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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

88: Besieged

The days continued to lengthen and warm as the world spun its way toward the Vernal Equinox. With the wedding postponed a month, the pace of preparation slowed somewhat. St. Patrick’s Day came and went, the Valinórean Elves somewhat bemused by it all, especially everyone wearing green, whether they were Irish or not, and the green beer that the Blue Petrel served.

“For many Mortals, Spring really begins on St. Patrick’s Day rather than three days later on the Equinox,” Glorfindel explained to them. “All this green is merely a symbol of what will be in a few weeks when the snow finally goes away.”

As predicted, when the Elves enquired about the clothing store, it was obvious that Jacob VonHoltz was unwilling to sell it to them and instead was placing the store on the auction block. Glorfindel ordered Siobhan Brennan not to pursue the matter. Instead he contacted Gregory Sanderson, the Agency attorney who lived in Seattle and now was secretly working for the Elves, explaining what he wanted. Sanderson assured him that it would not be a problem. “Just let me know when the auction is and I’ll be there.”

In the meantime, the mayoral race went into full swing. Robert Locke came forward and accused Tom Peterson of racism and speciesism, declaring that being a friend to the Elves was not a crime and that since they paid taxes and contributed positively to the community in myriad ways, treating them as one would treat any person, with respect, was the humane thing to do. To further drive home his message, he openly welcomed Gilvegil and Eirien to his campaign.

The line in the sand had been drawn and the gloves were now off.

Peterson, for his part, continued to speak out against the ‘godless Elves’, as he called them, claiming that since none of them were ever seen in a church or synagogue or any other place of worship, then they obviously were atheists or in league with Satan. He began quoting from legends and myths of how the Elves would steal children and replace them with changelings and other reprehensible deeds.

“Do you really want to trust your children to them?” was his battle-cry and the Elves began to notice a certain level of fear and wariness in some of the Mortals whenever any of them were in the vicinity of the schools or playgrounds.

Nielluin came to Edhellond one day in tears, claiming that her child psychology professor had blatantly suggested that she drop out of the program because no one was likely to hire her or trust her with their children. Finrod was naturally incensed and Glorfindel was beyond livid, cursing bigoted Mortals in general and Peterson in particular. It was a tense moment made worse by the fact that the Three Amigos showed up sporting bruises and Calandil even had a gash on his forehead that dripped blood in his eyes.

“We were just walking to the student center to have a snack,” Findalaurë explained, holding an ice bag to his cheek where it was bruised, “and several people saw us and began throwing rocks at us. We were able to outrun them but not before they managed to score a couple of hits.”

“Valar! It’s Nazi Germany all over again!” Elladan exclaimed as he helped Vardamir tend to the wounded.

“Do we take this sitting down or do we fight back?” Barahir asked. “And what about the ellith? Will any of them be safe outside these walls?”

And that was a grave concern for them all. The ellith objected to the idea of having to remain within Edhellond, especially Manwen, who refused to stop working at the hospital, and those ellith who taught classes at the Adult Education Center. Finrod ordered that no elleth was to leave Edhellond unless she was accompanied by at least one ellon, preferably two.

“I’m more concerned about Della, Amroth, Ron and Holly,” Glorfindel confided to Finrod and Daeron later when the three met together to discuss the situation. “They’re vulnerable, more so than the rest of us, living away from here as they do, especially Della and Amroth.”

Finrod nodded in agreement. “Yes, they are, which is why I am calling in some favors.”

Both Glorfindel and Daeron gave him surprised looks. “Oh? And what favors are they and from whom?” Glorfindel asked.

Finrod just smiled grimly, refusing to answer, giving them both a knowing look.

“Oh, I see,” Glorfindel said after a moment. “Well, good luck with that one.”

“Do you doubt that I can do so?” Finrod demanded.

“I don’t doubt that you will give it your best shot, Finrod, but I doubt that the Valar will be that accommodating. They’ll just tell us that it’s our problem and we will have to deal with it as best we can, which we will. I haven’t survived in this world for this long not to have learned a few tricks along the way. If the Valar don’t cough up, then we’ll handle it and to the Void with them all.”

