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Christmas at Edhellond: An Elf Academy Tale  by Fiondil

1: Deck the Halls

“Oh come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant….”

Finrod stood beside the front door of Edhellond with some of the others, listening to the carol being sung by a group of children with a couple of adults acting as chaperones. It was the third such group of singers in as many days. It was now the third day of the month that Mortals called December and the Elves called Ringarë and Christmas was three weeks away.

As he listened to the caroling, Finrod pondered the magical change that had come upon Wiseman almost overnight. Late in the afternoon of the day after he had held his Court, the Elves had gathered with the good folk of Wiseman in the central square of the town where a large conifer, easily seventy feet high and which Glorfindel said was a Norway spruce, had been raised. The Elves recently come from Valinor were somewhat mystified by all the excitement that was evident as townspeople huddled in their coats patiently waiting for something to happen while children ran hither and yon. A band was playing somewhere and when he had asked, Daeron had explained that it was very special music played only during this time of year. Then, the band went silent and the mayor came forward giving a mercifully short speech of welcome before flipping a switch. Finrod was not the only one to gasp in utter amazement as the tree suddenly blazed with light. There was much oohing and aahing among the Mortals and everyone clapped and then to Finrod’s amazement, they all broke out into song.

“O Tannebaum, O Tannebaum, how lovely are your branches….”

Even the Wiseman Elves were singing, which amazed him even more. Glorfindel, standing next to him, had glanced his way, giving him a wink, his face wreathed with a wide smile. Afterwards, there was hot chocolate or mulled cider, courtesy of the Gold Nugget Café, and Finrod was formally introduced to the mayor, Harry Whitman, by Glorfindel. It had been then that the mayor had invited him to join the town council, along with Glorfindel and Daeron, and he had accepted, with the proviso that he would act only as an observer, for he was too new to this world to offer any real advice. Mayor Whitman seemed content with that and told them that the council meetings were scheduled for the second Wednesday of each month.

Over the next week, Finrod had observed the transformation of the town as people began putting up lights and decorating their front lawns with the most interesting (and to his mind, ridiculous) adornments. He was even more nonplused when Elrohir and Serindë began bringing several boxes down from the attic and pulling out their own decorations, stringing up strands of colored lights along the eaves of the roof and placing two large lighted stars on either side of the gate that was never closed. A balsam wreath was also hung on the front door decorated with red ribbon and pine cones.

Inside, the house was also transformed, with swags of balsam tied with red ribbon gracing the balustrade of the front stairs and on every mantelpiece. Red, green and white candles were brought out and placed in silver candleholders and bowls of potpourri were placed strategically throughout the mansion, infusing the air with the scent of roses and peppermint and spices.

Findalaurë, Calandil, Elennen and Nielluin, being the youngest among them, had become very enthusiastic about helping with the decorating while Daeron taught them all a few Christmas carols. Glorfindel also taught them some carols, though they were rather ridiculous, not at all solemn and joyful as the ones Daeron sang. He had to admit, though, that they were rather hilarious, especially the one about the reindeer with the shiny nose. He and the others had been quite amused by the ‘Glorfi’ version as Elladan had so cheekily put it when he and his twin had sung it, much to Glorfindel’s embarrassment.

Valandur had admitted to him later that his personal favorite was ‘Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer’. “Especially the bit about not trusting someone who played with Elves,” he had said with a sly wink and Finrod had laughed. “Indeed,” was his only comment.

“…We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year….”

Finrod brought himself out of his reverie as the last carol was being sung. When the children had finished, he and the others clapped their appreciation.

“Come in, come in,” Glorfindel gestured to them. “We have some hot cider for you to warm you up before you go to the next house.”

There were cries of appreciation and soon the front hall of Edhellond was crowded with children and their adult chaperones stamping their feet and clapping their mittened and gloved hands to warm them while Finrod and the others handed out the cider. He listened to Daeron speaking to the two adults.

“We’re from Our Lady of Snows,” one of them was saying and Finrod recognized it as the name of one of the… churches, if he remembered the name correctly. “These are members of the children’s choir.”

“They have lovely voices,” Daeron said politely, giving the children a fond look.

Finrod felt someone tug on his arm and he looked down to see one of the children, a boy, staring up at him. “Are you really a king?” he asked, looking somewhat skeptical.

“Travis,” one of the chaperones admonished, sounding shocked and embarrassed, “do not be rude.”

“It is quite all right,” Finrod said mildly, giving them a smile. It was not surprising that the child would be curious about him. He gave the boy a nod. “Yes, or rather, I once was a king, but my kingdom was destroyed long, long ago.”

