Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Christmas at Edhellond: An Elf Academy Tale  by Fiondil

12: Adam Lay Ybounden

Father Waverly invited Finrod and Fionwë for dinner as the three left the church. Finrod’s first inclination was to decline, but then he thought better of it and accepted when he realized the Man would most likely end up eating alone. He wondered sadly if the priest often ate alone. Fionwë simply smiled and, without a word, walked down the steps and crossed the street, fading into the fabric of the universe, leaving behind the scent of apples and mint. The priest stood there gaping. Finrod gave him a sympathetic look.

“It does take getting used to,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I suppose so,” the Mortal said, shaking his head, then shrugging. “Well, standing out here in the cold won’t get us that dinner.”

Finrod grinned as he followed Waverly back to the rectory. In minutes, Finrod was seated at the kitchen table while Waverly puttered around, insisting that he needed no help. “We’ll just throw this casserole into the oven to warm up per Mrs. Bernstein’s instructions,” he said as he opened the oven door. “It will only take about twenty minutes. Would you care for some wine while we wait?”

“Please. And I had better call Edhellond to let them know where I am.” He fished out his phone and was soon speaking to Alphwen, who assured him that she would let the others know not to expect him for dinner.

Meanwhile, Waverly opened a door and descended into the cellar, returning a moment later with a bottle of wine which he opened and poured into a couple of glasses, handing one to Finrod. “Oh, before I forget.” He exited the kitchen and went down the hall, returning a few minutes later with a book in his hand. “Here. You can take this with you.” He handed the book to Finrod. On the front were the words Holy Bible. Finrod opened it randomly.

“It’s a fairly recent and accurate translation of the original languages and you will see that there is commentary throughout to help you understand what you’re reading,” Waverly said as he took his own seat, sipping on the wine. “My suggestion is that you read the first book, Genesis. You’ll read about Abraham in that one. Then read the next book, Exodus, where you’ll meet Moses. You can read about David in the two Books of Samuel.”

“What about this Jesus?” Finrod asked.

“There are four books, Gospels we call them, from an old word meaning ‘good news’. Mark is the shortest one and you can start with that. Matthew and Luke both have infancy narratives, though they differ, and John is out there somewhere with his poetic language and long discourses. These are not biographies or histories in the way we think of them today, you have to understand. These are accounts of one people’s encounters with God, written by many different authors over time. They are really separate books bound together. If you want to get a flavor of how the ancient Hebrews thought about God and their relationship with Him, read the psalms.” He took the book from Finrod, flipping it to a particular section and showed it to him. “These are the ancient songs and hymns of the people and we still use them today.”

Finrod nodded and took the book back, glancing at the page while Waverly went to check on the casserole. “What did Fionwë mean when he said that I was not the only person to give up a crown for a Mortal?” Finrod asked.

“Hmm… oh… uh… well… here, it’s better if you just read it.” The priest took back the book and flipped it to a page toward the back, then handing it to Finrod. “This is John’s description of Jesus, whom he referred to as Logos, the Word of God.”

Finrod glanced at the page and began reading aloud. “In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning....”

“This is the line that’s important,” Waverly said, pointing further down the page and began quoting. “’The Word was made flesh and lived among us’. Literally, the phrase in Greek is ‘he pitched his tent among us’. Now, keep these verses in mind.” He took the book and flipped it to another page, then handed it to Finrod. “Here, these verses.”

Again Finrod read out loud. “His state was divine, yet he did not cling to his equality with God but emptied himself to assume the condition of a slave, and became as men are…”

He looked up at the priest, giving him a pensive look. “On a spring morning I visited a Mortal named Andreth of the House of Bëor. She was a wise-woman of her people. We spent that morning discussing the nature of Men and mortality. During that discussion, she mentioned the Old Hope, something that she herself did not believe in.”

“And what exactly was this Old Hope?” Waverly asked, retaking his seat.