“Deep breaths, Loren,” Daeron said with a tight smile. “Should the elflings drop out of college and return home, do you think? They’re even more vulnerable living away from here.”

“I hesitate to have them do so,” Finrod answered. “It will appear that we are afraid and I will not give these Mortals that satisfaction. I will ask for them to be guarded as well.”

“As I said, good luck,” Glorfindel retorted. “In the meantime, we need to make contingency plans if it all goes south in a big way. Darren, start looking around for a place for us to run to if we need to. I want all weapons checked and we’re to take turns guarding this place, both front and back. No one, and I mean no one, goes out alone, not even you, Finrod. You are to have someone with you when you go to work. Whoever it is will just have to content themselves with spending most of the day at the bookstore. If nothing else, they can catch up on their reading. I’m going to call Geoff Harris and have all the healers placed on the day shift and I also need to speak with Dave Michaelson and Carl Graff about beefing up the patrol along Sycamore and Evergreen.”

“It sounds as if we’re about to turn into an armed camp,” Daeron said. “Is that wise?”

“No, probably not,” Glorfindel allowed, “but I prefer to be safe than sorry. We will keep the gates open and it will seem to anyone watching that we are unconcerned about what is happening, but we do not let our guard down for one minute. You know how chancy Mortals can be. Even our friends can suddenly turn on us. We’ve seen it happen before so there’s no reason to think it can’t happen here.”

Daeron nodded, looking pensive. “True. Too true. Very well. I think if we have to leave, our best bet would be Fairbanks. It will be easier to disappear into the crowd, so to speak. I’ll contact Gwyn and have him and Gareth start looking for a suitable place. The barony could probably help in that as well. Hopefully, it will never come to it, but, as you pointed out, we didn’t survive this long in the Mortal world without planning ahead for most eventualities.”

“So, until further notice, it’s business as usual,” Glorfindel said. “Hopefully, our friends will step up to the plate and show the naysayers that they can’t have it all their own way.”

His wish came true in a surprising way.

Word had gotten out about the attack on the Three Amigos. Several students showed up at Edhellond to enquire about them, claiming to be their friends.

“Hey, what those bozos did was just plain wrong,” one of them said to Cennanion who had answered the door and was naturally reluctant to let them in. “We just want to make sure our friends are okay.”

In the end, with Finrod and Glorfindel’s permission, the students were allowed to see for themselves that Findalaurë, Calandil and Elennen were well, if bruised. Already, Calandil’s gash was closing and beginning to fade, but it was evident enough for their Mortal friends to feel shock and anger at the sight of it. The visit was brief with the Three Amigos admitting that they would not be returning to the college until after the weekend.

“We need time to… heal,” Findalaurë said, and the Mortals understood that he was not necessarily speaking about physical healing.

Even as the students were leaving, three other visitors came to the door: Charles Waverly, Josiah Makepeace and Daniel Cohen.

“Oy, what a mess!” the rabbi exclaimed as he and the other two ministers were shown to the library where Finrod, Glorfindel, Daeron and Valandur were waiting for them. “I must remember to dig out my grandfather’s yellow star. You might need it.”

Both Glorfindel and Daeron grimaced at that, understanding the Man’s implications. Again, the meeting between Elves and Mortals was short, but definitely to the point, the three ministers wishing to ascertain the truth of certain rumors, listening to the tale that Findalaurë told when he was summoned.

“You’re right, Daniel,” Josiah said with a shake of his head. “It is an unholy mess.” He cast his fellow ministers a grim smile. “To battle, my friends?”

“Deus vult,” Charles intoned and Daniel nodded.

“Whoa! Wait a minute,” Glorfindel exclaimed. “This is not your fight and just what do you plan to do, anyway?”

“Well now,” Charles said with a smug look, “you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” And with that the three Men took their leave, the Elves watching in bemusement as they drove off together, Charles and Daniel having gotten a lift with Josiah.

