32: Vorondur’s Very Bad Day

Vorondur blinked, finding himself gazing up at an unfamiliar ceiling. For a long moment, he wondered where he was and how he had gotten there. He could tell from feel that he was lying on a couch and for a second he thought perhaps he had had a row with Holly but this was not his couch and the lighting was all wrong.

“Awake, are we?”

He turned his head slowly at the sound of the voice to see Kyle Stoner sitting calmly in a rocking chair, a book in his hand and now Vorondur realized he was still at the bookstore, for he could see something of the shop from this angle.

“Do you always carry a hypodermic in your pocket?” Vorondur asked, struggling to sit up, finding that his coat had been draped over him as a blanket. “And what the hell did you hit me with?” He had to blink a few times to drive away the dark spots that threatened to engulf him once again.

“Easy now,” Kyle said solicitously. “There’s some water on the table next to you.”

Vorondur looked to his right and saw the table and the glass of water and reached over, picking up the glass and drinking avidly, and that helped to bring the world back into focus. He put the empty glass back down and stared at the Mortal. “You going to explain yourself?”

Kyle grinned. “Got into the habit of carrying a hypo and a couple of vials back when I was an intern in L.A. We often had gang members and druggies coming through. Some of them would become violent. There was this one time… well, let’s just say that had I had a hypo in my hand at the time, things would have gone differently. After that….” He gave an elegant shrug.

“I see, and the drug?”

Kyle rattled off the name of a fast-acting drug and Vorondur nodded. “Ernest?”

“He’s fine,” Kyle assured him. “Mir took him home. He said he could repair whatever damage you inflicted on him but I doubt the guy’s going to be singing arias anytime soon. He could still speak, if in a hoarse whisper, so you didn’t crush his trachea completely.”

Vorondur grimaced at that, running a hand through his hair.

“How is he, Kyle?”

Vorondur looked up to see Finrod standing there.

“He’ll be fine,” Kyle said, standing and putting the book on the table next to the empty glass. “And now that the crisis is over, I think I’ll leave. I should’ve been in bed four hours ago.”

“Four hours?” Vorondur took a quick glance at the clock over the counter and saw it was already after noon. He’d been out for about three hours.

He glanced up at the Mortal. “I shouldn’t have been out that long,” he protested.

Kyle just shook his head. “I gave you double the dose I normally would give anyone because I have no idea what effect any of our drugs have on you people. I really need to do a complete work up on you people and get a baseline for your vitals so we know how to treat you if we need to.”

“You have four full-blooded elven healers at your beck and call, Kyle,” Vorondur pointed out. “Why don’t you use them as guinea pigs?”

“I might just do that,” Kyle said.

“So I’ve been lying here unconscious for the last three hours while customers have been coming in? How did you explain that?” He addressed this to Finrod.

“I closed the store. I have a sign that says the store will open at one, which is when Nick is due to arrive. In fact, I’ve just reopened the shop.”

“And if I were still unconscious?” Vorondur asked, feeling amused.

“Then we would have told anyone who came in that you had had a rough night and didn’t want to go home to your wife just yet,” Kyle replied for Finrod as he shrugged on his coat which had been draped on another chair. “What conclusions they drew from that would be their affair. Well, I’m off. There’s a bed with my name on it and it’s feeling lonely without me.”

In spite of himself, Vorondur grinned and Finrod actually held out his hand for Kyle to shake, which surprised Vorondur and Kyle both.

“Thank you, Doctor,” the Elf-prince said quietly, “for everything.”

“No problem,” Kyle said shaking Finrod’s hand. He gave the two Elves a shake of his head. “You behave yourself, Ron,” he ordered as he headed for the door, then stopped with his hand on the knob and turned around. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, what did Ernest mean when he said Loren was slipping his leash?”

Vorondur watched Finrod go absolutely still. “When did he say this?” he whispered and Vorondur winced at the tone, glad he wasn’t the object of Finrod’s regard.

Kyle was far enough away, though, that he probably did not feel the effects of Finrod’s rising ire. “When Loren went into cardiac arrest.”

For a moment, Finrod did not answer and when he spoke it was with a question of his own. “This cardiac arrest… you mean a heart attack?”

