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Christmas at Edhellond: An Elf Academy Tale  by Fiondil

6: I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

The next few days passed quietly. Finrod organized his clues, leaving the first one on the mantle of the fireplace in the library when no one was there to see him. It was the statue of the woman holding a torch, a slip of paper tied around its base with a bit of red yarn pilfered from one of the ellith’s knitting stash. On one side he had written Cennanion’s name and on the other the words ‘Guess who?’. Perhaps it was too obvious, but he figured that it would give him time to come up with better clues which he could leave with the candy. The last clue would be the harp ornament.

As for his Secret Santa, he pondered the first clue he’d been given. It seemed that the fact that the word ‘law’ had been highlighted was significant, but he would have to wait for additional clues before deciding what it might mean.

On Saturday morning they woke — those who had bothered to even go to bed — to find formal wear hanging in their closets. The ellith all brought out their gowns to show each other, exclaiming how perfectly the colors matched them. In his closet Finrod found what Glorfindel identified as a tuxedo complete with shirt, a red bow tie and cummerbund. There were even dress shoes.

“So, does everything turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” Elladan asked with a cheeky grin when they were examining each other’s clothes.

“It better not!” Alphwen retorted and the Wiseman Elves all laughed. Those from Valinor just shrugged, unsure to what Elladan was referring and deciding they didn’t really want to bother finding out.

“Way too embarrassing if it did,” Barahir said. “Just in case, though, I think I’ll bring another suit with me.”

“Or just be sure you’re safe home before midnight,” Cennanion retorted.

“I am sure that these clothes will not suddenly disappear on us,” Glorfindel said with a grin. “The Valar aren’t that cruel. The Ball begins at eight. We’ll plan to leave around seven-thirty.”

“The moon will be completely full tonight and they are promising clear skies, so it should be quite lovely, even magical, as the Mortals would say, though I think ‘enchanting’ would be a better word,” Ercassë said.

“It will be special,” Glorfindel said with a nod. “The people of Wiseman look forward to this night every year. It’s the highlight of the season. The winters here are long and the days are dark. This Ball is one way in which they drive out the darkness.”

“Much as we do with our Midwinter balls,” Finrod said.

“Yes, very much so,” Glorfindel responded.

****

Finrod spent the day at the college helping Glorfindel with some of the administrative duties that normally fell to Zach Austin, but Glorfindel had sent the young Man home to his parents shortly after the trial with orders not to show his face before New Year’s. Finrod had approved the plan, for he could see how haunted the Mortal was by his recent ordeal. Vorondur had seconded Glorfindel’s orders and had even contacted a colleague in Anchorage, setting up an appointment for Zach.

“Jonathan Atherton is an excellent psychologist, very sympathetic and good at getting people to open up to him,” Vorondur had told Glorfindel and Finrod. “Zach will like him.”

And so Glorfindel found himself without an assistant. Finrod volunteered to help. “It will be like old times, neh?” he had said with a smile when he made the offer.

“Just so long as we don’t burn the building down,” Glorfindel had quipped.

Finrod had sniffed in disdain. “You are no fun.”

Everyone had laughed, Glorfindel laughing the loudest.

At the Academy Glorfindel explained the intricacies of the computer to him and what needed to be done, then left him to go to a meeting with the college president and the board of trustees. “It should not take long,” he told Finrod, “but with Mortals, you never know.”

“I will be fine,” Finrod assured him. “And if I run into any trouble, I will call Daeron.”

As it was, he had little trouble except when he wished to print a document out. He decided not to call for help, but stepped out of the office and wandered down the hall until he came upon one of the Mortals who lived at the Academy, asking if she could help him. The young Woman gave him a surprised look but followed him readily enough, introducing herself as Lucy Barton. She quickly showed him how to print out and even stayed long enough to make sure that the printer was working properly before leaving. Finrod thanked her graciously and then, without really thinking about it, he asked her if she wouldn’t mind showing him how to find information on the computer.

