74: Dinner at Edhellond

By the time Alex and Valandur reached Edhellond, it was full dark and Alex was nearly frozen, the temperature having plunged well into the minuses. Valandur had to help unbutton his coat as if he were a little kid he was shaking so hard and his fingers refused to work properly. Eärnur, who happened to open the door for them, took one look at Alex and began issuing orders.

“Shower, now,” he said to Valandur. “You bring him up. I’ll get the water ready.” And before Alex could utter any sort of protest, the Elf was rushing up the stairs.

“I… I… I’m f-f-fine,” Alex stuttered. “J-just need t-t-to warm up a bit.”

“Yes, I’m sure you think so,” Valandur said with a grin, “but a hot shower will help.”

Just then, the front door opened and Vorondur and Amroth were there. Valandur greeted them in Quenya, speaking too rapidly for Alex to follow. Both ellyn nodded and were throwing off their coats.

“Come along, Alex,” Vorondur said. “Let’s get you into a nice hot shower.” And he took the Mortal by the elbow and led him up the stairs with Valandur and Amroth following. Glorfindel, Finrod and Daeron came down the hall from the library and greeted everyone. Valandur gabbled something to them in Quenya and they nodded.

“We have some soup warming on the stove,” Glorfindel said, speaking English. “That should help as well.”

“We’ll be down shortly,” Vorondur said. “Come along, Alex. The sooner you take a shower, the better you’ll feel.”

It was nearly a half an hour before Alex was done with his shower and had redressed, looking and feeling much warmer. Vorondur and Eärnur had volunteered to stay with him while Valandur and Amroth went back downstairs. Now, everyone was congregated in the library with Alex settled before the fire, a quilt wrapped around his knees and a bowl of chicken noodle soup in his hands.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said to the Elves, but Glorfindel refused to let him speak just yet.

“Finish your soup first. There’s plenty of time. Dinner’s not for another hour or so and we can always delay it if necessary.”

Alex complied with the orders and in a short time had finished off the soup, sighing with contentment as he placed the empty bowl on the table next to him. The Elves had moved away to give him some privacy, speaking softly in Quenya to one another as Valandur filled them in on what he knew.

“How long was he in the church?” Glorfindel asked.

“A good half an hour,” Valandur replied. “There was no one there except the priest. When Alex came out, there was something different about him, a resolve that was not there previously. He had been feeling anxious and restless all day, barely concentrating on the lectures and not saying much of anything. When he came out of the church, the anxiety was gone from him and there was a new sense of purpose in his voice.”

“Well, as soon as he finishes his soup, we will listen to what he has to say,” Glorfindel said, then turned to speak to Alex.

“Is there anyone specifically you wish to be here, Alex? Some of us are out in the woods and others are in town. I can call in the ones in the woods, if you like.”

Alex shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary, but is there a way to contact the resort and get Derek online? He needs to hear what I have to say and I don’t want to have to repeat myself constantly.”

“Give me a couple of minutes to call the resort and we’ll see,” Glorfindel said and went over to the computer on the desk and booted it up, accessing Skype as soon as he was able and dialing the resort. Someone picked up the phone at the other end and Glorfindel asked for Derek, explaining that it was an emergency. It took another few minutes for Derek to come to the phone.

“Derek, hi, it’s Loren. Can you get on to Skype? Alex is here and apparently there’s something he needs to tell us and you… Sure… we’ll wait… Check under DelaFiore… yes….”

Alex got up from his chair and wandered over to where Glorfindel was and waited for Derek’s image to pop up. Glorfindel moved out of the chair. “Why don’t you sit here and tell us what this is all about?”

Derek’s image came on and the former sailor smiled. “You okay, mate?” he asked.

Alex nodded, suddenly feeling tongue-tied. He looked up at the Elves: Glorfindel, Finrod, Daeron, Vorondur, Valandur, Amroth and Eärnur. They stood around him, their expressions ones of sympathy; there was no sense of judgment about them. He thought maybe all the Elves should be there, but decided it wasn’t necessary. Soon enough they would all know the truth about him. He glanced at the screen where he could see Derek waiting patiently. No doubt he had a lot of work to get back to, and as accommodating as Marty might be, Derek was still on the clock. He couldn’t sit there forever.

Alex swallowed, suddenly feeling sick. His breathing became shallow and he felt the sweat popping out, his hands and brow feeling clammy. This was going to be harder than he thought. Vorondur knelt in front of him, taking his right wrist and checking his pulse. He looked up at Eärnur. “Would you get some water?” he asked and the Teler nodded and left. Vorondur, meanwhile, spoke quietly to Alex. “Try to breathe normally. It’s all right. Take your time. You’re going to be all right. We’re all your friends, Alex. Whatever you have to tell us, I promise we will still be your friends.”

