57: A Meeting of Done Been Dead Dudes Anonymous

Once they reached Edhellond and had divested themselves of their coats, Brethorn took Alex in hand, leading him upstairs. “We will go to the sunroom,” he said, then stopped and looked down at Gilvegil and Valandur. “Gil, you want to find Bela and Ed? They must be around somewhere.”

“I’ll check the woods,” Gil said. “That’s where they usually hang out.”

“And if either Finrod or Glorfindel show up, send them up as well, will you?”

“Not a problem,” Gil said and he headed down the hall toward the kitchen.

“What about Vorondur?” Valandur asked. “Do you want him present?”

“That is up to Alex,” Brethorn said, turning to the Mortal.

Alex shrugged. “I guess.”

“No, Alex,” Valandur said. “Do not think you will offend Ron if you do not want him there. If you would prefer to speak to Brian and the others alone, that will be perfectly fine with him, and if at some point you feel he should be there, then he will be.”

“He’s going to know anyway,” Alex protested. “I might as well save myself the bother of repeating everything to him next week.”

“That may be true, but it should not dictate how you feel now,” Brethorn said. “If you would prefer not to have him present at this time, then say so.”

Alex sighed, rubbing the space between his eyes. “Six months ago, I could make snap decisions that meant either life or death for me or someone else. Now, I have trouble deciding which shirt to wear in the morning, and I feel tired all the time, like I’m being drained of energy or something.”

“You have suffered a great deal of emotional turmoil in recent months from what I understand,” Brethorn said sympathetically. “It is only natural for you to feel this way. Let us do this. For the moment, it will just be us Reborn. Once you are comfortable with us, if you still want Ron to be present then we will call him. Does that meet with your approval?” Alex nodded. “Good. Val, will you tell Ron when he and Holly get here?”

“Yes, of course,” Valandur replied. “In the meantime, I had better warn whoever is cooking tonight to add two extra plates.” With that, he headed for the kitchen and Brethorn continued climbing the stairs with Alex following.

When they reached the sunroom, Alex gravitated to the large windows looking out onto the back garden while Brethorn found a seat and waited with an air of patience that astounded Alex, though he refused to comment on it.

“Looks as if Gil found the others,” he said, pointing out the window. “Three people are coming out of the woods and heading this way. Why do they hang out in the woods all the time? It’s still bloody cold out.”

Brethorn chuckled. “Pure Reborn stubbornness.”

“Yeah, but what do they do there all day? Hug the trees and sing with the birds? C’mon. That is so… I don’t know… lame.”

Brethorn laughed. “From a Mortal’s point of view, perhaps.”

Alex had no comment on that and remained silent, staring out the window, watching as Gil and the other two made their way into the back garden. He turned around and stood waiting and a few minutes later Beleg and Edrahil arrived.

“You require our presence?” Beleg asked Brethorn, the two newcomers eyeing Alex speculatively.

Brethorn spoke quickly in Sindarin, apparently explaining why they had been summoned, while Alex remained standing, feeling suddenly shy and embarrassed as the other two Elves gave him appraising looks. At the end of Brethorn’s recital, Beleg nodded.

“Speaking of your experience will help,” he said in English. “Why do we not sit and be comfortable,” and he and Edrahil found seats on either side of Brethorn while Alex sat facing them.

For a long moment, the four just sat there in silence. Alex had the feeling that the Elves were waiting for him to make the first move, to dictate how the conversation would go. He suddenly wished that Derek were there to lend support. His gwador had a way of putting everything in perspective and seeing the absurdity of the situation. And it was absurd, the four of them sitting there to speak about having died.

It’s like this is a meeting of Done Been Dead Dudes Anonymous. Alex could almost hear Derek saying something like that and he couldn’t help grinning. The Elves took note.

“And what is so amusing?” Brethorn asked.

Alex shrugged. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about what Derek would say about all this. He came up with this expression about someone being Námo’d. He claimed that Námo was a verb waiting to happen.”

The Elves all laughed. “Then we have all been Námo’d,” Edrahil said when they had calmed down and the other three Elves nodded in agreement. “I remember once in Mandos becoming overly excited about something and apparently none of the Maiar attendants were able to calm me down. Then Lord Námo was there and he spoke a single word in no language I had ever heard before and the next thing I know I’m waking up in my chambers and he was there waiting for me.”