“I wish to learn more about your holiday customs,” he explained to her, “but other than to importune people with my questions, I have no idea how to find the information I need.”

When Glorfindel returned about an hour or so later, he found Lucy sitting next to Finrod, apparently showing him something from YouTube, the two of them listening to someone singing a Christmas carol.

“I thought I left you working,” he said with a grin.

Finrod merely pointed to a pile of papers on the desk and smiled back. Lucy excused herself, saying she needed to review the tour she was giving in the morning and the two Elves bade her farewell.

“Thank you again for all your help,” Finrod said, rising from his seat and giving her a courtly bow.

“My pleasure,” Lucy replied, giving them both a smile as she left.

“Well, if you’re through playing, why don’t we head back home and get ready for the Ball?” Glorfindel suggested.

“Let me just turn off the computer,” Finrod said and five minutes later they were on their way back to Edhellond.

****

“And this is considered formal wear among Mortals?” Finrod asked a while later as he allowed Glorfindel to help him with his tie.

“In this culture, yes,” Glorfindel said as he stood behind Finrod, the two of them standing before a mirror while Glorfindel tied the bow. Glorfindel was already dressed, his golden hair unbraided, tied back with black ribbon. Finrod’s hair was the same. “Wiseman is not the big city, by any stretch of the imagination, and the people who live here are not what we would call sophisticated, but they are proud of their heritage and the Christmas Ball is a tradition that goes back almost to the founding of the town. This Ball is eagerly waited for by the townspeople, though admittedly not everyone attends. Yet, there will be smaller, less formal gatherings in other parts of the town for those who do not wish to dress so formally. In effect, the entire town dances the night away tonight. There, all set, and don’t you look the handsome dude. You’ll have all the women insisting you dance with them.”

“I just hope I remember the steps,” Finrod said with a smile. “The dances you taught us are rather… um… strange.”

Glorfindel patted him on the shoulder, smiling into the mirror. “You’ll do fine and you are not required to dance with any of the women if you don’t wish to, though I think you should at least dance with Nielluin.”

“That goes without saying,” Finrod said. “She is my niece and I am her oldest male relative. She would not be able to dance with anyone until I have danced with her.”

“In our culture, yes, but not in this one,” Glorfindel replied. “Once she’s danced with you and Finda, then she should be allowed to dance with whomever she pleases, though I suspect most of the male Mortals will be too intimidated by her… um… beauty to ask her.” Finrod chuckled and Glorfindel grinned, then continued, “At any rate, we’ve taught you a couple of the more popular slow dances, since their steps are easier to remember, but do not feel obligated to dance if you do not wish to. Shall we go?”

Finrod nodded and they headed downstairs where everyone was beginning to gather. He noticed Glorfindel’s eyes lighting up at the sight of Helyanwë and hid a smile. The elleth was dressed in a beautiful deep green velvet gown that complemented her eyes, her silver-golden hair carefully coifed in an intricate crown of braids plaited with emeralds. She looked like her great-grandmother, Alassiel, whom, he suspected, his gwador had had some feelings for, but she had fallen in love with Sador and Glorfindel had not begrudged either of them their love. It was just as well, Finrod reflected, with Glorfindel destined to return to Middle-earth. Alassiel would never have been permitted to go with him and that would have been unbearable for them both. Now, however, things were different and he rejoiced that his gwador had at last found someone to love and who could return that love. He wondered if there would be more than one wedding in the future, then pushed that thought away as he looked for Nielluin whom he would be escorting as her oldest male kin. The Mortals might not hold to such proprieties, but Finrod felt responsible for his niece and would not consider doing otherwise. He smiled as he saw her, dressed in a filmy gossamer gown of pale rose, her hair less formally coifed as befitted a younger ellith. She offered him a shy look as he approached.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear,” he said as he took her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you, Uncle, and you look quite… um… different in these clothes.”

“You mean I look ridiculous,” Finrod said with a laugh. “I feel rather ridiculous. The Mortals of this time have little sense of taste.”

