35: An Interlude with Glorfindel

Glorfindel was floating again. Darkness surrounded him like a warm blanket and he felt content, willing to float, not really caring about anything at the moment. Distantly, he seemed to sense others, for he could hear the murmur of voices, but as he could not make out what was being said, he soon ignored them. They were there in the background, like white noise, and in their own way, soothing.

How long he remained in this quiescent state, he neither knew nor cared, but a time came (though ‘time’ as a concept had no meaning for him in this floating darkness) when he began to feel troubled. At first, it was just a niggling doubt, barely noticeable as he lay there floating, but then faces arose in his memory, faces he remembered seeing before, though he could put no names to them. Two were like peas in a pod and the elleth was a dark beauty. He did not know who they were, but he sensed that they were somehow important. There was something he had to do that involved them, but just what that was, he did not know.

And now his earlier contentment fled and he struggled to remember who these three were and where he had seen them. A flash of memory crossed before him, gone before it actually registered: a lighted hallway and the two ellyn and the elleth were standing about talking and then walking to the elevators. It took Glorfindel precious seconds to recognize that they were in a hospital, and then the memory faded.

Sighing in frustration, wishing he was somewhere other than in this floating darkness, which now felt more like a prison than a haven, he tried to recapture the memory, to trace it back in the hope that he would know what these three were about and why he felt it was so important that he do something. What that something was he did not know and that fueled his frustration even more.

He made an attempt to find a way out of wherever he was, but the darkness held him, rocking him like a babe in its mother’s arms, and Glorfindel felt himself slipping away. He tried to fight it, but to no avail and his last thought as unconsciousness took him was that, if it was the last thing he did, he would find a way out of this dark, floating prison.

****

“Stubborn, isn’t he?” Olórin said, giving Lord Námo a wry look. The two were in fana with Námo in his Nate disguise while Olórin appeared as an old Man wearing a doctor’s lab coat. They were in Glorfindel’s room in ICU, keeping watch over the ellon.

The door opened and one of the nurses came inside, ignoring them, for they willed her not to notice their presence. She approached the bed and checked the IVs, glancing at the monitors and straightening the bedcovers. She stood there for a long moment staring down at the sleeping figure and then closed her eyes, her lips moving silently. Olórin looked at Námo, his eyes widening, but the Lord of Mandos made no move, his attention fully on the nurse, who opened her eyes after a moment, took one last glance at the monitors, and left.

When the door closed behind her, Olórin ventured to speak. “She was praying for him,” and it was as much a statement as it was a question.

Námo gave the Maia a thin smile. “I get it all the time, people praying when they feel Death is near, hoping to avoid it for themselves or others or, in rare cases, welcoming it. Sometimes I even listen.”

Olórin kept silent, not sure how to interpret the Vala’s statement. Námo strode to the bed, brushing a hand through Glorfindel’s hair. The ellon sighed and moved slightly but did not waken.

“He is fighting the healing sleep,” Námo said, “much like he did in Mandos.”

“He really should remain asleep for at least another day or, even better, two,” Olórin commented.

Námo nodded, still caressing Glorfindel’s hair. “Yes, but I doubt he will be that accommodating to his healers.” He gave the Maia a sidelong glance and Olórin responded with a snort of humor.

“As I said, my lord, stubborn.”

“That he is,” Námo said in agreement as he turned to face the Maia. “If he is able to break through the healing sleep, let him. I am curious to see what he does and how much he remembers of his out-of-body experience.”

“What about the Twins and young Serindë? They really should be here, not in Fairbanks.”

“At the moment, they are where they need to be,” Námo replied. “Manveru and Erunáro are keeping an eye on them.”

“So Fionwë told me,” Olórin said with a nod. “Twin troublemakers to look after twin troublemakers. Now there’s a recipe for mayhem if there ever was one.”

“Manwë gave those two strict orders and threatened them with dire punishment if they disobeyed, and then Eönwë gave them his orders,” Námo said with a knowing grin.

Olórin chuckled. “And they fear Eönwë more than Lord Manwë.”