Kyle nodded. “But we got him back, so there’re no worries there. We’ll keep a close eye on him, I promise.”

Finrod nodded. “It is too complicated to go into it now, but in ages past my brother’s fëa, his spirit, I think you would say, sometimes fled his hröa, his body, whenever under extreme stress.”

“Oh, you mean he was having a near-death experience? Going toward the white light and all that? And Ernest was able to sense him doing so? Interesting.” He looked thoughtful for a moment and then he shrugged, as if to dismiss whatever he had been thinking, and opened the door. “Okay, I’m out of here,” he said briskly, giving them a wave, and then Vorondur and Finrod were alone.

Finrod looked down at Vorondur who looked up at him and the prince’s expression was completely unreadable to him. “Going toward the white light?”

Vorondur shrugged. “It’s rather complicated,” he said, using Finrod’s own words. He was not about to get into a discussion about NDEs.

Finrod raised an eyebrow and then he sighed and shook his head. “I really am tired of coming up with suitable punishments for people.”    

Vorondur stood up. “Punishment?”

“You do not think we can just ignore what happened, do you?”

“No, nor do I expect anyone to, but unless you want to have Eärnur lodge a complaint of assault against me with the police, there will be no punishment. You no longer have that authority over me. I will apologize to Eärnur and attempt to make it up to him in some manner but that will be between the two of us and you have nothing to do with it.”

Finrod frowned. “You were one of my subjects in Nargothrond.”

“And the operative word there is ‘were’, past tense,” Vorondur pointed out. “I was one of your subjects, but not one of your blood-sworn and I am not now. You are not king here, Finrod.”

“I know that!”

“Do you? Because I have to wonder with you going on about meting out punishment.”

“Do you believe you don’t deserve punishment?”

“I didn’t say that. Whatever punishment I deserve for what I did, it will not come from you. This is not Aman nor is it Nargothrond and I am not a subject of the Noldorin Crown.”

“You are a Noldo,” Finrod pointed out. “Of course you are a subject of the Crown even if you reside here. You are still your atar’s heir.”

“No, Finrod, that’s the point. I’m not. I’m a legal citizen of the United States of America. Have been for these past seventy years after Holly, Sarah and I fled from the Nazis when they took Austria. When I became a US citizen I gave up my titles and my rights as a noble. I am not Atar’s heir anymore, and frankly, I never considered myself to be his heir, not after he and Amillë and my brother Sailed. I never had any intention of joining them in Aman. This is my home, now and always.”

Finrod sighed, looking troubled, but whatever he might have said remained unspoken, for the shop door opened and the two Elves turned to see Nick coming in, shaking the snow off him and stomping his feet.

“Man it’s cold out today. Hey, Ron, how’re you doing? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m doing fine, Nick,” Vorondur said, giving Finrod a quick glance. The Elf-prince gave him a slight shrug and turned away.

“Would you like some coffee, Nicholas?” Finrod asked as he came down the steps. “I have a fresh pot on.”

“Oh, God! Thanks,” the Mortal said with much feeling as he began to divest himself of his outer wear.

“I should be going,” Vorondur said, shrugging on his coat as he came to the front of the store. “I’ll stop at Edhellond to see how things are there and then head for the hospital to check on Loren’s condition,” he said, addressing this to Finrod who was coming out of the back room with a mug in his hand.

“Yes, do that,” Finrod said and Vorondur could tell the prince was not happy with him at the moment, but that was something that would have to be addressed later away from Mortal eyes.

“Something happen to Loren?” Nick asked as he accepted the mug from Finrod.

“Quinn will fill you in,” Vorondur said and without another word he opened the door and stepped outside where it was snowing again. It was indeed cold, well below zero on the Fahrenheit scale, he suspected. Winter was by no means over with. He paused for a moment and took in a deep breath. The cold crispness of the air drove away any lingering cobwebs from his mind. His stomach grumbled and he realized he hadn’t bothered with breakfast in his rush to speak with Finrod and now it was nearly one in the afternoon. He thought about going over to the café for a quick bite, but elected instead to enter the bakery and buy something there.