“Gave you one of his little chats, did he?” Brethorn asked with a knowing smile.

“Oh yes,” Edrahil replied with great feeling.

“Is he always so scary?” Alex couldn’t help asking.

“Personally, I think it is part of an act that he puts on for our benefit,” Beleg replied. “There were too many times when he held one of us and comforted us much as a parent would comfort a small child. He is scary, as you put it, only when he needs to be, but I suspect it is not the role he prefers to play.”

Brethorn and Edrahil nodded. Then Brethorn spoke. “Perhaps if we were to describe our own experiences in dying and facing Lord Námo, that will help.”

“Sure, but I don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable about it,” Alex said.

“We have no problem speaking about it, Alex,” Beleg said. “We have had more than enough time to get used to the idea.” He turned to Edrahil. “You were judged before all the Valar, were you not?”

“Yes, but I still was met by Lord Námo before that.”

“Why were you judged?” Alex asked. “I don’t remember being judged, and why before all the Valar?”

Before any of the Elves could answer, Finrod was at the door along with Glorfindel. Alex gave them a falsely cheerful smile. “Welcome to Done Been Dead Dudes Anonymous, gentlemen. My name is Alex….”

Glorfindel grinned, stepping further into the room. “Hello, Alex,” he drawled.

“…and I’ve done been dead,” Alex finished.

Glorfindel laughed but Finrod and the others just stared at the two of them as if they were not sure who was crazier.

“Done been dead dudes anonymous?” Finrod asked as he came further into the room.

“I’ll explain later,” Glorfindel said, as he and Finrod found seats. “So, do you want to tell us what this is all about?” Glorfindel asked Alex.

“Are you familiar with the poem Beowulf?” Alex asked him.

Glorfindel nodded. “Yes. I remember when it first made the rounds of the meadhalls. It was quite an exciting tale and everyone thought it splendid, though I didn’t care for the ending myself, however realistic it might have been.”

Alex gulped and his eyes widened at the very nonchalant manner in which the Elf spoke of an event that was lost in the mists of time to become more legend than history. “Oh… ah, well, I had an assignment where I had to analyze a section of the poem. The instructor gave it to us in the original Old English. Val was helping me with the assignment and he wanted to know what the verses said so I found a translation online. It… it was a description of Grendel’s mere.”

Glorfindel nodded. “And it reminded you of Winterdark Tarn.”

“I know they’re not the same,” Alex said. “Grendel’s mere is overhung by trees and it’s more a bog than anything else from what I could tell, but it was just… I don’t know… eerie and it brought to mind the tarn and then I was back there drowning in the cold and the dark and…”

He was beginning to hyperventilate and as hard as he tried to stay calm, he felt himself panicking again. All five Elves started to rise but Glorfindel, sitting next to him, got to him first, pulling him into his embrace and rubbing his back. “It’s all right, Alex. Stay calm. That’s it. Breathe.”

“Damn! Why do I keep panicking?” Alex protested after a moment or two.

“That is why we are here,” Finrod said, “to help you through this.”

“Alex was saying that more frightening for him than the process of dying was coming face-to-face with Lord Námo,” Brethorn told them.

“Oh, yes,” Glorfindel said with some feeling as he released Alex from his hold so they could sit. “Even more frightening than being judged by all the Valar.”

“Edrahil said something about being judged,” Alex said. “I don’t remember being judged. I don’t think I was there long enough. Lord Námo kept asking me if I wanted to be saved. Saved from what? I still don’t know.”

“What were his exact words?” Finrod asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Why? What difference does it make?” Alex demanded.

“The Valar never lie, but they are careful with the truth and with their words,” Finrod explained. “It will be informative to know precisely what Lord Námo said. In his words may lie the clue you need to understand what is happening here.”

Alex frowned, trying to dredge up a memory and a conversation he had studiously forgotten until now. “He… he kept asking if I wanted to be saved, or no, not saved, rescued. That’s the word he used, but they mean the same, don’t they?”

“In a sense,” Glorfindel replied, “but you know that in this culture ‘saved’ has more religious connotations attached to it, while ‘rescue’ tends to have more mundane connotations, such as being rescued from a fire or drowning. People speak of being saved, not rescued, when they refer to a religious conversion. Do you feel you’ve been saved in that sense and that is why you’ve been using that word instead of ‘rescue’?”