Eärnur returned just then with a tall glass of water, handing it to Alex who drank most of it in a single gulp. It seemed to help, for he appeared calmer as he placed the empty glass on the table. Vorondur continued to kneel before him, gently rubbing Alex’s arm, willing calm.

“Take your time,” he told the Mortal.

“But not forever,” Derek added with a grin. “It’s almost time for dinner here. Pot roast. Yum.”

Alex managed a weak smile at Derek’s levity. “I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be. It was easier telling Father Waverly.”

“Val said you were in the church for a good half hour,” Glorfindel commented.

Alex nodded. He swallowed nervously and kept his gaze on his lap as he spoke. “When I…died, before Atar sent me back, he showed me a garden….” The telling, while not long, was done in fits and starts and Alex wasn’t sure if he was making any kind of sense. By the time he finished his narrative he was nearly in tears again. He sat there, staring at his lap, waiting, dreading to look up to see expressions of horror or disgust on the faces of his listeners. He refused to even look at the computer, at Derek. The silence seemed to stretch into eternity.

Vorondur, still kneeling in front of him, stood up. “Alex, look at me,” he ordered softly.

Alex reluctantly looked up. Vorondur smiled warmly at him, brushing a hand through the Mortal’s hair. “Thank you for trusting us with this, child.”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Alex started weeping in earnest and Vorondur pulled him up and embraced him.

“Shh… it’s all right, child. It’s going to be all right.”

“Hey, Alex. Alex,” they heard Derek calling and Alex pulled out of Vorondur’s embrace and sat down, wiping the tears from his eyes. Eärnur handed him some tissues so he could blow his nose. He looked at the screen. “That Agency of yours really screwed you up, mate,” Derek said when he was sure he had Alex’s attention. “But that’s okay. You’re still a good person and don’t let anyone tell you differently. When I get back on Sunday, we’ll talk, okay?”

Alex nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. Sorry, gotta go. Ron, you keep him safe for me or so help me….”

“It need not be said, Derek,” Vorondur said. “We’re all here for Alex. We’ll see you Sunday.”

Derek nodded and then the connection was terminated and the screen went blank. Alex sat there, feeling a bit numb, not sure what he was supposed to do next, if anything. Glorfindel leaned over and shut down the computer. Alex looked up at him.

“Ron is right,” Glorfindel said. “We’re very happy that you trusted us enough with this.”

The others all nodded, their expressions ones of sympathy and compassion rather than rejection.

“We’re sorry you had to suffer such an experience, Alex,” Glorfindel continued, “but trust me when I say that you’re in good company. None of us can claim to be saints by any stretch of the imagination. Now, come and have dinner with us. It’s not pot roast, just spaghetti and meatballs.”

Alex ventured a smile. “Spaghetti and meatballs sounds good.”

“Great. Ron, Amroth, you’re invited, too. Why don’t you call your wives and have them join us?”

“We’ll do that, thanks,” Amroth said, then turned to Alex. “We’ll get through this together, okay? You’re not alone, Alex. You never have been.”

Alex nodded. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “I know that now, and more importantly, I believe it.”

The Elves looked at him in approval. “Why don’t you sit here for a while in peace?” Glorfindel suggested. “We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Finrod offered to remain with him and, as the others left, the two of them moved to sit before the fire with Alex just gazing at the flames, trying to figure out what he was feeling, while Finrod softly hummed a tune that sounded suspiciously like a lullaby. Before he realized what was happening, Alex fell asleep.

****

Alex woke when someone softly called his name and gently shook him. He blinked open his eyes to see Finrod staring down at him.

“Damn! Did I fall asleep?” he exclaimed, pushing himself out of the chair.

Finrod gave him an amused look. “You were emotionally drained. I think the nap did you good, did it not?”

Alex took a second to stretch and realize the truth of the Elf’s words. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Dinner is nearly ready,” Finrod said. “Why don’t you wash up and join us?”

Alex nodded and they left the library. Finrod continued down the hall while Alex stopped at the lavatory. Five minutes later he was joining the Elves in the dining room. Finlay and Sakari were there as well.

“We’re going to head back to Sakari’s village tomorrow,” Finlay said. “We’re a bit overdue, actually. I only stuck around because these guys sort of recruited me to keep an eye on you until Farrell was dealt with.”

“What about whoever was helping him, though?” Alex asked. “Do the police or the FBI have any clues? Felicity said she has no way to identify them.”