“Don’t we all?” Námo quipped. Before Olórin could respond to that, the Vala walked away, fading into the fabric of the universe, leaving the Maia alone with the still sleeping Glorfindel.

****

Glorfindel was dreaming.

He was in a lighted hallway, standing before the twins and the elleth. They were speaking to one another, ignoring him. Glorfindel so hated to be ignored. He tried to get their attention, jumping up and down and waving his hands, but to no avail. The three continued conversing without taking any notice of him. It was so frustrating.

I’m invisible, he thought. I need to find a way for them to see and hear me.

He looked around, but found nothing helpful, except…

It was almost transparent and he did not notice it at first against the glare of the hall lights but there was a thin strand of light emanating from him, from just below his navel. Curious, he followed the strand, for it extended away from him into one of the rooms lining the hallway. He passed through the closed door, unaware that he had done so rather than opening it in the normal way, too intent on the strand of light to notice. He found himself in a dark room with a single bed surrounded by medical equipment softly glowing and quietly beeping. The strand of light led directly to the bed and to the figure lying in it.

Glorfindel hesitated at the door, now unsure that he really wanted to know who was on the other end of the strand, but curiosity or something else drew him further into the room and then he was staring down at the person in the bed who was either sleeping or unconscious.

He did not recognize him.

He looked for the strand of light. It was there, shining more brilliantly in the darkness. It was shorter now and it was definitely connected to the stranger in the bed. Only…

The longer Glorfindel stared at the supine and sleeping figure the more he felt convinced that this person should be known to him, that there was a connection between them and if he could only figure out what that connection was…

“That’s me,” he said suddenly, feeling a sense of horror and panic rising within him at the revelation. “That’s me. Why is that me?”

“You were hurt.”

Glorfindel swiveled around, going into a defensive crouch without thinking about it, coming face-to-face with a Being of Light.

“Fear not!” the Being said, and Glorfindel felt waves of peace falling about him and he straightened.

“Is this a dream?” he asked, not really sure if he wanted to hear the answer, and fearing that it would be in the negative.

“In a sense,” the Being answered, “but it is also reality, or rather, it is a different reality, one that is outside of reality as you know it, lying beside it or above it or within it. It’s rather hard to explain as you do not have the necessary vocabulary with which to speak about transdimensional directions.” This last was spoken in a wry tone tinged with amusement.

“That’s me,” Glorfindel said, ignoring the Being’s words and pointing to the supine figure. He refused to look at it, keeping his eyes on the Being, whose shape appeared amorphous with the light shifting with incandescence from yellow-white to yellow-orange, reminding him of the warm, life-giving light of the sun, and that is what Glorfindel felt, that he was speaking to a miniature sun.

“Yes, that is you,” the Being said gently.

“How can I be standing here talking with you and at the same time be lying in this bed hooked up to all these monitors, looking like something the orc dragged in?”

The Being laughed and Glorfindel felt a tremor of joy or perhaps fear sweep through him at the sound and he refused to analyze either emotion or their import.

“Do you forget that as a mirroanwë, you are both hröa and fëa and not fëa alone?” the Being asked. “You cannot fully exist unless the two are joined. That is what that strand of light means. It is the connection between the two. If that strand is severed then you will die as you did before and you will be summoned to Mandos. Is that your wish, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, to return to the realm of Lord Námo, there to abide, perhaps for all the remaining ages of Arda, unknowing and uncaring about the outside world and remembering not your friends and loved ones who will struggle on without you? Is that what you wish?”

Glorfindel shook his head, feeling appalled at the fate that awaited him should the strand be broken.

“I did not think so,” the Being said in satisfaction and if Light could nod it somehow did, or that was Glorfindel’s impression.

“So what now?” Glorfindel asked, feeling confused and uncertain of his next move. “And what about those three people, the twins and the girl? Do I know them? Why do they seem so important to me?”

“You will only know the answers to your questions when you return to your hröa, Glorfindel. You need to rejoin your hröa and awaken before you can remember.”

“But I don’t know how!” he nearly shouted in frustration.

“Yes, you do,” the Being insisted. “Slow your thoughts. Release your fears. There is nothing to fear here. You must want to be joined to your hröa. Look at it. Do not reject it. It is you.”