“Is that why you don’t wear a crown anymore?” Travis asked. “Kings are supposed to wear a crown. That’s how you know they’re kings and not just anyone.”

Finrod stole a glance at his fellow Elves and saw the amusement in their eyes. When he looked down at the child he wasn’t at all surprised to see expectant expressions on the faces of the other children. Obviously, they were just as curious.

“Yes, that is why. Without a kingdom, I have no crown, so now I am just like everyone else.”

“No you’re not,” said a girl with a disdainful sniff. She looked to be a little older than the boy. “You’re Finrod Felagund. We read about you in our History of Middle-earth class. You’re famous.” She gave him a brilliant smile and he was unsure how to deal with the hero-worshipping look she and others gave him. He was saved the trouble by one of the Mortal adults thanking the Elves for the cider. “We still have two more blocks of houses to get to,” he said.

“Thank you for stopping and singing for us,” Glorfindel said graciously as he opened the door and the Mortals began filing out. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” they all echoed back, waving farewell, and then the door was closing and the Elves were left to themselves.

“And this happens every year?” Finrod asked as he and the others began collecting empty plastic cups which would be washed and dried and ready for the next batch of singers, for he had been warned that there would be many more groups of carolers between now and Christmas.

“Apparently,” Glorfindel answered. “You have to understand that this is only our second Christmas here at Edhellond and last year I think we had only about three or four groups of carolers at our door the entire season. I have a feeling your Court last week forced some hard truths upon the good people of Wiseman and these carolers are a small way of them letting us know that we are accepted as part of their community.”

“It is something I had hoped to instill in them,” Finrod said as he helped himself to some of the leftover cider. “I know you and the others have not had it easy here and that you have achieved as much as you have in this short time is nothing short of miraculous. You should all be very proud of yourselves.”

“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Glorfindel said with a slight frown.

Finrod raised an eyebrow in surprise. “There is no ‘but’, gwador. I meant what I said: you all have much to be proud of. You, not I, have been the ambassadors of the Eldar and the Valar to the good people of Wiseman and the surrounding towns. You, not I, have befriended these people, gotten them to work with you, to allow you to take over Elf Academy and turn it into a training school for the Dagor Dagorath. All I have done is driven home to the Mortals the importance of choosing which side they wish to be on.”

Glorfindel and some of the other Wiseman Elves still looked dubious and Finrod resisted a sigh. Draining his cup of cider, he placed it in the dishwasher along with the others. “I will rest now,” he said.

Now his fellow Elves gave him worried looks. Findalaurë wrapped his arms around him. “Are you well, Atto?” he asked. “You do look a bit pale. Does your wound still trouble you?”

Finrod gave his youngest child a smile. “Do not worry so for me, Finda. This is no worse a wound than the many I received in the Dagor Bragollach.” He chuckled. “Indeed, I ended up breaking my leg at one point and had to hop on one foot to safety.”

Laurendil snickered, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And your atto is a very good hopper.”

Findalaurë gave Laurendil a disbelieving look but did not dispute the older Elf’s words. “At any rate, I desire to rest for a time,” Finrod said.

“Then you should,” Laurendil said, his demeanor more grave as he gave Finrod his best ‘your-healer-is-not-happy’ look. “I am only just beginning to understand just how perilously close to dying you came, Aranya.” He shook his head. “The weapons these Mortals wield in this time are surely inventions of the orcs.”

“In that you may be correct,” Daeron said with a grim smile. “But do not dismiss the imaginations of the Mortals. They have proven themselves quite capable of inventing infernal devices that are simply appalling and one has to wonder just how sane any of them are these days.”

“A discussion for another time, though,” Vorondur said. “This is supposed to be a season of peace and light. Even the Mortals, who are so in love with killing each other, will stop their petty squabbles during this time and the prayers of many will be directed to the One that someday peace will finally come.”

“Peace, like hope, is a fleeting commodity in this world,” Nimrodel said with a snort. She placed a hand on her belly that was only just beginning to round with pregnancy. Amroth, his arms around her, kissed her on the temple.

“And yet, we who stand here tonight are a testament that both are achievable, else the Valar would not have sent us to secure that hope and that peace, though we must come through death and destruction first to do so,” Finrod said. He shook his head. “Well, as Vorondur said, a discussion for another time.” He gave them a brief bow and headed for the back stairs that would lead to his room. Findalaurë followed him in case he required any assistance. He still had trouble with his left arm and was still doing exercises to strengthen it. Soon though, he was lying in bed, slipping onto the Path of Dreams.