That was Friday. On Saturday, the Elves discovered Edhellond surrounded, or at least the front gates blocked. Finrod and Glorfindel were called to the front door by a slightly panicked Edrahil, who had been standing watch and was uncertain as to what he should do. Close to thirty people were outside the gates carrying signs that read “Elves Go Home!” and “Earth for Humans!” and other less complimentary slogans. They chanted and marched and pretty much blocked the entrance, not allowing anyone to leave. Someone was seen dumping what appeared to be iron nails across the front of the drive.

“Why are they doing that?” Finrod asked in confusion.

Glorfindel actually chuckled, which surprised everyone else. “Traditionally, we of Faerie are allergic to iron. They’re trying to keep us in.”

“But the gates are made of iron!” Finrod protested. “And are not our vehicles mostly iron, yet we travel in them safely? Are these people that stupid?”

“Hey, you want to point out the flaw in their logic, you go right ahead,” Glorfindel said with a shrug. “Me, I’m more concerned about them getting in here and causing damage to property and people.”

By now, all the other Elves were aware that something was going on, having heard the sounds of the protestors, and they came to the front door or hung out of upstairs windows. Some even went out the back door and came around to the front to watch what was happening.

“Oh great,” Glorfindel muttered. “Is that a television crew setting up? I’d better call Dave and Carl.”

They all looked to see the KWTV van coming to a halt and a couple of people climbing out, one of them with a microphone and the other carrying a camera, both making a beeline for the gates, probably intent on getting an interview with the Elves. Surprisingly, though, the protestors actually blocked the entrance, refusing them to pass, which puzzled most of the Elves, though Daeron’s expression was more pensive.

“They’re planning something and they don’t want any interference. You had better have the perimeter checked, Loren. These protestors might simply be a decoy. While our attention is on them, something else is happening.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Ed, let’s call out the troops, but do it quietly. I don’t want the Mortals alerted. Have the walls checked and double the guard on the back gate. Anyone on guard duty is to be in winter camouflage. Repel all intruders. Oh, and take your swords and bows and arrows. The arrows are made of iron, too. Let them see that we do not fear iron and it has no power over us.”

Edrahil gave him a wolfish grin and the ellyn who had been listening scrambled to comply with the orders. Within minutes they all returned to the foyer appropriately dressed and carrying weapons. Edrahil issued commands and everyone trooped out the back way, fading into the winter garden like ghosts, silent as shadows.

Finrod went back inside for his phone and called Nick to tell him what was happening and why he wouldn’t be able to open the bookstore. Nick assured him that all would be well.

“Don’t sweat it,” the Man said. “Help is on the way.” Then he hung up, leaving Finrod to wonder at the Mortal’s words as he went back outside, stopping first for his cloak.

Meanwhile, Glorfindel called Dave Michaelson from the kitchen phone and the Man promised to send a couple of patrol cars over to disperse the crowd and another to check on the house on Evergreen to make sure Amroth and the others living there were safe. Even as the two were speaking, though, there was a further commotion in the front and when Glorfindel came back to the foyer and stepped outside he could see more people had showed up, the crowd outside Edhellond nearly tripling. The newcomers, however, were not carrying signs. Instead, several were carrying silk flowers and ribbons and others apparently had candles which they were passing out to their fellows.

“Hey! We were here first,” one of the sign carriers shouted angrily.

For an answer, one of the Mortals carrying silk flowers presented a rose to the protester who snarled an expletive. The young Woman shrugged and joined her fellows in hanging the flowers and ribbons onto the gates, while two were diligently sweeping up the nails. The protestors tried to stop them, but were politely yet firmly prevented from approaching by the supporters.

More people kept arriving from all directions, including Charles, Josiah and Daniel. Finrod saw Nick in the crowd, holding a candle. All of these people gathered by the gates but did not pass them. More candles were lit and then someone started singing ‘We Shall Overcome’ and everyone else joined in, except the sign carriers, who glared at the others and perhaps wished to disrupt their singing, but they were outnumbered by a factor of three by now and so they simply stood to one side and watched.