“But I don’t look like that… do I?”

The Being chuckled. “Yes, I’m afraid you do.”

“I’m not very handsome, am I? I thought I was more handsome than that.”

The Being somehow moved to encompass him, and Glorfindel felt as if he was being wrapped in a blanket, if blankets were made of pure, unadulterated light, and there was such a feeling of peace and love that surrounded him that he felt he could remain there forever and be absolutely content.

“You are beautiful beyond words, my child,” the Being said, “for you come from the very Mind of Eru and nothing but Beauty resides there.”

Glorfindel blinked and actually yawned, swaying a little. “What’s happening? Why do I feel so strange?”

“You’ve been outside your hröa longer than you should be,” the Being answered. “Do you wish to return to it, to take up Life again, as is both your right and your duty to do until Eru Himself calls you to Himself?”

Glorfindel nodded, now feeling too sleepy to give a verbal reply, yawning and blinking, struggling to stay awake. The Being seemed to wrap itself around Glorfindel even more and now the light made it difficult for him to see his body.

“Ta á laves na carë ve merilyë,” the Being intoned.

Glorfindel was not sure what happened next. There was a sense of vertigo and a rushing toward something, or perhaps it was away; Glorfindel was never sure which. Accompanying the sensation was a momentary feeling of absolute terror that was cut off almost before his mind registered it and then there was nothing.

****

Dr. Geoffrey Harris decided to stop at ICU and check on Loren before calling it a day. Kyle Stoner, he knew, was in the middle of surgery, attempting to save the life of a teenage boy who had been involved in a vehicular accident. His parents, unfortunately, had not survived and Harris felt a momentary pang of regret about that, silently praying for their souls and for the young man fighting for his life as he entered the elevator and pressed the button. It reached the ICU floor and Harris stepped out, making his way to the nurses’ station. The nurses greeted him politely and answered his questions. There were two other patients besides Loren in ICU and Harris, conscientious to a fault, enquired as to their status, even though he was not their doctor.

The nurses were in the middle of providing him with stats on the patients, pulling up files from the computer, when monitor alarms went off. Harris ran down the hall, following one of the nurses while the other came behind him and he was not too surprised when they came to the door guarded by a police officer who looked uncertain at their approach. Harris had the impression the young man (they were all young to him) probably had thought that a night shift would be quieter than a day shift and was momentarily nonplused by all the commotion. Luckily, he had enough brains to stand aside as the medical personnel thundered into the room.

Harris bit back an oath as he saw a thoroughly wide awake Loren in the process of ripping out the IV in his right arm with blood spurting.

“No!” Harris shouted as he ran to the bed with the nurse coming around the other side. She was not very tall, perhaps five feet two in her shoes, and she didn’t look like she would be much use in holding the Elf down, but to Harris’ amazement she grabbed Loren by the throat and squeezed. Loren made a desperate gurgling sound.

“Be still,” she ordered, “or I’ll squeeze even harder.”

The Elf-lord froze, his eyes widening and there was actual fear in them. Harris and the other nurse were working on stopping the bleeding. They would need to reestablish the IV but first things first. Harris glared at the nurse who still had her hand around Loren’s throat. “Do you always threaten your patients like this, Ms. Callahan?”

The nurse released her hold on Loren and shook her head. “Sorry, Doctor. I was an army nurse before I went civilian. Sometimes the soldiers came in fighting. I learned a few tricks to keep them still long enough for someone to trank them.”

“I see,” Harris said, then he turned to Loren. “You shouldn’t be awake.”

“I need to leave. I need to get to Fairbanks before it’s too late,” Loren gasped, swallowing painfully. Nurse Callahan went to the sink, returning a moment later with a plastic cup full of water.

“Here, drink this,” she said and Loren gulped the liquid down.

“Loren, you’re in no position to go anywhere,” Harris said in a reasonable voice. “You’re still recovering from major surgery.”

“I don’t care. I have to get to Fairbanks. Now where are my clothes?” he nearly shouted as he attempted to climb out of the bed.