“That the One would himself enter into Arda, and heal Men and all the Marring from the beginning to the end. I recall saying that I had no idea how he would manage this, to be both outside and inside Arda, but only that if Melkor’s designs were to be defeated, Eru would have to come into Arda and conquer him, for neither Elves nor Men had the power to do so, not completely.”

Waverly nodded. “And according to the Christians, that’s exactly what God did in the Person of Jesus.”

“You keep saying, ‘according to the Christians’. Are you not a Christian?”

“Oh yes, very much so, but I am being very careful to tell you what Christians believe as opposed to what others believe. Even within Christianity there are different, shall we say, interpretations. Some take the words of the Bible very literally, others not so much, recognizing that some of the language is allegorical or mythical and cannot be taken as straight history, though they are still inspired writings.” The priest shrugged. “Regardless, the central concept that God entered into human history as a means of restoring our relationship with Him is something all Christians agree on.”

“What happened to him, to Jesus?”

Waverly raised an eyebrow. “What happens to us all: he died.”

“But….”

Now the priest smiled. “Do you think God wouldn’t play by his own rules? He came as a man born of woman. He lived and he died, and if he were anyone else, that would be the end of the story, but it isn’t.”

“What is?”

“Ah… well, my suggestion is that you read the Gospels first. Then, if you still have questions, you can certainly come back and we’ll discuss it.”

“Fair enough,” Finrod said, closing the book and setting it aside. “I will be happy to set the table if you show me where your plates and such are.”

Waverly grinned, pointing to a cupboard. “And the silver is in the drawer beneath it. I’ll just get the casserole and cut some bread.”

Within a matter of minutes, the two were eating. Waverly said a brief prayer of thanksgiving before dishing out the casserole and they limited their conversation to the mundane with Waverly describing something of his own life when Finrod asked. Nimrod, having woken from his nap, deigned to join them and accepted tidbits from the plates of both men as his proper due. The casserole was followed by an apple pie and coffee. By then, it was midafternoon and full dark again. Waverly offered to drive him over to Edhellond, but Finrod declined, saying he wished to walk. Clutching the Bible, he stepped outside, thanking the Man for his hospitality. He paused for a moment to stare at the church, remembering what Fionwë had said, then set off, already knowing how he would be spending the rest of the night.

He was about a block away from Sycamore when he heard a horn sound behind him and, turning, saw a van pull up. Glorfindel waved to him and he opened the passenger door and climbed in. “How did your day go?” he asked before Glorfindel could speak.

“Well enough. The family I escorted was from St. Louis. He’s military, retired, and she’s a history teacher. They have a teenage son. They’ve been saving for this trip for about two years, they told me.” Glorfindel chuckled. “They got more than they bargained for. The son recovered more quickly from the shock when I revealed myself to them than his parents and he was asking questions a mile a minute.” He cast Finrod a wide grin. Finrod chuckled. “What about you? How did you spend your day?”

“I learned how to ice skate.”

“Good for you. What’s the book?”

“The Bible. On my way home I passed that church on the corner of Kodiak and Orion, St. Mary of the Snows, and met Father Waverly. He was kind enough to show me the church, for I was curious about it, and then he invited me to share a meal with him. In the course of our discussion, he gave me this to read.”

“Is he trying to convert you?” Glorfindel asked with a grin so Finrod knew he was merely jesting.

“No, but I had some questions that he felt could best be answered if I were to read certain parts of this book. I will start tonight.”

Glorfindel fell silent as he maneuvered the van into the drive and parked. The two got out and went indoors, shedding their outerwear. They could hear the sounds of people conversing further down the hall. Vorondur was coming down the stairs and gave them both a warm smile.

“I hear you went ice skating,” he said to Finrod.

“Yes. I met Gloria Richards and Matthew Stevens and they were kind enough to teach me. It took a bit of practice, but I believe I have it down. Matthew suggested that they teach me skiing next.”