 “Good Lord!” Glorfindel heard Daeron mutter. “They’re actually holding a memorial service for us. Did we die and we don’t know it?”

Glorfindel couldn’t help snorting in amusement. “Trust me, Darren, if we had died, we would certainly know it. But I don’t think they’re here to memorialize us. I think they’re here to show their support.”

And when the singing stopped and Josiah stepped forward and began to speak, Glorfindel proved to be correct in his estimation.

“Friends,” the minister called out. “Thank you for coming. I can see many of my congregation here and I see that a fair number of Charles’ and Daniel’s people are here as well and even those who belong to other faiths or no faith. The sight of you here, lending your support to those who have never raised a hand against us….”

“Little does he know,” Alphwen commented softly from where she stood beside Daeron.

“Shh… I want to hear this,” Glorfindel reprimanded her.

“… against us and have been sorely misused by some who are blinded by hatred, does my heart good. The attack on children — for those three ellyn who were set upon with rocks yesterday, are indeed children in the eyes of their elders who are older than any of us can truly comprehend — the attack on children, I say, is a reprehensible act and it shames me to have to admit kinship with those benighted fools.”

There were murmurs of agreement from among the crowd, though the expressions on the faces of the protestors were dark with fury. Then Charles stepped forward to speak.

“My friends, your presence here is a blessing and is pleasing to our Father in heaven, Who looks down on us from on high and what does He see? He sees His children, all His children, both Elves and Mortals. He sees those whose hearts are filled with hatred and fear and He weeps that such darkness should assail them. He sees those whose hearts are filled with love and He smiles and pours His light and grace upon them even more. He sees these Elves who abide in our midst, beloved of Him Who created us all, and He sorrows that any of them would be harmed for just having existed. These Elves, these Firstborn, are as much God’s children as we are and we have no right to judge them or treat them with anything but respect unless they do something to warrant our response otherwise.”

Then Daniel stepped forward, holding up a tattered piece of yellow cloth in the shape of a six-pointed star. “Many of you recognize this symbol,” he said and there was a collective gasp of shock from the crowd. “Yes. This was my grandfather’s, who survived Auschwitz.” And the gasps that followed that statement were even louder. “It has been kept in our family through the years as a reminder of how far we humans can descend into madness and hate. Now I am wondering, if Mr. Peterson wins the mayoral election, will he insist that our Elvish friends wear a similar symbol on their clothes as long as they choose to live among us? If so, I, for one, will gladly wear one as well. What about you?”

And that apparently was a signal, for almost immediately, several people holding shoe boxes began passing out little yellow paper Stars of David, each with a pin and, catching on quickly, the people began pinning the stars to their coats or hats. When someone, either innocently or otherwise, offered a Star of David to the sign carriers, they all scowled in disgust and left.

“They wear Eärendil’s Star, though it is gold and not silver,” Valandur said. “How interesting. I was unaware that the Mortals of this day even knew about Eärendil, except the people of Wiseman, but Daniel’s piece of cloth looks old.”

“They don’t,” Daeron said. “And that is the Star of David Daniel is holding, an ancient, to Mortals that is, symbol of the Jews. I have often wondered if it is not a faint echo of a memory of Eärendil that the ancient Hebrews somehow retained. That any memory of earlier ages, however distorted, survived the ice age is a miracle.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s all very interesting,” Glorfindel muttered, “but save the loremaster discussions for a later time.”

Both Daeron and Valandur exchanged amused glances and Valandur even rolled his eyes.

“Did they stay up all night to make those stars, do you think?” Mithrellas asked from where she was standing with some of the other ellith watching the events. “I can’t believe Rabbi Cohen just happened to have them stashed away somewhere for a rainy day.”

“You got me, Misty,” Glorfindel said, “but I suspect you are right. Daniel must have decided to make the stars as a protest against what was happening.”

Then someone in the crowd began singing ‘Amazing Grace’ and others joined in.

Glorfindel noticed a patrol car inching its way along the street, for cars were parked illegally on both sides, effectively forming a one-lane road. The patrol car slowed to a stop, partially hidden by the crowd, but the officers did not get out, simply watching the proceedings. Glorfindel issued soft commands and several Elves hurried to the kitchen.