****

He woke to the smell of something delicious baking and quickly went through his ablutions before heading downstairs. It was nearly eight by the clock and he was surprised he had slept for so long. His wound was still taking its toll and the discussion they had had last night had weighed heavily upon him. He stopped on the landing to look out the small window that offered illumination there. The grounds were covered with snow, white and pristine. The trees were also snow-covered and the sky was clear. It was still dark out, for at this time of the year sunrise was still a couple or so hours away. He could see over the walls surrounding Edhellond and smiled as he noted a group of children bundled up so only their eyes were visible, pulling sleds, obviously on their way to the sledding hill, as it was called. He had seen the children playing there under the watchful eyes of some of their parents and had wished to join them. Glorfindel assured him that there would be plenty of time for such foolishness, as he put it, “once you are fully healed, and not before.” Finrod had the grace to accept that, knowing the truth of his gwador’s words.

“Good morning.”

Finrod pulled his gaze away from the window to see Glorfindel standing there dressed in his Elf Guide outfit, smiling up at him.

“Good morning. I did not realize you were scheduled to act as a guide today.”

“Normally, I am not, but Derek called last night after you went to bed to ask if I would take his shift today. His father flies into Fairbanks later today and he wants to go down to meet him. Alex is also off today so he’s going with him to keep him company. They’ll stay the night and return tomorrow.”

Finrod nodded. “I am still not used to the idea of anyone being able to travel so swiftly.”

Glorfindel just shrugged and Finrod realized that he and the other Wiseman Elves had watched these Mortals take their first tentative steps into flight. He felt a sense of… betrayal? He wasn’t sure. It seemed that his gwador had had far more interesting experiences here in Ennorath than he had had in Valinor.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

Finrod blinked, forcing himself to focus on Glorfindel. He found lately that he was having difficulty focusing on anything for any length of time. The Court had been far more a strain on him than he had let on and for some reason he was now feeling depressed. “Is that allowed?” he asked. “The Valar…”

“Do not ever dictate to me,” Glorfindel said darkly. “I spent millennia without their interference and I am not about to let them dictate to me this late in the day. I take everything they say under advisement and while I have normally agreed with their suggestions, I do not automatically accept them.” He paused and his mien became less forbidding. “Come with me, gwador,” he pleaded. “I think you need this.”

“How will you explain me? And I do not have an outfit such as yours.”

Now Glorfindel’s expression brightened. “You are an apprentice Elf, of course, learning the ropes from your master. And I think Elrohir’s outfit will fit you well enough. Now, I have to leave in about fifteen minutes, so best to hurry.”

Finrod raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Yes, Master. Anything you say, Master.”

“That’s the spirit,” Glorfindel said facetiously and Finrod laughed.

“I’ll just track down Elrohir and I will be ready when you are.”

“He’s in the kitchen. Oh, and Finda and his gwedyr are in town doing some Christmas shopping with Jud.”

“Christmas shopping?”

“Buying gifts to give to their friends and family,” Glorfindel said. “I gave them each plenty of money to buy small gifts, assuming they find anything they think will suit.”

“I had not thought of that,” Finrod said with a frown as he descended the stairs. He sighed. “I will have to think of my own gifts.”

“You are gift enough, gwador,” Glorfindel said, giving him a hug. “You are our greatest gift, you and those who came with you. Never doubt that.”

Finrod gave him a shrewd look. “And do you have a gift for me?”

“Yes, I do and no, I won’t tell you what it is. You’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else. Now, stop wasting time. I’ll go warm the van.” With that, he stepped outside and Finrod went down the hall in search of a quick breakfast and Elrohir.

****

They drove down the James Dalton Highway in silence, Finrod staring out the window at the stark scenery, lost in thought, while Glorfindel kept his eyes on the road. They were headed south to the Northern Lights Holiday Resort to spend the day guiding the Taylor family from someplace called Homer, a town in southern Alaska. They had apparently arrived the evening before and were due to return home on Monday.

“We get plenty of day-trippers, as we call them,” Glorfindel said, breaking the silence between them. “They are our bread-and-butter, so to speak, for those who come from further afield are not as plentiful and these last few years have been hard economically, so fewer people are spending hard-earned money on such trips.”

“Will that prove troublesome for us?” Finrod asked.

“Not sure,” Glorfindel said with a shrug. “The economy is sluggish, but we are actually seeing more tourism here than in previous years. It was why Elf Academy was established in the first place. The resorts here have been really pushing to draw people here and many are willing to come, if only for a day or two. Here, take a look at Derek’s plan.” He nodded to a file folder sitting between them and Finrod opened it. The Taylors had three children between the ages of ten and fourteen. They weren’t at all interested in meeting Santa, the children all deeming themselves too old for it, but they were interested in doing the same things as all other Mortal children: sleigh riding, husky sledding and snowshoe walking through the wilderness. There was even a stop to visit the ice maze.

