3: He’s Making a List and Checking it Twice

Glorfindel parked the van in the Safeway Supermarket parking lot and the two got out, crossing the street and entering the town square lined on all sides with quaint shops all brightly decorated. The Gold Nugget Emporium and Café was directly across from them, bedecked with tinsel and lights. The Norway spruce rising in the center of the square was also lit. Even though it was only early afternoon, it was already dark.

“So what sort of trouble were you thinking of getting us into?” Finrod asked as they went down one side of the square.

Glorfindel cast him a bright look. “That remains to be seen. Actually, I thought we’d do a bit of shopping. There are some decorations I want to buy for the house.”

“I would think it was decorated enough,” Finrod retorted.

“Oh, sure, but there are one or two items still missing. Here. This is the place.” He stopped before one shop and opened the door, letting the warmth of the interior embrace them as they entered. Finrod was not sure what type of shop it was but all about them were wreaths and various types of floral arrangements, and they were bombarded by conflicting scents of pine and roses. Glorfindel pointed up to what looked like a ball suspended from a beam. It was covered with sprigs of evergreen and red rosebuds and he thought he saw some mistletoe as well. The ball was topped with filmy red ribbon. “That’s what we want.”

“What is it?”

Glorfindel gave him a sly look. “You’ll find out. Ah… Noah, good afternoon. I’ve come for that.” He pointed to the ball and Noah, a bespectacled Man with graying hair smiled and nodded as he reached up to unhook the ball. “I figured you’d be along soon enough, Loren. That will be a ten. Shall I box it for you?”

“Yes, please,” Glorfindel said as he pulled out his wallet and fished out a bill, handing it to Noah. In a matter of minutes, the ball safely boxed, they left Noah with good wishes for a Merry Christmas and stepped back out into the cold.

“You still haven’t told me what that ball is for,” Finrod said.

“You’ll find out. Telling you would just spoil it. Now, I want to check out something in the bookstore, but alone. Would you mind carrying the box? I won’t be long. Why don’t you wander over to the café and find us a booth? I wouldn’t mind some hot chocolate right about now even if it isn’t Roy’s special blend.”

Finrod was tempted to ask his gwador why he needed to go to the bookstore alone, but decided against it. He had noticed that in the midst of all the holiday cheer there was also a sense of secrecy, of people hiding things from others, yet no one seemed to mind. So he nodded and took the box. “I will meet you there.”

Glorfindel headed across to the other side of the square and Finrod hefted the box, making his way toward the café, stopping every once in a while to admire the window displays of the various shops that he passed. One in particular caught his attention. It was a room in which an old Man, fat and bearded, sat in a chair by a fireplace, holding a long scroll of parchment that fell to the floor and wandered away. He had a quill pen in his hand. Behind him, leaning casually over the chair to read what was on the scroll, was an Elf, clad in a forest green robe, his hair golden and carefully braided with warrior braids in the style worn by those from Gondolin. It was a remarkably cozy scene with many subtle details that he only noticed the longer he looked: the fire that actually appeared real though he suspected it was not; the tiny window that showed snow falling even though the window was inside the shop; the dog and cat sleeping peacefully on the hearth; the plate of cookies and milk by the chair; the various toys scattered about the room.

“Wiseman is the only place where Santa’s Elves are tall and beautiful.”

He turned to see a young Woman with rich brown curls whom he did not know standing next to him, staring into the window. She turned and gave him a bright, suggestive smile. “Now there’s an Elf I wouldn’t mind being naughty with.”

Finrod felt himself blushing for no particular reason and the Woman laughed. It was gay and there was nothing malicious or lascivious about it. She held out her hand and he shook it, a Mortal custom he was learning to accept. “Gloria Richards. I’m the lead singer of the Arctic Fringe.”

“Arctic Fringe?”

“A local rock band.”

Now Finrod was thoroughly confused. “Um… what do you do with the rocks?”

Gloria threw back her head and laughed again. “Oh my. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“Forgive me….”

“No, your Majesty, it is I who ask for your forgiveness. I forget that you are new come to these shores and would not necessarily know all there is to know about us.” Her tone was oddly formal, which rather surprised him. He was (slowly) getting used to being spoken to by the Mortals with a level of familiarity that no Elf in Aman would presume to use with him if they were not kith and kin.

“I am no longer a king,” he said wistfully. “Please, just call me Finrod or Quinn.”

Gloria gave him an enquiring look and he found himself blushing again. “It is my… um… Mortal name: Quinn O’Brien. Daeron says the names together mean ‘noble wisdom’.” He gave her a shrug. “Loremasters.”

