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Elf Academy Part Deux  by Fiondil

38: Casualties of the Storm

Warning: A minor character’s death occurs off-stage.

****

Around four o’clock in the morning came the welcome sound of snowplows. Several of the students woke and went to the windows to look out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the plows, but all they saw was the reflection of the rotating orange lights casting weird shadows across the snowscape. After a few minutes they returned to their sleeping bags.

When the students woke for real, they found that the road before the Academy was cleared and, once breakfast was over, many of them decided to spend the morning removing the snow from the parking lot to ‘rescue’ their vehicles. Others ventured further afield to check out the rest of the college. Elrohir and Elladan began coordinating with the clinic staff to transfer some of the sicker students. As they left, Glorfindel came and assured them that they would not lose their places at the Academy.

"You have borne your illness with great courage," he told them in all sincerity, "and we look forward to seeing you back here as soon as you are well." His words appeared to give the students comfort, for many of them smiled as they were led away, carefully escorted by medical personnel.

Around ten came the sound of snowmobiles and when Glorfindel was summoned he found Paul Pettingill with another ranger, who held up a belt. "Heard you were down one generator," the ranger said with a smile. "This should fix it."

"Thank you," Glorfindel said. "Conan will show you where to go." He turned to Paul. "So, what brings you here?"

"Just checking up on you to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to cannibalism or anything."

"No, we’re fine. More than fine, now that we can get the second generator going. Of course, we would be even better if we had full power."

"Latest estimates say not before Sunday," Paul said. "Most of the power lines are down and it’s going to take a while. Crews are working around the clock and they got people coming from Barrows to help out. Even some of the oil crews out of Deadhorse have been recruited."

"Well, it’s the weekend anyway so there wouldn’t be any classes. I hope we can resume classes by Monday. We’ve lost an entire week."

"We’ll manage," Paul said with a shrug.

Glorfindel snorted. "That’s what Daeron keeps saying."

"And if you hear it often enough, you may come to believe it," Daeron retorted as he approached them, having heard the last exchange. "We have the second generator going."

"Thank the Valar! I sincerely hope we get power back by tomorrow sometime so we can move the students back to their rooms. I find I miss my bed."

Paul and Daeron grinned. "At any rate," Paul said, "We’ve been asked by Mayor Whitman to check on conditions here on campus. You were our first stop."

"And I appreciate it," Glorfindel said. "Dr. Lawrence had medical teams out checking on all the buildings. Check with him to find out what the situation is. I know the student center needs attention. The students trapped there ran out of food and had to go into town to look for more."

"We’re aware of that," Paul said, giving them a grim look. "I haven’t heard from Richard Martina, though I’ve left messages on his phone. I told the mayor and he said he would have someone check Martina’s house."

"The Administration building was locked when I checked," Glorfindel said, frowning. "Lawrence told me he was ordering his teams to break into any locked building, not to assume someone wasn’t there. I don’t know if they’ve been there yet. The doctors and nurses were concentrating on where they knew students were congregated."

Paul was about to comment when his phone rang. Answering it, he listened for a moment before closing it down, giving them a grim look. "That was Sheriff Graff. They went to Martina’s house. He’s not there."

Glorfindel sighed, suddenly having a premonition of doom. "If you’re headed for the Admin building, I’m coming with you."

Paul merely nodded, knowing Glorfindel well enough not to argue with the Elf-lord. "Grab a flashlight," was all he said.

"I’ll meet you there," Glorfindel replied.

By now Conan had returned with the other ranger and the two rangers set off while Glorfindel went inside to retrieve a flashlight. Daeron went with him. "You think something has happened to Richard?" he asked.

"I don’t know," Glorfindel replied. "I only know that he’s not home and the Admin building is locked up tight. My heart tells me that something is wrong, only I don’t know what."

"We’ll hold down the fort," Daeron said, then flashed him a smile. "Both forts," he added and Glorfindel chuckled as he headed back outside, skirting the building and making his way to the Admin building where he could see Paul and the other ranger attempting to unlock the door without having to break the glass.

"Here, let me," Glorfindel said, tossing his flashlight at the second ranger, whose name tag said ‘Sean Kendrick’. Paul stepped back and gave Glorfindel an amused look which he ignored. Placing a hand over the keyhole he concentrated a great deal of energy into it, muttering words of power that caused the two Mortals to gasp and step back. There was an interminable moment of extreme pressure, as if all the air around them had fled and then they heard a satisfying click as the door unlocked, sounding loud in the stillness. Then the air came back and the two Mortals were breathing heavily. Glorfindel turned to see Paul wiping sweat off his brow; Kendrick looked slightly green. He gave them a sympathetic smile as they simply stared at him in awe.