“Do you remember the mazes the Valar have?” he asked as he put the folder aside.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Oh yes, especially that one of Námo’s. That Vala is one crazy dude, as the Mortals would say.”

“I sincerely hope you don’t tell him that to his face,” Finrod said with a wry look.

“I’m not that stupid or suicidal,” Glorfindel retorted. “Ah, here we are.”

Finrod looked out the window and saw they had arrived at the resort. Quickly parking the van, they climbed out and headed inside where they were greeted by Marty, the resort owner. “I told Derek not to sweat it,” Marty said after Glorfindel introduced him to Finrod and explained why they were there. “He’s a good worker. I’m seriously considering hiring him full time.”

“I think he would appreciate the offer,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “Derek is… special.”

“Aren’t we all?” Marty retorted and there was no flippancy in his tone. Then he turned to Finrod and to the Elf’s surprise gave him a bow that was anything but awkward. “I am honored to meet you at last, my Lord Finrod. If there is anything you require of me or my people, you need only ask.”

“Thank you,” Finrod replied, feeling suddenly humble. The Man had only met him and already he was pledging himself and his employees to his cause. It defied explanation, but he accepted it for the gift that it was. He was suddenly reminded of Barahir and had to force himself not to lose himself in that particular memory.

“Well, we need to find the Taylors,” Glorfindel said, “and get on the road.”

“Barney is your driver,” Marty said. “He’s got the van all ready for whenever you want to leave. Ah, here are the Taylors.”

Finrod saw a family approach them, the father and mother looking a bit bemused, while the three children merely gawked at them as they approached. Glorfindel turned to them and gave them his warmest smile, placing his hand over his heart and giving them a courteous bow.

“Mae govannen, mellyn nîn. I am your Elf Guide, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, and this is Finrod, who is an apprentice Elf Guide. He will be joining us for the day.”

Finrod gave them his own bow. “The blessings of the Belain and the One be upon you.”

“Bell…ein?” one of the children, a girl-child, asked, sounding the word out.

“The Powers,” Glorfindel answered before Finrod could. “What you would probably call archangels.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” the mother said. “Thank you.”

Finrod refused to look at Glorfindel. Whatever the Valar were, ‘sweet’ was not a word he would ever have associated with them.

“Then, if you are ready, we will go,” Glorfindel said smoothly. “I understand you wish to do some husky sledding. We can do that here and then we will go on to reindeer sleighing. We can visit the ice maze afterwards and then have lunch. After that, we will do some snowshoe walking. Does that meet with your approval?”

“Yes, yes, it does. Thank you,” the children’s father said. “Lead on.”

“Have fun,” Marty said with a smile as he left them to their own devices and in a short amount of time, they were outside with Glorfindel showing them how to hitch up the dog teams that were waiting for them.

The day continued with one activity after another, the children full of excitement and the parents actually relaxing. Finrod found himself joining Glorfindel in teaching them a hymn to Elbereth as they traveled to their next destination and the ice maze found him laughing and making a game of chasing the children as they sought the center. When the day ended and they had said farewell to the Taylors, Finrod gave a contented sigh as he and Glorfindel climbed into the van and headed back to Wiseman. In spite of the fact that his shoulder ached from the stress of using it, he was in high spirits.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “I am glad I came.”

Glorfindel gave him a smile. “And I’m glad you had such a good time. When was the last time you played catch-me as you did with the children today?”

“Too long ago,” Finrod admitted.

“Well, if you’re at all interested, when I have to play Elf Guide again, you’re welcome to come along.”

“Perhaps I will,” Finrod said.

And the rest of the drive home was spent discussing what activities Glorfindel’s next family was interested in doing. By the time they got home it was several hours after dark but a hot meal was waiting for them and Finrod was encouraged by Finda to describe the tour. Several of the others gathered around to hear him speak. The satisfied looks that passed between Glorfindel, Daeron, Vorondur and Valandur as he regaled them with his tale did not escape his notice but he chose to ignore them. If today had been a plot on their part to get him out of his dark mood, then it had succeeded and he was grateful. Perhaps in the ensuing weeks he might even find joy again.

****

Gwador: (Sindarin) Sworn Brother. The plural is gwedyr.

Atto: (Quenya) Hypocoristic form of atar: Father. The Sindarin forms are adar/ada.

Dagor Bragollach: (Sindarin) Battle of Sudden Flame, the fourth of the five great Battles of Beleriand. It was in this battle that Finrod was rescued by Barahir and gave him his ring as pledge of friendship, a pledge Barahir’s son, Beren, later redeemed.

Aranya (Quenya): My king; Laurendil’s usual title for Finrod.





        

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