Both Glorfindel and Vorondur chuckled. “A useful skill to have, especially in these parts,” Glorfindel said. “Perhaps if you’re really interested we can arrange for lessons after the holidays.”

“I would like that,” Finrod said.

“What’s the book?” Vorondur asked.

Finrod explained and Vorondur nodded. “Take care in reading. The Bible does not sugar coat things and some of the descriptions can be somewhat disturbing. Between these pages is found both the glory and the shame of the Mortals. And feel free to ask me any questions about what you are reading.”

“Father Waverly said I could come to him if I had any questions.”

“Charles is a fine person, but he does have a certain bias toward Christianity that will necessarily color his words.”

“Perhaps, but I found him to be honest and forthright and… and likeable. Our dinner discussion reminded me of… of earlier, happier times.”

Glorfindel and Vorondur exchanged glances that Finrod could not interpret and he felt a sudden resentment, quickly suppressed. He understood their worrying about him, but it still rankled somewhat.

“Hey, dinner’s getting cold.”

The three ellyn looked to see Ercassë coming down the hall. Vorondur smiled at her and held out his arm so she could enter his embrace. They exchanged light kisses before Ercassë turned to Finrod. “I know you had dinner earlier, but please join us and tell us all about ice skating. Finda and his gwedyr can speak of nothing else.”

Finrod smiled. “I would not mind some tea.” He placed the Bible on a side table and the four made their way to where everyone else was gathered for dinner. It was a couple of hours before Finrod could escape to his room with the Bible. He settled on his bed and opened it up to the first page of Genesis and began reading:

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth….”

****

At some point during the night, Finrod found himself coming downstairs, clutching the Bible. He made his way first to the kitchen where he made himself some chamomile tea, and then wandered back up to the library. He encountered no one, though he could sense that others were still awake even though it was nearly three in the morning and he knew that some were not even in the house but were wandering through the nearby woods, singly or in small groups. They would return later to break their fast with everyone else.

He entered the library and stopped when he saw that it was already occupied. Daeron was sitting by the fire quietly strumming on his harp while Vorondur sat at the desk, his laptop open surrounded by folders. He apparently was still working on the psych files of the Academy students. Both ellyn looked up at his entrance. Vorondur smiled.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I have not tried. I have been reading.”

“How far have you gotten?” Daeron asked, never ceasing his strumming.

“I am in the middle of Daniel.”

“Did you start from the beginning?”

“I followed Charles Waverly’s suggestion and read about Abraham, Moses and David and then I read the Gospels. After that I went back and began reading the books in order, though I confess I skimmed through many of them rather than reading every word. Some of it is rather boring.”

Vorondur and Daeron chuckled. “And what is your impression of what you’ve been reading as a whole?” Vorondur asked.

Finrod sighed as he placed his cup of tea on a side table and settled into the chair next to Daeron. “I am finding it difficult to discern what may be true and what is obviously allegorical. The flood story, for instance.”

“Actually that happened, though not necessarily as described in Genesis,” Daeron said, laying aside the harp. “The last ice age ended rather suddenly, geologically speaking, when the southern ice cap slipped off Antarctica into the oceans, causing massive tidal waves.”

“The first chapters of Genesis are drawn from earlier myths of the Sumerians,” Vorondur added, “except that instead of having a multitude of gods doing this, that and the other, there is only the One. Remember, Abraham came originally from Ur, a major city of the Sumerians, who were the first to rediscover such arts of civilization as city building, writing and animal husbandry, all of which had been lost when the Mortal civilizations of the Fourth Age were destroyed.”

“For some time, there was no proof outside of what was written in the Bible that any of the events or people mentioned even happened or existed,” Daeron said. “Recent archeological discoveries, however, have shown otherwise. Even David was believed not to have actually existed but to have been the figment of Jewish imagination, wishing to glorify their past. At any rate, take all that you read with a grain of salt. Things did not happen quite the way they are described in the Bible, though they did happen.”