“Nonsense, Finrod. I think you look splendid, you all do,” Nimrodel said and the other ellith murmured their agreement.

“Well, let us go,” Glorfindel said, offering his elbow to Helyanwë as he opened the front door. As it was a clear night, the Elves had decided to walk to the Grange Hall. Setting off down the street with Findalaurë, Calandil and Elennen in the lead carrying old-fashioned lanterns, they made quite a spectacle. Ercassë started singing a hymn to Elbereth and they all joined in. As they came closer to the Grange Hall, the traffic along the street came to a halt as the Mortals watched their procession go by, many of them rolling down their windows to listen to the singing. The few pedestrians moved quickly out of their way, flattening themselves against buildings and gaping at them. The Elves ignored it all.

Once at the Grange Hall, they made their way to a side door, for the main doors were closed. Inside they found attendants to take their cloaks and then they made their way down the corridor into the main hall. It had been transformed and Finrod looked about appreciatively at the swags of balsam and red ribbon and twinkling white lights that were the main decorations. The stage on which he had held his Court was now covered with a variety of equipment. He recognized none of it, but he saw Gloria Richards, dressed in a white sequined gown, standing there, speaking to others whom he suspected were members of the band as they looked over their instruments. Along one wall were set several tables on which were plates of delicacies and large crystal-cut bowls filled with punch. People congregated along the sides, leaving the center of the room empty. Glorfindel gestured for them to move to the right, out of the way of the doors to allow others to enter.

“There will be a brief welcoming speech from the mayor and then the first dance, which is always a waltz,” he explained to the Valinórean Elves. “As I told Finrod, no one is obligated to dance, though I hope you will dance at least once. If you’re not sure which dance steps to use, just find one of us and we’ll tell you or watch the Mortals. The fast dances will be somewhat different.”

“How different?” Prince Legolas asked as he accepted a glass of champagne from a server who was mingling with the crowds.

“It’s rather hard to describe,” Daeron answered. “You’ll have to see for yourselves. The important thing is simply to enjoy yourselves. Mingle with the Mortals, ask them about their families and their work and what they hope for in the coming New Year and speak about your own hopes and dreams. If they ask questions, answer them as truthfully as you can and don’t be surprised at what they may ask you. They are not being rude, merely curious, and you must not take offense.”

“Hey! You’re here!”

Everyone looked to see Alex Grant smiling at them. With him were Derek and an older gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to Derek, though his hair was graying and his eyes were brown instead of hazel as were Derek’s. Like the ellyn, they were all dressed in tuxedos.

“Good evening,” Glorfindel said, speaking for them all. “Don’t you look the dashing dudes.”

Alex and Derek laughed and the older Man snorted in amusement. Then Derek made the introductions. “This is my dad, Andrew Lowell. Dad, this is Loren, Darren and Quinn and I’ll let everyone else introduce themselves, but they’re all friends of mine.”

“Glad t’finally meet ya all,” Andrew Lowell said as he shook hands with Glorfindel, Daeron and Finrod. “Especially you,” he gave Glorfindel a significant look. “All I’ve heard since comin’ here has been ‘Loren this and Loren that’. You don’t walk on water, do ya?” He winked and Glorfindel and several others laughed while Derek blushed.

“Not recently,” Glorfindel said. “I’m glad to finally meet you as well, Mr. Lowell. Derek is a fine young man and I know you must be very proud of him.”

“I am and the name’s Andy.”

“Andy. And how are you liking Alaska so far?”

“Well, it ain’t sunny California, that’s for sure, but it’s pretty enough. My son seems happy here and that’s all that matters to me, though this Elf Guide business....” He shook his head.

“I won’t always be an Elf Guide, Dad,” Derek said, “but it’s a start, and hey, I haven’t told you my news.” He turned to the Elves with a huge grin. “Marty, the manager at the resort where I’m working, offered me a permanent position.”

“Congratulations,” Glorfindel said and everyone else echoed him.

“So what will you do after the season ends?” Nielluin asked.