In the meantime, the television crew was still filming and the reporter was attempting to get an interview with Daniel and the other two ministers, but they refused to make comments, saying that their actions spoke for them. Daniel even offered a Star of David to the reporter and the Woman took it, but did not pin it on, slipping it into a coat pocket. Her cameraman did pin his on when offered one as well, giving the reporter a shrug when she glared at him. When the reporter attempted to pass the gates, no doubt intent on getting a statement from the Elves, her way was blocked by several people.

“Let’s leave them their privacy,” the Elves heard Josiah telling her. “They’re not on display like animals in a zoo.”

Just then, Edrahil came around the side of the house with Elrohir and Barahir, each of them dragging an unconscious Mortal. Beleg and Cennanion followed, carefully carrying something in their hands. Glorfindel hissed in shock as he recognized what it was they were carrying.

“Explosives?!” he exclaimed.

Elrohir nodded grimly. “We found them attempting to plant enough explosives along the walls that they could have caused serious damage to the house as well. Gil and Gavin are even now dismantling the fuses with Dan supervising. This is military grade stuff, too. Someone’s supplying the opposition with nasty toys.”

“Bring them,” Glorfindel said coldly as he headed for the gates with Finrod at his side. The Mortals all stared in surprise and shock as the Elves approached, stepping away from the gates. The reporter started to speak into her microphone, no doubt as a preliminary to getting an interview, but Glorfindel held up an imperious hand and his expression was cold and unforgiving, his eyes glittering darkly with a barely-banked fire that none of the Mortals could endure for long. Glorfindel said nothing, but continued past the crowd which parted like the Red Sea for Moses, the other Elves following until they were standing in front of the patrol car. The officer in the passenger seat opened his door and stepped out, giving them a wary look.

“We have something for you,” Glorfindel said quietly. “Actually three somethings and their little toys.” He gestured to those behind him. Edrahil, Elorhir and Barahir approached with their unconscious captives and unceremoniously dumped them at the feet of the police officer who stared at the Men in wonder. Beleg and Cennanion also came forward.

“Here. Handle this carefully,” Cennanion said, holding out the trigger mechanism. “You might want to call in a bomb squad. Do you have a bomb squad? Anyway, some of us are dismantling the fuses, but official help would be welcomed.”

“Are you nuts?” the police officer exclaimed in shock even as his partner climbed out of the driver’s seat. “You shouldn’t be touching any of this stuff. It’s not only dangerous, but evidence.”

Elrohir sneered. “Dangerous, yes, but my brother is supervising the removal of the explosives. Don’t worry. He and I were handling this stuff when your grandfather wasn’t a gleam in his father’s eyes. We know what we’re doing, but we would appreciate it if the police come and cart it away for us.”

“I’ll call it in,” the driver said, reaching back inside to pick up the microphone, speaking rapidly. “One-Adam-Two. We have a possible ten-eighty-nine at Edhellond. Request immediate back-up.”

“Ten-four, One-Adam-Two,” they heard the dispatcher say. “Back-up is on its way.”

The driver replaced the microphone and joined his fellow officer who was giving the unconscious Men a once-over to ascertain their conditions.

“Prince Legolas already read these bozos their rights, just before we knocked them out,” Barahir said with a wicked grin.

“Prince Legolas?” the second officer asked. “You mean, Liam?”’

Glorfindel took a look at the Man’s uniform, reading the name tag. “Ah, you’re Officer Lopez, Liam’s partner the other day.”

Lopez nodded. “Where’s Liam now? He actually read them their rights?”

“Liam’s off chasing the other two Men who were setting the explosives,” Elrohir said with a dismissive shrug. “He’ll be along shortly. The fools ran into the woods. Liam will have every tree against them. By the time he’s done with them, they’ll be begging to be taken into custody.” He gave them an almost doting smile, as if he were a teacher commenting on the abilities of a particularly bright child.