Thus, a few minutes later he came out happily munching on a cinnamon roll as he strolled across the town square to his car. It was covered with snow, of course, more so than most of the other cars in the lot, for it had been sitting there for hours. It would take some time to brush it off and there might even be ice underneath. He fished out his keys and pressed the remote. The car started to turn on and then stopped. Frowning, he used his arm to brush the snow around the driver’s side door, unlocking it and getting in, inserting the key into the ignition and turning it. The car started to come to life and then died.

“Damn!”

He got out and fished for his phone with the intention of calling Triple-A, but his phone was dead too and he belatedly remembered that he had forgotten to charge it when he got home last night. Muttering curses, he opened the back door and retrieved the snowbrush and began vigorously brushing the snow off the front of the car, silently cursing the snow that was still falling. As soon as he cleared the hood he stopped long enough to open it. If people saw that, hopefully someone might offer to give him a jump. He had the cables in the trunk. In the meantime, he continued brushing snow off the rest of the car, wondering if the people in the Safeway might let him use their phone to call Triple-A if no one offered a jump.

“Need a jump?”

He looked up to see a couple of Mortals in a pickup truck, a middle-aged Man and his teenaged son. It was the younger Man who had spoken.

“Yes,” Vorondur said. “I have cables.”

He saw the older Man nod and then maneuver into the empty space next to his car. The young Man jumped out as Vorondur went to open the trunk, only to discover that the cables were not there.

“Blast! My wife must have taken them out for some reason,” he exclaimed.

“Hey, no problem, Mister,” the boy said. “We’ve got cables.” He went to the truck and climbed into the back, pulling out cables and in a moment he was connecting them to the batteries. Vorondur climbed into his car and turned the key. There was a slight hesitation and he feared the battery was actually dead, but then the engine came to life and he breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed out of the car.

“Thanks,” he said to the boy as he was unclamping the leads on the cable.

“No problem,” the youngster said. “You have a good day.” He threw the cables into the back of the truck and hopped in, giving Vorondur a wave as his father drove off. Vorondur closed the hood, gave the car another quick brushing while the engine was warming and then climbed back in and drove away. He would have to remember to tell Holly not to take the cables out of the trunk.

He had no further problems as he headed for Edhellond, purposely taking a long way there to give the car time to warm up; he didn’t want the battery to die on him again. Thus, by the time he reached Edhellond, it was nearly two. He didn’t bother to knock or ring the bell, but went right in.

“Hello, anyone home?” he called out as he shook the snow off him.

A moment later, one of the Valinórean Elves came down the hall leading to the kitchen.

“Ah, Aidan, good afternoon,” Vorondur said, addressing Aldarion by his Mortal name, “I’ve come to speak with Ernest and Mir. I need to….”

“Finish what you started?” Aldarion asked coldly.

Vorondur went still, attempting to gauge the ellon’s mood. “No, Aidan. I’ve come to apologize and to assure myself that Ernest is well. I—”

“He won’t see you. Not at this time.”

Vorondur looked over to see Vardamir coming down the stairs, his expression grave.

“How is he?” Vorondur asked humbly. “Kyle said the damage was minimal.”

“And it is a good thing that he was able to subdue you or you would be guilty of kinslaying,” Vardamir said coldly, clutching the bannister to the point that his knuckles were white and Vorondur could tell the ellon was barely able to contain his anger.

“I am sorry, truly. I’m not sure what came over me, but between what happened with Loren and now my daughter is missing—”

“Missing?” Aldarion asked.

“She and Roy and I think Dan left. I have no idea where, but they left because of you, Mir, you and Ernest.”

“I am sure they are fine,” Vardamir said somewhat dismissively and Vorondur could feel himself growing angry again and clamped down hard on his emotions.

“I hope so,” he said through gritted teeth. “I would still like to see Ernest for myself.”

“Master Healer Eärnur is not seeing any visitors at the moment, especially not you,” Vardamir said. “I think you had best leave, Vorondur. Your presence here is not welcome. What punishment has Finrod meted out to you, beyond making you come here to tender your apologies, which we do not accept at this time?”

Now Vorondur allowed himself to show a little anger. “As I explained to Finrod, he has no authority over me and he is not meting out any punishment. If Ernest wishes to lodge assault charges against me with the police, that is his privilege, but beyond that, whatever punishment I deserve, whatever restitution I should make, is between me and Ernest and no one else.”