“Marty wants me to continue acting as a tour guide for now, though not as an Elf. He also thinks I might help out as a sort of assistant to the assistant manager, get some training there with the idea that eventually I might take over for Bobbie. She’s getting married in a couple of months and then she and her husband are moving to Anchorage where he now works and I guess a couple of the other guides will be heading off to college so Marty will be short of staff.”

“Well, we’re all very happy for you, Derek, and wish you all the luck,” Glorfindel said. “What about you, Alex? Still interested in teaching Beginning Italian and French?”

“Oh sure,” Alex answered. “And I’ve applied to the University of Alaska in Fairbanks for their graduate linguistics program. In fact, I got the letter of acceptance today. Most of my classes will be online or via teleconferencing so it shouldn’t interfere with my teaching schedule. I can’t imagine too many students wanting to take either language.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Daeron said with a faint smile. “Ah, it looks as if the Ball is about to be officially opened.”

Everyone looked to see Mayor Whitman walking up to the stage and taking a microphone from Gloria. “Good evening,” he exclaimed, “and welcome to the ninetieth anniversary of our Christmas Ball. I want to especially welcome our friends from Edhellond who have graced us with their presence.” He gave a short bow in their direction and there was a scattering of applause. “And so, without further delay, I declare the Christmas Ball officially open. Have a good time everyone.” He handed the microphone back to Gloria as everyone clapped and then the lights dimmed somewhat and the Arctic Fringe began playing a waltz tune.

Finrod watched as Glorfindel escorted Helyanwë onto the floor along with Daeron, who was escorting Melyanna, Vorondur and Ercassë, Amroth and Nimrodel, and Elrohir and Serindë. Even Elladan was dancing with Eirien and the other Wiseman ellyn had also partnered with one of the ellith. The Valinórean Elves hung back, content to watch the Mortals. Finrod noticed the wistful look on his niece’s face as she watched the dancers. Before he could move to take her onto the dance floor, Alex spoke up.

“Would you care to dance, Nell?”

She gave him a surprised look but when he held out his hand, she glanced at Finrod, who nodded, and then she gave Alex a shy smile as she took his hand. Finrod watched as Alex gracefully swung her into the dance and they swirled away.

“Dude’s a cool dancer,” Derek commented with a fond smile as he and his father stood by watching.

“Will you not dance?” Finrod asked.

“Oh sure,” Derek drawled. “Just as soon as I’ve had too much punch to care how many left feet I have.”

The Elves all smiled and Derek’s father shook his head and rolled his eyes. The dance came to an end and then another song was played, this one with Gloria singing a lively tune and Finrod watched in open-mouthed amazement as people began gyrating. He saw Glorfindel and Helyanwë make their way to where the Elves were congregated. Amroth and Nimrodel also came off the floor as did Alex and Nielluin but the others remained dancing. Derek straightened his lanky frame as Alex and Nielluin approached.

“My turn?” he asked, holding out his hand to Nielluin, who looked quite happy to accept and soon the two of them were gyrating with the others, though Nielluin was a little hesitant, glancing around at the other dancers to see what they were doing. Derek took her hands and whispered something to her and she nodded and he began showing her some steps.

Alex, meanwhile, was speaking with Amroth, Nimrodel and Mithrellas. “C’mon, Grandmama,” he said to Mithrellas, giving her a wicked grin, “let’s you and me boogey.” Mithrellas giggled as she accepted Alex’s hand while Amroth and Nimrodel waved them cheerily onto the floor before joining Finrod and the others, accepting cups of punch which Glorfindel handed them.

“This is dancing?” Vardamir asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

Amroth grinned. “So they tell me. I stopped trying to figure it out when the Charleston came into vogue. The waltz is about my speed.”

“It looks… um… fun,” Prince Legolas said, “but why do they even bother with a partner?”

“Because dancing by yourself is totally not cool, as the Mortals would say,” Glorfindel replied with a grin.

“But there’s no pattern to the steps,” Manwen exclaimed.