She laughed again and Finrod found he enjoyed hearing it. “Well… Quinn, to answer your question, a rock band is a group of people who play a particular type of music known as rock music. It’s difficult to explain. You would have to hear it. The Arctic Fringe will be playing at the annual Christmas Ball at the Grange Hall this weekend. I’m sure Loren will be there, along with the other Wiseman Elves. You should ask him about it if you’re interested.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“Well, I still have miles to go before I sleep, as the poet says, so I will bid you a good-day, sir, and a Merry Christmas.” She gave him a nod.

“Merry Christmas,” he answered back. She made her way across the square and Finrod watched her, suddenly reminded of Amarië, and finding he missed her terribly. Gloria looked nothing like his beloved, but she had a warm and friendly spirit that was similar to Amarië’s. He shook his head and gave a last look at the window display before moving on to find Glorfindel waiting for him in front of the café.

“I thought you’d gotten lost,” he said and while his tone was light, Finrod could detect the note of worry beneath it.

“I was admiring the window displays and spoke with a young Woman named Gloria.”

“Ah, the fair Gloria Richards,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “Careful, my lord, she’s already spoken for.”

Finrod gave him a disbelieving look. “As am I, if I recall correctly.”

His gwador laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s go in and warm up, then we’ll head back to the mansion.”

“I thought we were supposed to be getting into trouble,” Finrod said as they entered the Emporium and made their way into the café area. The café was only half full and most of the people there apparently had been shopping for they were surrounded by bags.

“Oh well, in this café we can find plenty of trouble,” Glorfindel said as they slipped into a booth by one of the windows. “You never know which one of the Powers will drop by for a chat.”

Before Finrod could respond to that, a waitress came over with menus. Glorfindel smiled at her. “Just some hot chocolate for me, please.”

“I will have the same,” Finrod said and the Woman left to fill their order. Finrod stared out the window watching people passing and the two sat in silence. The waitress came back a few minutes later with their hot chocolates and Finrod concentrated on drinking. “Gloria mentioned something about a Christmas Ball.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Yes. It’s an annual event, held at the Grange Hall. We went last year. Everyone dresses quite formally. Are you interested in going? We had decided not to go this year because there are so many more of us, but if you’re interested, I can see about obtaining tickets. I think they’re still available.”

“Gloria said her band would be playing there,” Finrod replied. “I am curious to know about this… um… rock band of hers.”

“The Arctic Fringe. A good band and Gloria has a lovely voice.”

Both Elves looked up at the sound of the dark, melodious voice and saw Lord Námo standing there in his Nate disguise of black duster and wide-brimmed hat, grinning at them.

“Hello, Nate,” Glorfindel said with a cheeky grin. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

Nate removed the hat and casually corralled a nearby chair, turning it about so he was straddling it. Ignoring Glorfindel, he gave Finrod a sympathetic look. “I understand you’ve been feeling depressed lately.”

Finrod rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone think I am depressed?” he demanded. “I am not depressed, I am just… missing Amarië and my other children, perhaps?”

“I’m sure that is part of it,” Nate said with a nod, “but only a small part. You suffered a grievous wound and you are still dealing with the aftermath.”

“I suppose,” Finrod averred somewhat reluctantly, staring down at his cup of hot chocolate.

“There is no ‘I suppose’ about it, gwador,” Glorfindel said firmly. “I’ve seen you watching Finda, as if you’re almost afraid to let him out of your sight. I know about the nightmares you’ve been having. What happened to you was traumatic and not even you are immune to the aftereffects of being shot.”

“As if you would know,” Finrod shot back with a sneer, which he instantly regretted when he saw Glorfindel’s pained expression.

“I do, Finrod,” Glorfindel said quietly. “Don’t think you’re the first person or at least the first Elf to have suffered being shot.”

Finrod raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask for more details, Nate intervened. “I also understand Fionwë issued you a challenge.”

“Challenge? What challenge?” Glorfindel demanded. “And when did this happen?”

“Just before I met you and Daeron,” Finrod answered. “He challenged me to find the meaning of Christmas.”

“I told you….”

“The deeper meaning of Christmas,” Finrod said. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“At any rate, I wish you luck in your search, Findaráto,” Nate said.

“And you showed up just to tell me this, my lord?” Finrod demanded with a wry look.

“No. I am here for another purpose,” the Lord of Mandos said, smiling. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out several tickets, placing them on the table. “Enough for anyone who wishes to go.”

Glorfindel picked one up. “These are tickets to the Christmas Ball,” he said almost accusingly.