“Well, be that as it may, as Eärnur’s healer, I am not allowing visitors at the moment. I will have someone contact you when he is. Good day to you.” With that, Vardamir turned and went back upstairs leaving Vorondur with Aldarion.

“What do you mean, Finrod has no authority over you?” the ellon asked, looking perplexed. “He’s our leader, even more so now that Glorfindel is injured.”

Vorondur sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I am not in the mood to explain,” he said. “Tell Finrod when you see him that I will call later to arrange for a time when I can see Ernest.” Then he opened the door and left, feeling somehow defeated.

And that sense of defeat followed him to the hospital where he found that he was unable to enter Loren’s room.

“They’re bathing him,” the nurse on duty at the ICU desk told him.

“I can wait,” Vorondur said.

“Sorry, but Dr. Stoner left orders that none of you Elves were to be allowed in, not even those blessed healers. He left strict instructions about that.”

“Why? And I’m not one of the healers. I’m a certified doctor of medicine. I don’t think Kyle’s orders apply to me.”

“Sorry, Dr. Brightman, but Dr. Stoner put all the Elves on the persona non grata list until further notice,” the nurse said apologetically. “The police officer guarding Mr. DelaFiore’s room will not admit you. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you speak with Dr. Stoner.”

“Yes, I will,” Vorondur said. “Can you at least tell me what his condition is?”

She glanced around, as if to see if anyone was nearby, but at the moment the two were alone. “I shouldn’t be doing this, but…” She fiddled with her laptop, not looking at him. “I need to check on one of the patients, so if you happen to be just nosy enough to glance at the screen while I’m away, you might find something of interest.” She gave him an arch look as she came from behind the desk and sauntered off. Vorondur smiled after her and then, giving the area a quick glance himself he moved around the desk and quickly scanned the screen with the latest update on Loren’s condition. He did not linger, but satisfied that the ellon was still holding his own, headed away.

Back in his car, after having to brush off the snow that was still falling, he sat for a moment while the car warmed up, feeling frustrated and tired. He dreaded going home to face Holly, but knew that it had to be done. Better she hear from him than from someone else what happened. He sighed as he maneuvered the car out of the physicians’ parking lot and headed home.

The snow was coming down heavily and he had to drive slowly with visibility nearly zero. It wasn’t quite blizzard conditions but there was plenty of whiteout. He turned one corner and felt the car slide a bit at the intersection and geared down to second, slowing even more, but as he attempted to brake at the next intersection, he must have hit some ice, for the car would not stop and before he knew it he was sliding through the intersection and spinning.

Uttering a curse, he turned the wheel into the spin, removing his foot from the pedals, and the car slid off the road and into a ditch, facing in the direction from which he’d been coming. “Oh that’s just great!” he muttered as he climbed out of the car to see what the situation was. The car appeared undamaged but he was going to need a tow to get it back on the road. He looked around to see if there were any houses nearby. This time of day, the kids might be out of school but the parents were likely still at work.

“You alright, Mister?”

He turned to see an old Man with a dog, a golden retriever, who barked at him.

“Hush, Rufus,” the Man hissed. “Sit.” And the dog obeyed.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Vorondur said, then stared at the car, giving a sigh. He looked at the Man ruefully. “This isn’t Friday the Thirteenth by any chance, is it?”

The Mortal grinned. “That was last week, son,” he said.

“Ah, I guess the gods are behind schedule then.”

The Man laughed outright. “You’re gonna need a tow. You got Triple-A?”

“Yes, but my phone died,” Vorondur explained. “Forgot to charge it last night.”

“Yeah, I know. I do that all the time.” He pulled off a glove and fished in one of his pockets, pulling out a smartphone. “Here, use mine.”

“Thanks,” Vorondur said as he got out his wallet and found the Triple-A card, punching in the number. It took a few seconds for someone to answer.

“Yes, my car slid off the road and is in a ditch. I need someone to come and help me get it out… Ah… street?” He looked at the Man.

“East Salina,” The Man said helpfully. “Nearest cross street is Morgan.”

Vorondur relayed the information to the operator who assured him that a truck would be sent but warned that it might take a while. “All our trucks are out in this. Lots of people either off the road or with dead batteries.”