"Shall we go?" he asked, holding out his hand for the flashlight. At Paul’s nod, he opened the door and they stepped inside where all was dark once they left its vicinity. With no power, the elevators were not working so once they had searched all the rooms on the first floor, finding them empty, they headed for the stairs. Glorfindel was tempted to go directly to Martina’s office on the tenth floor, but stayed with the rangers as they methodically searched every room on every floor. Having three people looking sped up the procedure and within fifteen minutes they were outside Martina’s office.

Even before they reached it, though, Glorfindel sensed a wrongness and stopped Kendrick from opening the door. "Let me go first," he said softly.

The young ranger started to protest, but Paul took him by the arm and pulled him back. "You sense something?" he asked Glorfindel.

"More like smell," the Elf replied, "and it’s a smell with which I am all too acquainted. Let me go first." Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door wide enough to admit him then closed it behind him, making his way from the outer office into Martina’s inner sanctum. He paused at the door and closed his eyes briefly before going to the desk and automatically checking for a pulse that he knew wasn’t there. Richard Martina was slumped over his desk and by the look of things, he’d been dead for some time.

"Nai Heru Námo tirvua lahtietya, meldonya," he said softly, closing the man’s eyes. Then he went to the door and opened it, gesturing for the rangers to enter. "He must have had a heart attack or stroke," he said. "He must have sent everyone else home Wednesday night and stayed to finish up some paperwork."

Paul was checking the body to confirm what they all knew even as Kendrick was making the necessary call to the medical examiner’s office. Glorfindel just stood there, letting the Mortals deal with the necessity of getting the body removed, remembering past times with Martina. The Man had been a friend and an ally, welcoming the Elves and doing everything in his power to help them and Glorfindel had respected him highly.

"You going to be all right?" Paul asked him, giving him a shrewd look.

Glorfindel nodded, taking a deep breath. "It never gets any easier," he said and, knowing there was nothing else he could do, he walked out, leaving the rangers to deal with things as he sought the fresh air. Instinctively, he headed for the woods bordering the college, seeking solace among the trees, but there was none and, standing in the midst of the woods, he screamed.

****

How long he stayed there in the woods Glorfindel could never afterwards remember. Hours, certainly; maybe days. It didn’t matter to him. At some point he became more aware of his surroundings. He was sitting on a fallen log, unmindful of the wetness from the snow seeping into his clothes. Scenes from the last two years flitted through his mind, scenes of him and Richard Martina: the day they had a monumental argument over some trifling matter, neither one of them giving an inch until Richard attempted to swear in Sindarin, which he’d been learning, and mangling the phrase so much that Glorfindel had burst out laughing and, argument forgotten, had spent a half an hour teaching the Man proper swear words in Sindarin and Quenya; the first time Martina had visited Edhellond at their first end-of-summer picnic, happily tossing the salad and singing some aria from a Mozart opera to the amusement of the Elves; the day Martina invited Glorfindel to go fly fishing with him at Wild Lake, the two of them standing in companionable silence in water up to their hips enjoying the day; the time the two of them had spent half the night at the Blue Petrel discussing Plato and Aristotle over beers.

A host of other images came and went and with each one Glorfindel felt himself slipping deeper into grief, tears unheeded running down his cheeks.

"If you were Mortal, I would warn you about catching your death sitting in the snow like this."

Glorfindel looked up into the sympathetic gaze of the Lord of Mandos.

"Why?"

"It was his time," Námo replied. "Richard Martina was destined to leave the circles of Arda at this time regardless of what else was happening. You think the storm had something to do with his death?"

"It seems rather coincidental."

"Only from your perspective. Richard would have come to me whether he was sitting at his desk in the middle of a snowstorm making plans to keep the college safe or sitting on a beach in Tahiti sipping on a rum swizzle. It was simply his time."

"It doesn’t get any easier," Glorfindel said with a sigh.

"No, it doesn’t," Námo averred. "Would it help to know that Richard came to me willingly. Oh, there was regret and sorrow, but there was also anticipation, for he was anxious to be reunited with his beloved Stella. It was a happy reunion and now they are both in Eru’s presence and know only joy. Take comfort in that, my son, if in nothing else. Now I know you are still grieving and it will be some time before you come to acceptance, but there are four hundred other Mortals depending on you and your friends are worried for you as well. I think you’ve spent enough time getting yourself soaked to the skin."