“You dance to the rhythm,” Nimrodel explained. “You let the music take you where it wishes to go,” and she began swaying even while in Amroth’s arms. He kissed her gently on the forehead and whispered something. She nodded and without a word they joined the other dancers.

Glorfindel gave Finrod and the others looking on a smile. “Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of slow dances. In the meantime, why don’t we spread out a bit and mingle? Right now we look like a bunch of losers huddled together.”

Erestor, an arm around his beloved wife Lindorillë’s waist, gave him a sniff of disdain. “That’s your opinion,” he said, “but you are correct that we should mingle and get to know these people better. My dear, shall we?” Lindorillë nodded and the two went off, stopping to introduce themselves to a group of Mortals who were visiting one another. That seemed to be the signal for the others and soon they were drifting away, leaving Finrod alone with Glorfindel and Helyanwë. The song ended about then and a new one began, this one slower but apparently not a waltz, for Finrod watched as couples wrapped their arms around each other and stepped in small circles. Several of them apparently were holding soft conversations with their partners, for he could see their lips moving.

“Go and dance,” Glorfindel said to him.

“Nielluin seems occupied,” Finrod replied, nodding to where his niece was now dancing with Findalaurë, the two of them surreptitiously watching the Mortals around them and trying to copy their movements. He watched as Alex, now dancing with a young Mortal woman whom he did not know, moved beside them and spoke, perhaps giving them some dancing tips, for Finda and Nielluin both nodded and then looked more relaxed as they danced. At one point, much to Finrod’s surprise, Alex and Finda exchanged partners and he watched as the Mortal woman apparently was giving his son some instruction.

“There are other women who would love to dance,” Glorfindel pointed out as he led Helyanwë onto the dance floor.

Finrod looked about, watching the various couples, missing Amarië even more than usual and feeling suddenly tired. He recognized the signs, the feeling of despair washing over him, wishing he could just leave, knowing that would be impossible.

“Would you like to dance?”

He turned to see a Woman standing there, one whom he recognized. “Is your husband not here?” he asked, giving her a smile.

“Oh, Dave is around here somewhere,” Janna Michaelson, wife of Wiseman’s Chief of Police, said with a dismissive wave of a hand. “Probably talking shop with Harry and Carl,” she added, naming the mayor and the county Sheriff.

“I thought it was the man’s duty to ask for a dance,” Finrod said.

Janna gave an unlady-like snort. “My lord, if the women waited for the men to get up enough nerve to ask us for a dance, we’d all die of old age before that miracle happened.”

Finrod laughed and Janna smirked. “Then, if you do not mind dancing with someone who has no idea how to do your dances, then I would be honored, gracious lady,” he said with a slight bow, holding out his hand for her to take.

And so he danced and found that it was not as difficult as he thought it would be. Janna was a patient teacher, showing him where to place his hands and giving him quiet instructions. When the song ended, the next one was also a slow dance and he continued dancing with Janna, asking about her children and telling her about his own. When that dance ended, they left the floor, Finrod leading her to where he saw Dave Michaelson standing with Carl Graff and Harry Whitman, with Harry’s and Carl’s wives talking to each other while the men conversed. They all looked up as Finrod and Janna approached.

“Here is your lovely wife, David Michaelson,” he said. “I think she would like to dance with her husband.” Then he gave Harry and Carl significant looks. “As I believe your own wives would. When I was king of Nargothrond, I made it a point of etiquette that no discussion of a political or martial kind was to take place during a feast. The first time someone ignored that particular rule the poor fool found himself on the other side of the doors of my kingdom with only his weapons and the clothes on his back.”

“What happened the next time?” Dave asked, looking at him with amusement.

Finrod gave him a cool look. “There was no ‘next time’.”

“Ah….” Dave said then gave his wife a smile. “Would you care to dance, my dear?”

“Thought you would never ask,” Janna said with a wink to Finrod as she allowed her husband to escort her. Harry and Carl followed with their wives, Harry’s wife giving him a grateful smile.

“Nicely done.”