Vorondur resisted a sigh and closed the phone, handing it back to the Man with his thanks. “It’ll be a while before someone comes.”

“Yeah, I figured that might be the case. Damn fool weatherman. Said we would have clear skies today. Idiots don’t know what they’re talking about. I swear they must just throw darts at a chart or something.”

Vorondur couldn’t help grinning. “Thank you for your help. You should be going. I’m sure Rufus would like to be home.”

“Rufus? Crazy dog loves this kind of weather. He’s worse than the grandkids.” Rufus gave a bark as if agreeing with him. “You gonna be okay?”

Yes, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

The Man nodded and set off with the dog leading and disappeared into the swirling snow. Vorondur sighed and went to turn off the car. He had no idea how long it would take for a truck to come and he didn’t want to waste gas or wear out the battery. He opened the trunk and pulled out a couple of emergency flares and set them on either end of the car.

Several cars came along in the meantime. Everyone stopped to check on him. A couple even offered to see if they could push the car out of the ditch, but Vorondur assured them that a truck was coming and thanked them. About an hour or so after he had put in the call, he saw flashing amber lights in the distance and hoped it was the truck. It was and twenty minutes later he was back on the road. Luckily, he was not far from home and the rest of the drive back was without incident.

He flicked on the garage door opener and in minutes he was in the mudroom removing his coat, the smell of cooking greeting him as he entered the kitchen where he met his wife. Ercassë looked up from where she’d been checking something in the oven and her expression was one of relief and worry mixed. “Ron! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

“Phone died. Forgot to charge it, and then my car wouldn’t start and I had to get a jump and then I slid off the road and I had to wait over an hour for a truck to come get me out of the ditch.” He decided to leave out what had happened at the bookstore and the hospital for the moment.

“Oh, you poor baby,” she said, giving him a hug and he hugged her back, enjoying the feel of her arms around him, making everything all right. After a moment, though, she pulled away. “You missed your ten o’clock.”

“Damn! Was Mrs. Penner terribly upset?”

“Not that I could tell. I said you had an emergency at the hospital and it had been too late to call her to cancel. She seemed to understand. I took the liberty of rescheduling her for tomorrow at four.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“You look frozen. Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee.”

“And something to eat. All I’ve had today is a cinnamon roll.”

“It’s nearly dinner time. Here, I warmed up some flatbread and here’s some cheese. Nibble on these. Now just what is going on? I called over at Edhellond and got a very strange response from Conan.”

“Oh?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Ron, what is going on?” She plopped down a mug of coffee before him and gave him a glare.

“Yes, that’s what I would like to know,” Amroth said as he walked in. “I’ve been chatting online with Darren. He refuses to give me details but he said that Mir brought Ernest home and he was in pretty bad shape and when I asked what he meant by that, he said to ask you.”

Vorondur closed his eyes, wishing he’d never gotten out of bed that morning.

“Ron?”

He opened his eyes to see the worry in Ercassë’s eyes and the sympathy in Amroth’s. He reached into a pocket and drew out a rather crumpled piece of paper. “I found this note from Sarah when I got up this morning.” He handed it to Ercassë to read. He watched her eyes widen and then she handed the note to Amroth who gave it a glance, nodding, as if its contents were no surprise to him. Ignoring the former king of Laurinand, he told them what had happened. As he spoke, he could see Holly getting more and more upset.

“Why the nerve of him!” she exclaimed.

“Who?” Ron asked, looking perplexed.

“Finrod, of course,” she said with a huff of disgust and he noticed Amroth smiling. “Who does he think he is? If he’s going to punish anyone, it should be those two clowns who disregarded Roy and Dan’s diagnosis and almost got Loren killed. You should’ve finished Ernie off and then gone after Mir!”

Vorondur couldn’t help it. He started laughing and Amroth joined him.

“It’s not funny, Ron!” Ercassë protested.

Vorondur just laughed some more, reaching out for his wife and bringing her close to kiss her. “I know,” he said when he had calmed down. “I think the day’s events are catching up with me. I’m worried for Sarah, though. She hasn’t called, has she?”

“No, and that’s not like her,” Ercassë admitted. “I tried calling her as well, but there was no answer. Where do you think they went?”

