimir shrugged. "I don’t know, my friend. I only know that if you want to serve salomene tonight, you won’t be able to serve the entire hall. You may have to reserve it for the high table and the Vanyarin guests and let everyone else have the roasted pork, but we need to decide now because the pork will take time to cook. Indeed, we should have begun last night in preparing it for cooking first thing this morning with all of us taking turns throughout the day working the spit. Now I fear it’s too late."

"We need the fish," Glorfindel said firmly. "It’s too late to change the menu or to add to it, I deem. I would go to the Southern Fiefdoms or even further to Clearwater Glade and fish myself, but it’s too far away."

"And it’s too late in the day," Morifindë called out, having overheard part of their conversation as he attended to his other customers. "Fishing is best done at night or in the early hours just before dawn."

"We need the fish," Glorfindel said again. "Let’s see how much we can buy up now."

Carnimir nodded. "It would take too long for us to go from stall to stall, though." He turned to Morifindë, who was finishing up with a customer. "My friend, can you alert all the other merchants to our need? We will take what we can get and hope it will be enough."

Morifindë shrugged. "I will do what I can." He then stepped out from behind his stall and began calling out the names of the other fishmongers who stopped what they were doing and came out from behind their own stalls to hear what Morifindë had to say. The fishmonger told them what was needed and asked that all cooperate in supplying the palace with the needed fish.

"And we will not waste our time bargaining," he ended with a stern note and Glorfindel had the feeling that among these merchants Morifindë was considered their leader. "We will give them a fair price, for ever has King Arafinwë treated us kindly and with respect."

The others all agreed and soon they were bringing what fish they had on hand to Morifindë’s stall, for he had agreed to see to it the fish were delivered in a timely manner. Glorfindel noticed that not a few of the other customers looked dismayed as the fish they no doubt had been hoping to buy for their own suppers were now no longer available and felt a sudden pang of remorse, hoping their actions would not cause too much resentment toward the King. He suspected that if Atar Arafinwë knew what was happening he would not approve.

Yet, even with the cooperation of all the other vendors, they were still woefully short of fish, for many of the vendors had already sold some of their catch. Carnimir shook his head. "It is not enough, but it will have to do. We’ll have to come up with another dish to serve the rest of the hall. I hesitate to buy up any other fish for that will leave none for the other customers."

One elleth, who was standing nearby, looked sorrowfully at the pile of fish that Morifindë and a couple of assistants were already packing up for delivery. "I was so looking forward to making a salomene for my husband tonight," she said to no one in particular. "It’s his favorite dish and today is his begetting day anniversary and I wished to surprise him with it, for in truth, I have not made it for some time."

"How much would you need, Mistress?" Glorfindel asked, more out of curiosity than anything, figuring if she only needed one or two that would be fine.

But apparently she had intended to buy enough for several guests who would be coming to celebrate her husband’s begetting day. It would seriously deplete their own stock but Glorfindel could not in good conscience deny the elleth what she desired. He told Morifindë to put aside a certain amount for her, much to her surprise. "And charge her the same as you’ve charged us," he added.

Carnimir gave him a strange look. "We need the fish," he whispered harshly. "As it is, there’ll not be enough even to feed those at the high table."

Glorfindel shrugged and started to say something, but then stopped, staring at a small fountain that graced the middle of the market square and suddenly he remembered something that had been told him not too many years before when he was staying with Lady Nienna, and a wild, impossible idea struck him. He gave Carnimir a considering look then headed for the fountain, the apprentice right behind him. "What are you doing?" Carnimir demanded.

"Hush," Glorfindel said even as he reached the fountain, which was a statue of an ëaris blowing a conch horn out of which the water flowed. He knelt beside the fountain and cupped some of the water into his hand, wondering at his audacity and really, what could the Lord of Waters do? And yet, and yet....

"My lord," Glorfindel said softly, yet all motion ceased in the market square as those there looked on in amazement. "I know thou hast heard all that hath gone on in this market. I know thou art aware of our need. I know that there is probably naught that thou canst truly do, yet, if thou lovest me, I prithee to lend me thine ear and help us if thou canst."

Of course, nothing happened, nor did Glorfindel expect that anything would. He did not know whence came the impulse to do as he did, silently cursing himself for several different kinds of a fool kneeling in front of a stupid fountain beseeching Lord Ulmo for help with all the market watching him. What help could the Lord of Waters give, after all? Carnimir stepped forward, putting a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder. The golden-haired balrog-slayer looked up and gave him a wry smile. "Didn’t think it would work, but it was worth a try." He stood up, brushing dirt from his tunic and trews and sighed. "I guess we’ll make do with what we have and come up with an alternative. We’d best get back to the kitchen and tell Mistress Marilla."

He walked away from the fountain and stopped before Morifindë’s stall to thank him for his help. Even as he was speaking, he heard someone scream and there were sudden shouts of surprise coming from several throats. He turned around to see what was happening and felt his jaw drop to the ground in disbelief. There, before their very eyes, the water in the fountain began to bubble and surge upward and suddenly fish were flying out of the water to land flopping on the flagstone pavement of the square. First there were only one or two fish and then several more and soon there were a dozen all flopping around with many more still coming from the fountain.

"Grab them!" he heard Morifindë shout and immediately many people were stooping down to pick up the fish, fish that were just the right kind needed for the salomene. Glorfindel was not slow to follow the others and still the fish came until there had to have been well over a hundred. Even with many eager helpers it still took them time to gather up all the fish, for more kept coming. Finally Glorfindel ran to the pool, dodging flying fish.

"It’s enough!" he shouted into the fountain. "It’s more than enough! Thank you. Thank you."

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a rumble of laughter coming from the fountain and did the ëaris statue actually wink at him? Glorfindel shook his head to clear it of such foolishness and turned around to survey the square. Most of the fish had been caught and now people were looking at him askance. Carnimir just stared at him in open-mouthed awe. Glorfindel gave them one of his brilliant smiles.

"So, is this enough?" he asked ingenuously.

He was answered with one more fish flying out of the fountain to land squarely on top of his head. For a second, everyone just stared at him in disbelief at what they’d just witnessed and then Carnimir started giggling and then others joined in, including Glorfindel, and soon the entire square was awash with the sound of laughter.

****

Words are Quenya:

Háno: Brother.

Eäris: Mermaid.

Notes on the menu designed by Finrod and Glorfindel. This menu is based on authentic medieval recipes easily found on the internet:

1. Cassia chicken soup: chicken soup with cinnamon.

2. Salomene: fish (usually perch) that is first baked then pan fried and topped with a red wine sauce mixed with several kinds of spices, including cinnamon, mace, ginger and cloves. Generally served over rice.

3. Almond rice: rice cooked in almond milk with slivers of almonds added to it.

4. Sallet: spinach, leeks, onions and currants cooked in a sweet spice mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger.

5. Venison custard: venison cooked in wine then baked in a pie crust with dates, currants (or raisins), and prunes with beaten eggs poured over it for the custard.

6. Frumenty: a thick wheat porridge often served with venison.