Finrod turned to see an amused looking Námo standing next to him. Like Finrod, the Vala was wearing a tuxedo with a maroon tie and cummerbund, his dark hair unbraided and tied back with a black ribbon. Lady Vairë was with him, looking lovely in a dark maroon gown.

“Are you here for the dancing, too?” Finrod asked.

“My husband is a big fan of the Arctic Fringe,” Vairë said with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “He has all their CDs.”

Finrod gave them a disbelieving look. Námo simply smirked as he gave Finrod a slight bow before taking Vairë onto the dance floor. Finrod watched as they swirled away among the other dancers and he was never afterward sure if they faded away or he simply lost sight of them in the darkness of the Hall, but he did not see them again that evening.

The Ball continued until midnight. Finrod did dance with Nielluin eventually and with a few others, but generally he spent the evening mingling, occasionally catching sight of the other Elves as they, too, mingled or danced. The Arctic Fringe took a short break around ten and the lights came up slightly, giving people more illumination. Many took advantage of the lull to fill their plates with food and Finrod was introduced to fondue, both cheese and chocolate. Then, as the clock turned to midnight, the Arctic Fringe finished one last dance number and then Gloria spoke.

“I hope you all had a good time tonight.” There was much applause and cheering and it was a moment before she could continue. “We’d like to finish up with one last song, a Christmas carol, that speaks to all our hopes and dreams for a brighter future for ourselves and our children.” She paused and then one of the musicians started playing.

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day, their old familiar carols play, and mild and sweet their songs repeat: Peace on Earth, good will to Men. And the bells are ringing, like a choir singing. In my heart I hear them: Peace on Earth, good will to Men….”

Finrod watched the Mortals around him as they listened to the song. No one was dancing. Many of the couples had their arms around each other, gently swaying to the music.

“And in despair I bowed my head. There is no peace on Earth, I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on Earth, good will to Men….”

Finrod felt a lump in his throat, feeling as if the words were speaking to his own sense of despair.

“Then rang the bells more loud and deep: God is not dead nor doth He sleep. The wrong shall fail, the right prevail with peace on Earth, good will to Men….”

Finrod noticed Alex and Derek standing nearby with other Mortals he knew as they listened to Gloria singing and saw expressions of hope and determination on their faces. They knew that a war, the Final Battle, was coming. When, was anyone’s guess. They knew that they themselves might not live to see it, but perhaps their children or grandchildren might. The very thought had to frighten them, he could not doubt it, and yet, there was no sense of despair or anger in them. There was only hope… estel… something he had lost along with his life’s blood from a bullet wound. He felt tears flowing down his cheeks as he listened to the final verse of the song.

“Do you hear the bells, they’re ringing? The life the angels singing. Open your hearts and hear them: Peace on Earth… peace on Earth… peace on Earth, good will to Men.”

The music faded away and the hall was completely silent. “Merry Christmas everyone, and good night,” Gloria said softly into the microphone and the entire hall burst into loud applause as the lights came up. Finrod swiped at the tears on his face, hoping no one had seen. Glorfindel came up to him.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Should we not stay and help put things away?” Finrod enquired.

“Cleaning crew is already here waiting for us to leave,” Glorfindel replied. “Come. It looks as if it’s started to snow again.” Then he gave Finrod a searching look. “Are you all right, gwador?”

“Yes, I am,” Finrod said, straightening. “Shall we go find the others?”

Glorfindel stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Yes. Let’s go. Roy and Sarah have already left. They’ll have hot chocolate waiting for us when we get home.”

“That sounds good to me,” Finrod said and together the two began rounding up the others, giving their Mortal friends their farewells and then they were outside, pulling up the hoods of their cloaks against the snow gently falling as they set off.

The Mortals who happened to see them pass watched in wonder at the glow of light that surrounded them, so that they appeared to be moving in a bright mist.

****

Ellith: (Eldarin) Plural of elleth: a female Elf.

Note: The version of ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day’ that inspired this chapter is a rendition sung by Casting Crowns. You can hear them singing this song on YouTube.





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