“They’re not in Wiseman. I think they went to Fairbanks. Hopefully one of them will call to let us know that they are all right and to find out how Loren is doing.”

“I hope so, too,” she said, kissing her husband back. “I thought we brought her up to know better than to worry us this way.” She straightened and moved out of Vorondur’s embrace. “Well, dinner will be in about a half hour. Why don’t you go clean up, check your emails and I’ll call you. Amroth, is Della up to joining us or should I make a tray?”

“I’ll go check, but I think she would like to join us. She’s feeling quite bored.”

Vorondur excused himself, went to the bathroom and then made his way to his office where he turned on his laptop, eventually accessing his emails. The very first one was from Daeron. Curious, he opened it and read the brief note:

Cheer up. If you’re lucky, the world will come to an end soon and you won’t have to worry about anything. In the meantime, here’s something to amuse you.

Below this was a caption that read, Unfortunate Burnt-Out Neon Signs, with images taken from a variety of sources: a funeral home sign that read ‘Fun Home’, a Burlington Coat Factory with the ‘o’ missing from ‘Coat’, and several others that, when combining letters produced some very naughty signs. He chuckled as he scrolled down, his mood lightening a bit, but he laughed out loud when he came to the last sign, a self storage sign that, with a missing ‘s’, now read ‘Elf Storage’. He hit ‘Reply’ and was keying in a message of thanks to Daeron when Ercassë came to the door.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she said.

He nodded, finished up the email and sent it before getting up and following his wife to the front door where he found Finrod speaking with Amroth, looking a bit uncomfortable. He looked up as Vorondur approached.

“Finrod,” he said in greeting, giving the Elf-prince a wary look.

“I heard what happened at Edhellond,” Finrod said by way of greeting. “I came to apologize on behalf of the others. Vardamir had no right to deny you.”

“You came all the way out here on foot in the middle of a blizzard to apologize rather than just calling,” Vorondur said disbelievingly.

Finrod shrugged. “I found I needed the exercise and it kept me from wringing a few necks.”

There was a long pause as the other three contemplated the import of Finrod’s words.

“Well, in that case, you’ll stay for dinner,” Ercassë said brightly after a moment. “Let me take your cloak.”

Finrod gave Vorondur an enquiring look. “By all means, join us,” he said with a nod, “and if the weather is still bad later you should plan to stay the night as well. It’s too dangerous to be walking or driving in this kind of weather.”

“No worse than the Helcaraxë,” Finrod said with a faint smile as he doffed his cloak and handed it to Ercassë. “Thank you,” he said simply.

“Ron, why don’t you and Amroth take Finrod to the living room and give him some wine. I’ll call you when and if I need any help in the kitchen.” Holly walked away, leaving the three ellyn to make their way into the living room where Vorondur went to the wine cabinet and pulled out some glasses and checked the wine stock, choosing a nice burgundy since he knew the dinner was a hearty venison stew. He poured the wine into the glasses and handed them to Finrod and Amroth, lifting his own in a salute. They all drank and there was an awkward silence.

Vorondur gave Finrod a considering look. “I appreciate that you came all the way out here to apologize and I apologize, too, for everything. Today has not been a good day for me. I hope others will be as forgiving.”

“I know and I am sorry that it came to this. I hope you and I can remain friends. I fear with Glorfindel in hospital, I must rely more heavily on you and Amroth and Daeron to help me maneuver in this very confusing world.”

“You will always have our support, Finrod,” Amroth said. “That goes without saying. Now, why don’t we put all this aside for the moment and just enjoy Holly’s venison stew and one another’s company?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Finrod said with a smile.

Both Amroth and Vorondur gave him surprised looks and Finrod smirked. “You see, working at the bookstore has already helped me with my idioms.”

Amroth and Vorondur chuckled.

“Ron, come help me with this,” they heard Ercassë call out, “and Amroth, go tell Della dinner is on. Finrod, bring the wine.”

The three ellyn grinned at one another as they separated to do Holly’s bidding.

****

Note: My thanks to Ellie for sending me the Unfortunate Burnt-Out Neon Signs for my amusement. It came at just the right time for this chapter. The ‘Elf Storage’ sign actually exists.