“The police aren’t looking and the FBI has been sent packing,” Glorfindel answered. “If and when Farrell ever recovers, he will probably be sent back to prison, but in the meantime, he’s being transferred to a facility in Anchorage that specializes in coma patients. He’ll get the best of care there.”

“How did you swing that?” Alex asked.

Glorfindel gave him a bright smile. “The nice thing about being immortal is that you garner lots of, shall we say, IOUs over time. I called in a few favors and your Agency was most cooperative thanks to Madison and Mr. Sanderson. Also, Judge Harrison has claimed legal jurisdiction over Mr. Farrell and authorized the transfer. He’ll be moved this weekend. As far as Dave Michaelson is concerned, the case is closed. Whoever was helping Farrell, if they’re smart, they are long gone.”

“And if they’re not?” Finlay asked.

“Then they will have us to deal with,” Glorfindel replied, his expression darkening, his tone becoming frigid, “and woe betide them because we Elves do not take prisoners and never have.”

Alex actually shivered at the ellon’s tone and both Finlay and Sakari looked a bit shaken. A pall settled over them but then Glorfindel smiled again and the moment passed as if it had never been. “So, we’ll have to load you down with lots of goodies to keep you happy, Edward, while you are languishing in the Great White North.”

The others grinned and Finlay chuckled. “Just get me that satellite link-up and I’ll be fine. Anyway, it’s not a bad place to live, really. I think Sakari’s dad really wants to help the youngsters to better themselves without having to leave the village to do it. Teaching them French and English and what-have-you should help. And listen,” his expression became more solemn as he glanced around the table. “You need me, you call me and I’ll be there. Now that I know what the stakes really are, I want in all the way. I think eventually Sakari and I will be moving back here, maybe in a few years, depending.”

“And we will welcome you when you do,” Glorfindel said, raising his glass. “A toast to Edward and Sakari. Safe journey and may you be blessed in your life together.”

Everyone else raised their glasses. “Edward and Sakari,” they intoned.

When the toast was done, Alex addressed a question to Finlay. “What about your contacts at the Agency? Do you still have any?”

“Oh, sure, and I’ve spent a little time while I was here reestablishing contact. I may be out of the Game, sort of, but I’m not an idiot. My contacts may well come in handy someday. Why? Did you totally divorce yourself from the Agency?”

“Yes,” Alex said shortly. “After I got Shanna Machell killed….”

“Whoa! When was this? Spill it Meriwether. You’ve not told me everything and I refuse to continue in the dark.”

Alex sighed. “I needed info on Farrell. I had this crazy dream one night. Paul Jackson, you remember him, don’t you?”

Finlay nodded. “You used to call him Junior and he always called you Old Man.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, in my dream, Jackson told me that I had coworkers who could help me with Farrell, particularly Shanna Machell.”

“Blond bombshell with an IQ that makes Einstein look like a gibbering idiot?” Finlay interrupted.

“That’s the one,” Alex said grimly. “I contacted her. She made the mistake of going to Maddy about it. Maddy told her to drop it but apparently she didn’t and someone else in the Agency found out what she was doing and arranged for an… accident.”

“Damn!” Finlay exclaimed, understanding what Alex was saying.

“There was collateral damage,” Glorfindel interjected soberly. “Three other people, innocents, died as well.”

“After that, I tendered my resignation, placed it directly into Maddy’s hands when she came here and—”

“Madison Washburn actually left her office and entered the field?” Finlay exclaimed in disbelief.

Alex grinned at the nonplused expression on the agent’s face. “Miracles do happen,” he quipped.

Finlay just stared at him for a moment. “Damn! I hate missing out on everything,” he muttered and everyone else grinned.

“Well, once we get you that satellite link-up, you shouldn’t miss out on much,” Glorfindel said.

“But it’s going to take forever to travel between here and the village,” Finlay complained. “By the time I get here the fun would be over. I’m really tempted to just stay here and screw the village, but I did promise Sakari’s dad and I’ve never broken a promise and don’t intend to start now. Also, I know Sakari misses her parents and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and everyone else.”

Sakari, who had remained quiet throughout the conversation, trying to follow what was being said with a little help from Ercassë sitting on her other side acting as a translator, wrapped her arms around Finlay and kissed him. “Je t’aime, Edward,” she said softly.

“Je t’aime, ma petite,” Finlay responded, kissing her back, his expression softening.

“Well, I think once you’re back at the village and teaching the youngsters, you’ll find you’re too busy to worry about anything else,” Glorfindel said with a smile. “Also, I think Sakari has her own news. Did you confirm it?” he asked Vardamir.