“Yes. Had you enquired, you would have learned that the ball had been sold out. We thought Finrod and the other Valinórean Elves would enjoy it.”

“We?” Finrod asked.

Nate nodded as he stood and returned the chair to its original place but did not elaborate and the two Elves could guess just who ‘we’ were. “Oh, and don’t worry about obtaining formal wear. My wife has been busy with that. So, enjoy yourselves, Children.” Then he gave them a sly look. “And do try to stay out of trouble. Santa is keeping an eye on you both.” He actually snickered as he walked away, fading into the fabric of the universe.

After a moment of silence between the two Elves, Glorfindel gave Finrod a considering look. “So, do you want to go to the ball?”

“Yes. I would like to see how these Mortals entertain themselves. Will it be anything like what we have in Aman?”

“Yes, or perhaps no. I’m not sure. I’ve gotten so used to not comparing what I knew in elven society to what is true in any Mortal one that I happened to be living in that I can’t really say anymore. You’ll have to wait and see for yourself. There will be dancing, just not the kind you know. I suppose we’ll need to give everyone a crash course on one or two of the slow dances so you’re not spending the night standing about watching everyone else having fun.”

Finrod nodded as he finished drinking his hot chocolate. He glanced out the window. “It’s snowing again,” he commented.

“It’s what it does this time of year,” Glorfindel said with a smile as he pulled out his wallet and left some money on the table, scooping up the tickets and shoving them into a coat pocket. “Let’s get back to the house. It’s my turn to cook dinner. I think I’ll order pizza instead. We’ll stop at Mario’s Pizza Parlour and put in an order. I’ll have Dan and Roy pick it up on their way home from the hospital. They said their shift ends today around five.”

“Let us go, then,” Finrod said and he grabbed the box and his cloak and they headed out the door.

****

Later, as they were all munching on pizza, Glorfindel told them about Lord Námo giving him tickets to the Christmas Ball for anyone who wanted to go. “And we were assured that formal wear would be made available to us.”

“We’d better teach you a couple of the dances,” Gilvegil said to the Valinórean Elves. “The waltz and the fox trot?” He cast an enquiring look Glorfindel’s way.

Glorfindel nodded. “Those will do. We’ll use the conference room to practice in. So anyone who is interested in going, just take a ticket.” Naturally, they all wanted to go.

“And don’t forget the Secret Santa,” Daeron said and when asked, he explained what Grace had told them at lunch. Everyone thought it was a good idea and they spent a few minutes putting their names on paper and throwing them into one of the shoe boxes that were used for the Elvish Name Lottery at the Academy. Daeron pointed out that with an odd number of people playing, either someone would have to not play or would have to be Secret Santa for two people.

“It would be unfair for someone to be left out of the fun,” Helyanwë said, speaking for everyone else.

“Then, if you agree, I will be Secret Santa for the last two names,” Daeron said and they all nodded. “If you draw your own name, do not put it back until you’ve drawn another name,” he told them as he covered the box and shook it, then uncovered it and held it out. “Who’s first?”

For a moment they all stood about, giving one another uncertain glances, as if afraid to be the first to make a move. Glorfindel chuckled. “We’ll go by order of age starting with the youngest,” he said and Serindë stepped forward, giving them a shy smile as she reached in and snagged a piece of paper, opening it so no one could see, then shoving it into her pocket, stepping away. One by one they stepped in front of Daeron and reached in. One or two people drew their own names and in each case Daeron took a second to close the box and shake it before letting the next person draw. When they were finished drawing names, Glorfindel reminded them about leaving clues.

“At least three clues should be given but no more than four and the last clue should be left no later than the day before Christmas Eve. We will limit gifts to no more than ten dollars in value and if you wish to make a gift rather than buying one, that is acceptable. We will open our Secret Santa gifts on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day will be reserved for our Mortal friends.”

Finrod had hoped he would pick Glorfindel’s name but, in fact, he had drawn Cennanion’s. He did not know the ellon very well, indeed knew nothing about him other than the fact that he was a Sinda who had once lived in Lothlórien, his sister’s realm, and he played the flute. He supposed it did not matter. The ellon was as deserving of a gift as his gwador and while he was a bit disappointed at not being able to be Glorfindel’s Secret Santa, even as he was joining the others in the library for an evening of song, he felt a rising sense of excitement at the thought of devising clues for the game and he felt almost like an elfling or a newly released Reborn again.

As he settled himself into a chair, ready to enjoy the evening’s entertainment, he decided it wasn’t a bad way to feel.