“Were you there, any of you, in these lands when these things occurred?” Finrod asked.

“Oddly enough, no,” Vorondur replied. “When we compared our histories with one another, we found that none of us were living in that part of the world. Oh, Holly, Sarah and I were living in Athens at about the time that the Second Temple in Jerusalem was being built after the Jews were allowed to return to their homeland but by the time Jesus of Nazareth was preaching in Galilee we were residing in Carthage.”

“Glorfindel, the Twins and I were in what is today Turkey in the city of Myra, actually,” Daeron offered. Finrod started at the name of the city. “We heard rumors and even met one or two people who spoke of the Christ and what had happened in Palestine, but we never visited it.”

“Were not Nimrodel and Mithrellas with you?” Finrod asked.

Daeron shook his head and his expression became somewhat grim. “No. We did not find them until a couple of centuries later in the city of Brindisi, in Italy, where they were being sold into slavery.”

Finrod felt the blood drain from his face and the shock he felt must have been visible for the next thing he knew Vorondur was leaning over him, a hand on his forehead, softly singing, while Daeron was handing him a glass of sherry.

“Take a deep breath,” Vorondur said and Finrod did so before accepting the glass from Daeron and downing the fiery liquid in a single gulp.

“Slavery?” he whispered, feeling suddenly hot and cold at the same time.

Daeron nodded. “Oh, they’d just been bought when we happened to wander past the slave market and Glorfindel recognized them.” Daeron gave him a brittle smile. “We were able to convince their masters that they should let us buy them back.”

“But how?”

“They were on a ship heading for Rome that was attacked by pirates, slavers, who killed anyone whom they thought would not bring a good price. It was just fortuitous that we decided to cut across the city by way of the slave market on our way to transact some business on the other side of the port. We were late for our appointment with a potential client, for we were in the business of buying and selling gemstones and other precious commodities, and we decided to save time by cutting through the slave market, otherwise we would never have been there that day to rescue them.” He chuckled. “That short cut made us even later and we lost the client but we never regretted it.”

“I doubt it was fortuitous,” Vorondur commented. “As Glorfindel keeps reminding us, there is no such thing as coincidence. I have no doubt that you were made late on purpose and the idea of cutting through the slave market was not your first choice.”

“No. We actually considered hiring litters, but Elrohir said he did not wish to be borne on the shoulders of slaves and preferred to walk, so that is what we did.”

“And the rest, as they say, is history,” Vorondur said, as he gave Finrod a clinical look which became more sympathetic. “How are you feeling now?”

“I am fine,” Finrod said. “I’ve been reading about a culture that practiced slavery but I just never made the connection with the fact that some of you lived in that culture.”

Both Daeron and Vorondur shrugged and Vorondur returned to the desk, while Daeron picked up his harp and began strumming it again. Finrod felt himself relax and uttered a deep sigh as he settled further into the chair, gazing into the fire.

“They never spoke of it,” he finally said.

“Who?” Daeron asked.

“Bëor and the other Edain. They never spoke of what happened to them, to their people before they fled westward. ‘A darkness lies behind us,’ Bëor told me, but that was all he knew, for a silence had fallen upon their memory. Yet, here in this book is told a story that is similar to what Andreth said to me, that Men were made to be immortal but their natures were changed somehow and they became mortal. Andreth thought Melkor had done it and I remember telling her that if that were the case, then Melkor was more powerful than we Eldar had been led to believe, that he could so alter Eru’s designs. This Bible says that Eru made the change and that seems to fly in the face of all that we were taught of his beneficence. Men had to be mortal from the very beginning or else they would have simply been Elves. So why do they think they were originally immortal?”

“Perhaps it is a holdover memory of when some Men knew of us and envied our immortality and wished the same for themselves,” Daeron suggested, though there was a note of doubt in his voice.