Alex shrugged, not sure how to answer that question.

“What else did Lord Námo say to you, do you remember?” Brethorn asked.

“Ah, he said something about there being many things from which one can be rescued and death was the least of them and that’s when he sent me back.” He gave them a mirthless chuckle. “It was a very short interview and there was no judging. And why didn’t I experience going through a tunnel toward a white light and dead people greeting me like everyone else who claims to have had a near-death experience? No one I’ve read about has ever mentioned meeting Lord Námo. I feel almost cheated.”

“Perhaps the encounter was too frightening for them and they have blocked it from their conscious memory,” Finrod suggested.

“I guess,” Alex said, not sounding too convinced. “So, what now?”

“That is up to you, Alex,” Glorfindel said. “We’re here for you, not the other way around. All of us in this room have been where you are now. All of us have had to come to terms with dying and living again. We spent centuries in Mandos, totally unaware that there was even a life beyond its walls, until we were once again re-embodied. I remember feeling a sense of having been cheated of a life I could no longer claim. I died here in Middle-earth, but when I returned, I found myself back in Aman, in the one place I did not want to be, and I think that was true for all of you, as well, am I correct?” He addressed this to the other Elves and they all nodded.

“What was most frustrating was not being able to learn what had happened after I had died,” Brethorn said. “I died defending Fingon in the Battle of Sudden Flame but I could not learn what followed, at least not at first. I remember while in Lórien making plans to find a boat and sail back to Middle-earth, to the only place I considered ‘home’,  though I had been born in Valinor. Of course, I had no idea where the nearest boat was or how to get there.” He chuckled slightly, his eyes brightening with memory and the others grinned back. “It was a long time before I accepted that Aman was now my home and always would be.”

“And that holds true for all of us,” Finrod said. “Even though I was born in Aman and only lived in Beleriand for a little over three hundred years of the sun, I always thought Nargothrond to be my true home and finding myself back in Aman felt more like exile than living in Middle-earth ever did.”

“Well, that certainly isn’t my problem at the moment,” Alex countered. “Like I said, I wasn’t dead all that long. It’s just an odd thing to ask someone, do you want to be rescued? Why wouldn’t I?”

“That is the question,” Glorfindel said. “Assuming Lord Námo was not referring to being rescued from drowning, for he had already sent his people to save you from it, from what do you think you needed to be rescued?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe from myself or from the Agency or what it was doing to me. Ron thinks my troubles really began when I was assigned to terminate one of my colleagues who had betrayed us.”

“And do you agree?” Finrod asked.

“Yeah, sure. Looking back, I know that affected me more than any other assignment I’d had, and it wasn’t the first termination order I’d been given, but the others were people I really didn’t know. Junior… Junior was the closest thing to a friend I actually had in the Agency.” He shook his head, as if to clear it of memories. “I think we’re getting a bit far afield here. We were talking about dying.”

“Then let’s talk about dying,” Glorfindel said.

Only, Alex didn’t know what else to say and the Elves remained silent, apparently waiting for him to speak, sitting patiently, as if none of them had anywhere else to go or anything better to do. The silence stretched and Alex tried not to squirm. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair.

“Man, this is so awkward,” he muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

Glorfindel reached over and began rubbing his back and for some reason that simple gesture broke something within Alex and to his everlasting shame he found himself silently weeping. He tried to stop, to pull himself together, but it seemed as if a dam had broken within him and he couldn’t stop. None of the Elves moved or commented, allowing him the space he needed to release the emotions that had been bottled up for so long. Glorfindel continued rubbing his back and Finrod, sitting on the opposite side, stroked his hair.

Eventually, the tears slowed and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Brethorn had gotten up at some point and left the room, returning with a wet cloth and a box of tissues, silently handing the cloth to Alex as he placed the tissues on the coffee table. Alex nodded his thanks, wiping his face with the warm cloth, which helped to restore his equilibrium. Then he blew his nose.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said softly, not looking at anyone.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Alex,” Glorfindel said, giving him a slight smile. “You’ve obviously been keeping a lot of this inside you and the fact that the poem has affected you as it has tells me that this was long overdue.”

“Ron said that I was lured into the tarn by whatever sleeps there. Can that be true?”