Harris pushed him back down, and it was a testament to the Elf’s physical condition that he did not fight it, but lay there breathing heavily, holding his abdomen which was still bandaged from the surgery, obviously in pain. Harris gave him a sympathetic look as he pulled out his cell and speed-dialed a number.

“Ah, Daeron, good. This is Geoff Harris. I need to speak with Finrod… Yes, Finrod. Loren’s awake and insisting he needs to go to Fairbanks… I have no idea. I was assured he wouldn’t awaken until someone brought him out… Here, hang on a moment.” He handed the phone to Loren. “Finrod wants to talk with you.”

Loren took the phone and started gabbling into it in rapid-fire Sindarin. Harris thought he recognized one or two words, but his command of Sindarin was still at the ‘Hello. My name is’ and ‘Where’s the toilet?’ stage of language acquisition and he doubted he would ever have the opportunity to visit Valinor on a tourist visa so he could practice what little of the language he knew. He hid a smile at that thought while Loren continued to speak to Finrod, pausing for breath to listen to what the prince had to say. Finally, he handed the phone back to Harris. “He wants to speak to you,” he said in English.

“Yes, Finrod… No, I don’t think so either… Kyle’s in surgery and I should have been home an hour ago myself, but I can wait until you get here… Yes… See you shortly.” He shut down the phone, shoving it into a pocket as he addressed Loren. “Finrod’s on his way and he’s bringing clothes. In the meantime, if you stay quiet, we won’t re-establish the IV, though we will keep you hooked up to the monitors. We’ll need to change the sheets, so let’s get you out of bed and into this chair. Get him a clean gown as well.” He grabbed the bed controls and soon Loren was in a sitting position.

The nurses unhooked him from the monitors and then spent a few minutes getting him out of the bed, advising him on the proper way to get out without pushing on his arms which would put pressure on his stitches. With clinical acuity they had the blood-stained gown off and a fresh one on him before he even had time to protest and then they were guiding him to a chair, one of them tucking a warmed blanket around him and the other placing a pillow behind his back. Then they hooked him back up to the monitors before competently stripping the bed and remaking it while Harris looked on.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “We can get you something from the kitchen.”

“I would like that, thank you,” Loren said politely. “But if you serve me broth I will throw it at you.”

Harris grinned and the two nurses rolled their eyes as they tucked in the sheets and the blankets.

“I think we can dispense with broth, but you shouldn’t eat too heavily. You were at death’s door not two days ago and in fact you went into cardiac arrest more than once.”

“Yes, I remember floating above everyone and watching Kyle working on me, though I don’t think I realized it was me.” Loren gave them a puzzled look as if he wasn’t sure about his own words.

“Ah… well, that sometimes happens, so I’ve been told. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

Loren gave him a considering look and then grinned in that way that Harris had learned the hard way usually meant trouble. “Been there, done that. Now where’s that food you promised?”

“I’ll see what we can rustle up for you,” Harris said and walked out of the room, leaving the two nurses to fuss over the Elf-lord.

****

Glorfindel was finishing up a tray of poached eggs on wheat toast and a bowl of jello, sipping on some tea, when Finrod arrived along with Laurendil, Daeron and Vorondur. They all came into the room and stopped, staring at Loren finishing off his breakfast while Harris looked on, having agreed to keep the Elf company while he ate.

“About time you got here,” Glorfindel said as he set the cup of tea down. “Are those my clothes? Good. As soon as I’m dressed we’ll leave for Fairbanks.”

“And why are we going to Fairbanks?” Finrod asked.

“Because that’s where Dan, Roy and Sarah are,” Glorfindel replied. “I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen. Of course, they also couldn’t see me, but that’s a minor point.”

“When did you speak with them?” Vorondur asked. “How do you know they went to Fairbanks?”

“I can’t tell you that, because I really don’t know,” Glorfindel admitted. “I just know that I was standing in the hallway listening to them talk about leaving and knowing that it was a mistake for them to do so, but they couldn’t see or hear me and then I was back here waking up.”

The four Elves exchanged looks and there was some sort of silent communication going on. Glorfindel ignored them as he cleaned his plate of egg with the last of the toast. Finally, Vorondur stepped forward and crouched down in front of Glorfindel who gave him a quizzical look.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” Vorondur asked quietly.