“Yes,” Vardamir replied. “All the healers agree.”

“Agree? Agree about what?” Finlay demanded.

“Would you like to tell Edward in private, Sakari?” Glorfindel asked, speaking in French.

“Tell me what?” Finlay asked, giving his wife a worried look.

Sakari giggled and then leaned over to whisper something in Finlay’s ear. Alex, guessing at what the news might possibly be, watched as Finlay’s eyes widened. Sakari sat back, her expression wary, as if she wasn’t sure how Finlay would take the news.

Finlay stared at her and then glanced around the table at the expectant looks on the faces of the Elves. “B-b-but how… I mean… I know how… I mean… we’ve been married less than two months. You couldn’t possibly know yet.”

Vardamir chuckled. “We’re Elves, Edward. We can sense new life. Our own ellith always know the moment they conceive.”

“Congratulations, Edward,” Glorfindel said with a sly grin. “You’re going to be a dad.” He raised his glass. “To Edward and Sakari and the little one on its way.”

Everyone raised their own glasses and joined in the toast while Finlay just sat there staring at Sakari with a ridiculous smile on his face.

“So, who’s ready for dessert?” Daeron asked with a mischievous grin. “Edward?”

“Huh? Oh… ah… maybe later,” he muttered and stood, never taking his eyes off Sakari who never took her eyes off him. He helped her to stand. “Um… yeah, later.” And to the amusement of everyone else, Finlay grabbed Sakari’s hand and the two practically ran out of the room. They heard Sakari giggling as they raced up the stairs and then there was the sound of a door slamming.

For a moment there was absolute silence in the dining room and then they all broke out in laughter at the same time.

“So, anyone for dessert?” Daeron asked again once they calmed down and in short order the dishes were cleared and people were retiring to the library with coffee or tea and dessert, congregating into small groups as they held conversations on a variety of topics. Alex sat on the sofa with Amroth on one side of him and Vorondur on the other.

“How are you feeling, son?” Amroth asked solicitously.

“Better,” Alex replied. “Thanks for not bringing up… you know… while we were having dinner.”

“Not exactly an appropriate topic for conversation over a good meal,” Vorondur interjected.

“Does everyone else know?” Alex asked.

“Only if you wish for them to know,” Vorondur replied. “I told those who were here, Eärnur especially, that what was said in the library was to remain there until and unless you gave us permission to tell others. Of course, you can tell them yourself if you wish.”

“Atar said to tell someone,” Alex said. “He didn’t specify who, though he gave suggestions. Thing is, He didn’t say what I should do afterwards.”

“I think that’s up to you,” Amroth said. “What do you think you should do?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. Ever since I came to Wiseman, I’ve found myself at a loss as to what to do half the time. Before… I always knew what to do and how to do it or who to do it to. Now….” He shook his head then occupied himself for a moment drinking his mug of chamomile tea.

“My suggestion, and it’s only that,” Vorondur said, “is to take things slow. Nothing’s really changed except that this burden of guilt you’ve been carrying around you all these years is finally lifted, or I would hope. You can’t change the past, Alex, but as long as you’re alive, you can affect the future for good or for ill. You were caught in a web of darkness created by your controllers in the Agency, but you’ve been given a chance to step into the light. Confessing to us as you did puts you squarely on the side of the Light.”

“Was there any doubt before this?” Alex asked, concerned.

“Yes,” Vorondur said baldly. “I’m afraid there was, but now there’s real hope for you Alex. You just have to remember that you’re not alone, and you have to begin trusting others. That is the key.”

“And we’re here to help you,” Amroth added, patting him on the knee. “You just have to let us.”

“I know. It’s hard, though. I’ve been going it alone for so long.”

“But now you don’t have to,” Vorondur pointed out.

Alex nodded, taking another sip of tea. “Then tell the rest, all of them,” he said. “They need to know who they have in their midst.”

“What about our allies among the good people of Wiseman?” Amroth asked.

Alex shrugged, giving them a knowing smile. “They’ve grown up on James Bond and all that. I don’t think we need to worry about them, do you?”

Both Amroth and Vorondur nodded, returning Alex’s smile with ones of their own.

“We can talk about it more on Friday during our session if you wish,” Vorondur suggested and Alex nodded.

Then all conversations ceased. Finrod had gone to retrieve his harp, and was now back, softly tuning the instrument. Soon he was entertaining them all and Alex allowed himself to slip into the dream world of Elvish song as Finrod sang the Ainulindalë, and for the first time in a long time, he felt safe… and free.

****

Words are French:

Je t’aime: ‘I love you’.

Ma petite: ‘My little one’.