“It is what we believe,” Glorfindel said carefully. “You were the only one there who felt any uneasiness. Zach, Derek and the children apparently felt nothing unusual about the place. I asked Zach what induced him to choose that place for a picnic, especially when I had told him specifically not to go there and certainly not to go there with the children.”

“What was his explanation?” Finrod asked.

“He claimed that his original plan was to go to Chandalar and have the picnic in the park along the lake, but when he got to the turn-off to Chandalar, he continued going straight and headed for the Mt. Horace Resort. And that, in and of itself, was fine, but he chooses to take the most difficult trail with three kids, one of them a five-year-old. He really had no explanation except that at the time it felt like a good idea.”

“Do you think he was being influenced?” Beleg asked with a frown.

“Sounds like it,” Edrahil commented. “It sounds as if whatever sleeps in the tarn wanted Alex there for purposes of its own.”

“I am not familiar with the geography as I have not been to Chandalar and we only went to the tarn the one time,” Brethorn said. “How close to Chandalar is this resort?”

The others gave him speculative looks. “You think that it was only when they came into proximity to the tarn that Zach was influenced to bring them there,” Glorfindel said.

Brethorn nodded. “It is possible, is it not?”

“Whoa,” Alex protested. “That is just too freaky.”

“But plausible,” Finrod pointed out. “We are not sure what is there or what powers it has, only that it is old, very old, and evil.”

“But why? Why me?” Alex asked. “Did it want me dead or what?”

“That is something we do not know,” Glorfindel replied. “We only know that when you were brought in, we could all sense the darkness clinging to your fëa, your soul. Dan and Roy struggled to free you from it and a number of us had to pitch in to help. We almost lost you once or twice.”

“Sometimes I’ve wondered if… if it was attracted to me, that it recognized me as a… a kindred spirit or something, that I was evil and….”

“No, Alex, you are not evil and never have been,” Glorfindel said firmly. “Yes, you’ve done things that others might label as evil, but so have we all at one time or another. In spite of it you still retained a core of goodness and decency and you never relinquished it. That was and is your saving grace. Have you ever considered the idea that perhaps that thing meant to eliminate you from the playing field? Remember, the Valar arranged for you to come here, to join us. Is it not possible that the Enemy attempted to thwart whatever plans the Valar have for you?”

Alex gave him a skeptical look. “You make it sound as if I were important.”

“And aren’t you?” Glorfindel countered. “Aren’t we all?”

“You maybe. You’re Elves. I’m just a run-of-the-mill Mortal. We’re a dime a three thousand dozen.”

“Do not belittle yourself,” Edrahil said, speaking sharply. “I am told you are descended from Beren himself. He was a Mortal like you, not particularly handsome as Mortals go, rather on the short side, as I recall. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about him, and yet, his actions reverberate down the ages and affect us all, whether we realize it or not. Without him, none of us would be sitting here today. Without him, this world would have long been lost to Morgoth’s darkness. He did what no Elf was able to do.”

“Well, he did have help,” Finrod said with a glint of humor in his eyes.

Edrahil nodded. “Yes, but we’re talking about Beren, not Lúthien or even you, Finrod. Together they achieved much, but it was Beren who accepted the challenge from Thingol and sought you out. Your own fate was woven with his, as was mine and Bregdal’s and the others who chose to follow you. All I’m saying is that Alex should not think himself less because he is a Mortal. The Enemy sought to eliminate Alex from the battlefield as early as possible, which tells me that he, at least, deems Alex a threat to his own plans.”

“And that’s really scary to think about,” Alex said. “So are we just pawns on a celestial chessboard?”

“Pawns?” Brethorn repeated. “Perhaps, but if so, we are very important pawns or else the Valar would not have bothered to tell us what our roles are in this particular game of chess.”

“And remember, Alex,” Glorfindel said, “you are not the only Mortal being recruited.”

“But so far I seem to be the only one who’s had the pleasure of being the object of the Enemy’s regard and deemed dangerous enough to try to eliminate, if what you’ve said is true.”

“But you are dangerous,” Brethorn retorted. “The Mortals who are being recruited are generally ordinary people with no special skills that I’m aware of, although I gather from what Glorfindel and others have told us that a large number of them have military experience, which only makes sense, but your background in intelligence puts you in a different category altogether, I think.”