“I remember leaving Edhellond. I remember going into the Rusty Nail, not caring if I lived or died. I remember leaving, then nothing, just listening in on the Twins discussing their plans to go to Fairbanks and then waking up. Goeffrey says I was in a fight and lost.”

“You nearly died, Loren,” Vorondur said gently. “You were attacked and when they finished with you, they threw you into a dumpster and left you for dead. It is only by Eru’s own grace that you were found in time.”

“You shouldn’t even be awake yet, Glorfindel,” Laurendil said in some exasperation. “We had planned to bring you out of it in a couple of days. How could you even fight it?”

“He’s a Reborn,” Finrod said with a snort, “and he has a history of fighting healing sleep. Just ask Lord Námo.” He turned to Harris. “Can he leave?”

“Not on my advice and actually Kyle will need to sign off on him, being the surgeon-in-charge.”

“Well, we cannot possibly leave for Fairbanks this very minute,” Finrod said. “Plans need to be made.”

“Do you know where Dan and Roy are in Fairbanks, Loren?” Daeron asked.

“No. They didn’t mention a place, but I think I can find them.”

“We could just call every hotel in Fairbanks and ask,” Vorondur suggested. “In fact I had planned to do just that if I did not hear from Sarah by noon. They’ve had plenty of time to find a hotel and get settled. They should have contacted someone before this anyway.”

“Well, all this is beside the point,” Finrod said, looking gravely at Glorfindel. “Until and unless Kyle releases you, Glorfindel, you are not to attempt to leave this hospital.”

“But I need to get to Fairbanks!” Glorfindel protested.

“Why you specifically?” Vorondur asked as he stood up. “Any of us could go to Fairbanks to look for them.”

“I don’t know. I just know I have to go there. They need to return. They shouldn’t have left, but I don’t think they will listen to anyone else, not even you, Ron. I need to go and bring them back.”

There was a moment of silence as they thought over Glorfindel’s words. Harris decided to speak. “Kyle may be out of surgery by now. I can find out. In the meantime, I think you need to rest, Loren. Fairbanks will keep. Right now, you need sleep. I can tell you’re struggling to stay awake.” And indeed, the ellon had been yawning throughout the conversation.

“Not healing sleep,” Glorfindel insisted firmly.

“Agreed,” Harris said before Laurendil or anyone else could object. “We’ll let you sleep on your own. If you behave yourself, I will see to it that Kyle signs the release form. You will be out of here by noon. I personally do not like the idea of you making such an arduous trip, not so soon. I know Elves heal fast, but still….”

“We can make him comfortable,” Daeron assured the Mortal doctor, “and one of the healers will be with him at all times, just in case.”

“Very well,” Harris said. “I’ll send the nurses in to help you into bed.”

“Can’t you get rid of this catheter first?” Glorfindel demanded. “It’s too embarrassing.”

Harris shook his head. “We’ll leave it in for now.” And with that, he left.

Glorfindel sighed and muttered something in Sindarin that was too low even for Elven ears to hear. Finrod gave him a wicked grin. “I will ask them to give you a bath as well.”

Vorondur, Daeron and Laurendil chuckled at the look of horror that crossed Glorfindel’s face.

“Don’t worry, Loren. Perhaps I can convince Manwen to administer the bath,” Laurendil suggested, giving him a leer.

Glorfindel glared at him. “Over my dead body,” he said.

The others just chuckled as Nurse Callahan came in. “We will leave you to your rest, hanno,” Finrod said in Quenya. “I will return later.”

He exited the room with the others while Nurse Callahan began unhooking Glorfindel from the monitors. “Remember what I told you about not pushing up with your arms?” she said and Glorfindel nodded, letting her do most of the work getting him back into bed and settled. Five minutes after she left him, he was fast asleep.

And unseen and unfelt by any of them, Olórin stood in the corner keeping watch.

****

Words are Quenya:

Mirroanwë: Incarnate.

Hröa: Body.

Fëa: Spirit, soul.

Ta á laves na carë ve merilyë: ‘Then let it be done as thou desirest.’