“There is more than one type of death, though,” Vorondur said. “Physical death, entropy, as the scientists call it these days, seems to be a natural component of this universe. Everything eventually comes to an end. Even we will supposedly when all the ages of Arda are spent. But one can still be alive physically and be dead spiritually. We’ve all met such people, I imagine.” Both Finrod and Daeron nodded.

“So, you think that what happened was a spiritual dying among the Mortals that led to a separation between them and Eru,” Finrod ventured.

“Something like that, and according to Christianity, Eru took the initiative to heal the breach by sending his Son to Earth to begin building his Kingdom within world history and bring Men back into the fold, so to speak. It hasn’t quite happened the way it was originally envisioned by the early Christians, but I have no doubt that Eru draws straight with crooked lines and all things, good and bad, will eventually redound to his glory.”

“And in the end, this Jesus died and I gather he did so most horribly,” Finrod said.

“Crucifixion was a terrible method of execution,” Vorondur said softly and his eyes darkened with memory of an earlier, more brutal time.

“Yet, the Gospels say that he did not actually die,” Finrod insisted.

“No, the Gospels say that he did die but that Death was reversed,” Daeron corrected. “The Christians believe that in allowing himself to be arrested and suffer death, though he was innocent of any crime, Jesus opened the way for all Men to reconcile themselves with Eru. He was totally obedient to Eru’s will in all things. He was the new Adam, as I believe Paul called him.”

“Ah yes, Adam,” Finrod said with a nod. “I found it interesting that the name sounds very similar to ‘Adan’.

Both Vorondur and Daeron shrugged, as if neither had ever considered the similarity between the two words. Daeron struck a particular chord on the harp and began to sing:

“Adam lay ybounden. bounden in a bond, four thousand winter, thoght he not too long….”

“What is it that you sing?” Finrod asked.

“A fifteenth century Christmas carol. It tells about how Adam, bound in hell, waited four thousand years for redemption, which came when Jesus of Nazareth was born.” He continued singing the rest of the carol, then sang it again in Sindarin for Finrod’s benefit.

“An apple?” Finrod asked when Daeron finished. Vorondur chuckled and Daeron shrugged.

“Folklore,” he said. “The Bible only says that they ate fruit forbidden to them by Eru. It was only much, much later that someone decided it had to be an apple. Why, I have no idea, but the idea stuck and so the fruit is an apple. Highly unlikely, as apples do not grow in that region of the world.”

The clock on the mantle struck four and Finrod stirred. “I think I will retire now and finish reading this book later. I find I cannot remain awake for days on end as I used. It is most annoying.”

“You are still recovering from your wound,” Vorondur reminded him. “It will take time for you to completely heal. Rest is the best medicine at this point. Do you wish to be wakened at any particular time?”

Finrod shook his head as he rose. “No. I think I should sleep for as long as I need to.”

“Very wise of you,” Vorondur said with a grin.

Finrod grinned back. “Just call me Nóm,” he said as he headed for the door, while Vorondur and Daeron both laughed, wishing him pleasant dreams.

****

Nóm: ‘Wisdom’, the name given to Finrod by the Edain in their own tongue.

Notes:

1. The biblical passages are taken from the New Jerusalem Bible. Finrod reads from Philippians, chapter 2.

2. The carol Daeron mentions, in the original language with translation of certain words and phrases. A version of this is sung by Medieval Babes and can be heard on YouTube.

Adam lay ybounden,
Bounden in a bond; [bond: prison]
Four thousand winter
Thoght he not too long;
And all was for an appil,
An appil that he tok,
And clerkes finden, [clerkes: priests]
Wreten in here book [here: their]
Ne hadde the appil taken ben, [If the apple had not been taken]
The appil taken ben,
Ne hadde never our lady
A ben hevene quene. [never would our lady have been queen of heaven]
Blissed be the time
That appil take was.
Therefore we moun singen [moun: may, are allowed to]
'Deo gracias.'





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List