“Brian’s right, Alex,” Glorfindel said. “You and Amroth, along with Derek and Val, are important to us for gathering the intelligence that we need. Until now we’ve concentrated on recruitment, but we need to start training people more systematically and we need to have a good sense of what is happening around us. Dan and Roy meeting Gwyn and Gareth was not coincidental, nor was your coming to Wiseman. The SCA is an excellent cover for training the warriors and the Wiseman Intelligence Agency will become more and more important as time goes on.”

“And do not think that you are the only one who has been targeted by the Enemy, Alex,” Finrod said. “Others have also been targeted, including me.”

“And me,” Glorfindel added. “Though in my case, I think it’s been an ongoing project.” He cast them a bright smile.

“What do you mean?” Beleg asked.

“Do you know how many times I’ve come close to dying over the ages?” Glorfindel stated. “I probably hold the record for the most times a Reborn has almost died again and made Lord Námo’s day.”

Alex snorted in amusement, picturing Glorfindel standing before the Lord of Mandos with that cheeky look he often had on his face and Námo rolling his eyes. The Elves gave him curious looks and he held up his hands. “Sorry, but the image of Loren standing in front of Nate and going ‘I’m back’ and Nate looking horrified just sort of struck me funny.”

The Elves chuckled. “And with good reason,” Beleg said and the others nodded while Glorfindel smirked.

Then he gave Alex a more considering look. “Are you going to be okay now?”

Alex sighed a little. “I suppose. Talking’s helped.”

“You know you can always come to any of us if you need to talk some more,” Finrod said, gesturing to the other Elves. “I think it is important that you realize that your experience is not unique, that you are not alone in having died and lived to tell about it.”

Alex grinned. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Just then, Alphwen came to the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, Alfa,” Glorfindel said. “I think we’re about done here anyway. Are Ron and Holly here yet?”

“Yes, they arrived some time ago. Did you want Ron?”

Everyone looked at Alex, who realized the question had been directed at him and he shook his head. “No, I’m cool.” With that, he stood up and the others did as well and they all trooped downstairs and made their way into the library where Vorondur and Ercassë were conversing with Daeron and Valandur.

Vorondur gave Alex a searching look. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m fine, or rather, I’m better,” Alex replied. “Talking helped.”

“Good. We’ll get together next Friday at our usual time if that’s okay with you and perhaps we can discuss it further,” Vorondur said.

“Sure,” Alex said, though he didn’t seem too enthused by the idea.

Vorondur gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’ve come a long way in a short time, Alex. Do not feel discouraged. Setbacks happen in all our lives, and now that you’ve begun to face what happened to you at the tarn you can move forward again. I have wanted you to speak about your experience for some time now but I hesitated to ask you directly and you ignored my hints so I let it go. I’m glad that that poem forced you to deal with what happened to you. I do not think you can move forward in your life until you do. Today was a good start, but only that.”

“But you don’t really understand what I went through,” Alex pointed out. “You’ve never died.”

“No, that’s true, though, inevitably I’ve come close to it over the long years of living in this world, but I have not experienced most of the psychological ills that plague Mortals either, yet I am able to counsel them and help them to deal with their problems. This is no different.”

 “Okay,” Alex said, capitulating. “So, can we talk about something else now? This is getting old.”

“And what topic would you suggest?” Finrod asked.

“Who do you think will win the Super Bowl on Sunday? The Giants or the Patriots?”

The Valinórean Elves looked puzzled, not understanding the reference, but the Wiseman Elves just raised their eyebrows. “Do you really care?” Daeron asked.

“Hey! I’m from New Hampshire,” Alex exclaimed. “The Patriots are practically my home team and this is their chance to even the score against the Giants after they ruined the Patriots’ perfect season in twenty-oh-seven.”

“What’s a super bowl?” Edrahil asked.

“And are there still giants living in this day and age?” Beleg added. “I thought they disappeared a long time ago.”

The Wiseman Elves chuckled and Alex grinned. “Come on,” Glorfindel said. “Let’s go eat and we’ll explain.”

They started out but then Glorfindel stopped and gave Alex a sober look. “Just promise us one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Under no circumstances should you ever go near Mt. Horace Resort or the tarn unless one of us is with you.”

“No fear of that,” Alex said with some feeling. “That’s the last place on earth I ever want to find myself.”

“Good. Let’s go eat.”