The Vala gave him a significant look and Glorfindel nodded, rising from his seat, grimacing as he became more aware of his jeans clinging wetly to his skin. Námo gave him a smile and faded away. Glorfindel started walking out of the woods but stopped when he sensed someone approaching. From the way the person struggled through the drifts, he knew it was a Mortal and was only faintly surprised to see that it was Alex making his way toward him.

"What brings you out here?" Glorfindel asked.

"You, actually," Alex replied. "I was in the middle of playing forts with the others and I needed to take a breather. Went to lean against some tree and had this overwhelming need to come here, almost as if I were being summoned. It was weird. Tried to ignore it but even after I went back to the game I couldn’t get the sense of being summoned from my mind so I decided to find out what was going on. You okay? We heard about Martina."

"He was a friend," Glorfindel said simply.

Alex nodded. "You have my sympathy. Now I hate to sound petty, but do you think we can go? I can’t feel my nose anymore."

In spite of himself, Glorfindel grinned. "And you’re still recovering from the virus. Come. Let’s get you back inside and warm you up."

The two headed back to the Academy with Glorfindel following behind the Mortal. It took them a few minutes to reach one of the plowed walkways and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Glorfindel could tell the Man was nearly exhausted from the effort of plowing through the snow and took his elbow to guide him. Alex didn’t protest. When they reached the Academy, Glorfindel insisted that Alex go lie down and made sure that he did before going to his office and changing out of his wet clothes. There was a knock on his door as he was brushing his hair and he called out for the person to enter. The door opened to reveal Daeron standing there, looking concerned.

"How are you faring?" he asked quietly.

Glorfindel shrugged as he stowed the brush in his toiletry bag and gathered up the wet clothes and shoved them into a plastic bag that he'd gotten from the kitchen. "I’ll be all right eventually."

Daeron nodded. "I’ve been speaking with Mayor Whitman and Marian. Richard’s son is flying up from Anchorage and should be here tomorrow. His daughter lives out of state and will be here by Monday they’re guessing. Assuming that the medical examiner finishes his examination over the weekend, Richard’s body will be released to the family on Monday. Calling hours will be Tuesday night and the funeral will be Wednesday."

Glorfindel nodded. "We’ll cancel classes on Wednesday out of respect, assuming we have power back before that."

"Well, with Richard gone, George Stillman is acting as president. He called a meeting of all administrators for two o’clock. You weren’t here, so I went in your stead. Stillman wasn’t happy to see me."

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. I... I just needed some time alone."

"I know and I don’t blame you. I told George that something had come up at the Academy that needed your immediate attention and you’d asked me to sit in for you."

"You actually lied?" Glorfindel exlaimed with a grin. "I didn’t know you had it in you."

"It’s easy enough with Mortals," Daeron said with a sniff, "and it’s not the first time I’ve had to do so, either."

"I know and I appreciate it. So, what did George decide?"

"Right now, the main business of the day is to get the students back to their classes. If we can get power back by Monday, then classes will resume. There was some talk about closing down the campus entirely until this virus is dealt with, but John Lawrence told them it wasn’t worth it. Only about ten percent of the students and faculty are down with it and it looks as if it’s not spreading as much as everyone feared. Other than that, the biggest concern is feeding everyone while the power is still out. George is coordinating with the mayor to have food brought to the campus. The other cafeterias were closed down because none of the staff were able to make it in before the storm hit and it’s not going to be until tomorrow before they can open again."

"We were lucky that we have our own cafeteria," Glorfindel said. "Do we have enough supplies to send over to the student center?"

"I already checked with Holly, who’s been keeping inventory, and made arrangements to have some staples sent over. They’ll be dining on pancakes and applesauce but it’ll be better than cold sandwiches."

"Then I guess we’re doing all right," Glorfindel said. "As soon as power is restored completely, we’ll start moving the students back to their rooms. I want someone to go over to Edhellond and check to make sure everything’s fine there. The town may have power before we do, so as soon as we can get the place habitable again, the better. I for one want nothing more than to fall into my own bed and sleep for a week."

Daeron chuckled. "I hear you. I’ll have the Twins go over. Now that the sick have been transferred to the clinic they don’t have to deal with them anymore. They more than the rest of us have been expending a great deal of energy. I’m inclined to tell them to stay in town, go to the hotel and get a hot shower and some real sleep."

"I’ll make it an order and tell them to go there directly. Conan and Barry or Gil can go over to Edhellond instead."

Daeron nodded. "Well, you missed lunch and the second round of the snowball fight, but supper will be on soon. Jud has suggested we hold a marathon reading session, pick out some very thick book and have people take turns reading out loud, like they do with Joyce’s Ulysses every year. I don’t recommend that book, but we may be able to find something that most of the students wouldn’t mind listening to."

"That sounds fine," Glorfindel said. "Since it was Jud’s idea, have him scour the reading room and see what he can find."

"I’ll let him know," Daeron said and made his way out of the office. Glorfindel spent a couple of minutes getting his thoughts in order and then went in search of the Twins.

****

After supper, the students began reading out loud from the book they had chosen. Jud had selected three books and the students had voted on them, the majority deciding they wanted to read Alice in Wonderland. Glorfindel listened with amusement as Lucy Barton described the first encounter between Alice and the Cheshire Cat. He was vaguely aware of Cennanion and Barahir entering the cafeteria and speaking quietly to Daeron and Vorondur, but was not curious enough to leave his spot to see what was up. So, it was with some trepidation that he saw Daeron coming toward him, his expression carefully neutral. He sighed inwardly, wondering what new disaster was in the offing.

When Daeron reached him, he bent down and whispered into his ear, "There’s a problem."

"So I gathered," Glorfindel whispered back, getting up from where he’d been sitting and following the loremaster out to the corridor. Cennanion, Barahir and Vorondur joined them.

"Well?" Glorfindel demanded.

The other four Elves exchanged looks and then Barahir sighed. "We checked the mansion. The storm did some major damage to the trees. One of the taller pines was brought down by the weight of the ice and snow and crashed into the house."

"What is the extent of the damage?" Glorfindel asked faintly.

"The tree crashed through the roof and attic, so snow and ice piled up inside the third-floor bedroom below and there’s extensive water damage to the bedroom on the second floor."

"Whose room?" Glorfindel asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Yours, I’m afraid," Barahir replied, casting him a sympathetic look.

"We won’t know until we can get the tree removed and do a thorough check before we can figure what the cost will be to repair everything," Cennanion added.

"My room?" Glorfindel asked.

Both Cennanion and Barahir nodded.

"Why not?" Glorfindel asked rhetorically, throwing his hands up in a gesture of defeat. "Why shouldn’t it be my room and not someone else’s? As if things aren’t complicated enough, now I don’t even have a bed to sleep in."

"Now, don’t exaggerate, mellon nîn," Daeron protested. "There are plenty of other rooms available. I know it’s a shock but things could have been much worse than they are."

"Oh?" Glorfindel gave him a skeptical look. "And how, pray tell, could they be worse? Richard is dead, my bedroom is in ruins, we have no power, we’re running low on food and supplies, and I’m ready to tell the Valar to take a flying leap and find someone else to spit on, so how can it be any worse?"

"You could be dead," Vorondur answered before Daeron could reply.

"Been there, done that," Glorfindel retorted with a sniff.

"Or every one of those children in the cafeteria could be dead," Vorondur continued as if he’d not heard Glorfindel, "or the Dagor Dagorath could have been launched in the middle of the storm, or…."

"All right! I get your point."

"Do you?" Vorondur asked, his eyes narrowing. "It’s very easy to be self-indulgent when things go badly, believing you’re the target for all the badness that is being thrown at you, but you’ve been through much worse than this, Glorfindel. Would you be this upset if the tree had landed in my bedroom instead?"

Glorfindel had the grace to blush at the reprimand. "Sorry, you’re right. I guess I’m letting all this get to me more than I should."

"You have the unenviable task of being the leader of us all and you are dealing with many things at once, but you’re not alone and we’re here to help in any capacity that we can," Vorondur said, speaking more gently. "You let us worry about the house. You just concentrate on those children in there." He nodded toward the cafeteria. "They are of more importance than a house that can be repaired."

"I informed the mayor as soon as we saw the extent of the damage," Barahir said. "He said he would have a crew out to remove the tree tomorrow and arrange to have that part of the roof covered and the snow removed until they can deal with it. If we don’t have another storm soon, they might be able to put up a temporary roof that will hold until spring."

"We took the liberty of salvaging everything we could from your room," Barahir said, "and moved them into the Imladris room."

Glorfindel nodded. "Thank you. I guess we should go back inside."

The others nodded and they went in to listen to the students read about Alice’s adventures, but Glorfindel’s heart was no longer in it and after a couple of minutes he excused himself and went down to his office. He sat there, staring out the window, wondering what else or who else would become a casualty of the storm.

****

Nai Heru Námo triuva lahtietya, meldonya: (Quenya) ‘Lord Námo guard your passing over, my friend’.





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