Glorfindel chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for the bastards.”

Lopez just shook his head, while his partner looked on with an air of suspicion. “We don’t need vigilantes or civilians interfering with police work. This Leon or whatever his name is shouldn’t be chasing after anyone.”

“Relax, Slayton,” Lopez said mildly. “Liam Prince is one of us, but he is off-duty so when these guys wake up, we’ll re-Mirandize them just to be on the safe side. We’d better call in an ambulance. They look like they’re going to be out for a while.”

All this while, the other Mortals were watching and listening. The reporter, believing the Elves were distracted, thrust her microphone into Finrod’s face, he being the closest to her. “Sir, what do you think about the pro-protes….”

Finrod glanced up at the Woman, his expression mildly bemused, but something in his eyes caused her to stutter to a stop and without realizing it, she withdrew the microphone, almost hugging it as if it were a lifeline, her face going pale. Glorfindel gave her a negligent glance.

“If you’re going to faint, Priscilla, there’s a nice fluffy snowbank over there.” He gestured to where a pile of snow hugged the wall to the left of the gates before turning his attention back to the police officers. Finrod gave the Woman a brief smile before turning to the three ministers.

“Thank you for your support, my friends. We have some hot cider for any who would care for something hot to drink before you go your way.”

“What I want to know is what was all that with the nails?” someone asked before anyone could respond to Finrod’s offer.

The Elves all chuckled. “Fool Mortals, believing the old tales about the denizens of Faerie being unable to touch iron,” Barahir said with a sneer. “They were attempting to keep us inside so they could blow us up. They failed to notice that the gates themselves are made of iron. We drive cars made mostly of iron and our weapons are made of iron.” He held up his sword. “And if they bothered to notice, we have two rowan trees planted on either side of the entrance. Rowan’s a plant that is supposed to ward off the Fae.” He shook his head. “Well, it’s been my experience that protestors in general and the superstitious in particular aren’t always the brightest stars in the night sky.”

As he was speaking, they could hear sirens in the distance. “Well, no sense standing around in the cold,” Glorfindel said, “but we think we had better not invite you inside until we know the place is safe. We’ll bring the cider out to you.”

“Do what you think best,” Josiah said. “Our work here is done for now, but I fear this is only the beginning.”

“Yes, unfortunately, I think you’re right,” Glorfindel allowed.

By now the sirens were louder and even as two ambulances, and several more squad cars and a fire truck came racing around the corner of Kodiak, two Men came stumbling around the wall to the right of the entrance, their eyes wide with terror, their faces almost as white as the surrounding snow. One of them saw the police and gave a muffled sob of relief.

“Save us!” he cried out. “The trees! The trees are attacking!” Both men practically fell into Slayton’s arms, cowering as he attempted to push them off him, muttering in disgust.

Everyone else looked around in bemusement, but as far as they could tell, the trees were not moving at all, for there wasn’t even a breeze to ruffle their limbs. Behind the two men sauntered Prince Legolas, dressed in winter white, a bow slung casually over his shoulder along with a quiver of arrows, two wicked looking white-handled knives on his belt. His expression was one of pure smugness. Glorfindel gave him a knowing look.

“Have fun?” he asked.

Legolas chuckled evilly. “Haven’t had this much fun since Gimli and I were wreaking havoc among the Haradrim on the Pelennor Fields. These Mortals make it so easy.” The disdain fairly dripped from his voice as he glared at the two hapless Men, both of them practically whimpering in fear, huddled against the police car. “The trees enjoyed themselves, too.”

This last was said so off-handedly that even some of the Elves missed its implications. Finrod snorted. “I’m sure they did. Ah, here is David.”

They all looked around to see Dave Michaelson climbing out of one of the cars and approaching them.

“Priscilla, turn that camera off now before I confiscate it and throw you and Harry both in the clink,” was the first thing out of his mouth.

“Aw, Chief… this is news. You can’t—”

“I can and I will,” Michaelson interrupted. “Kill the camera, Harry, if you know what’s good for you.”

Harry sighed and lowered the camera, giving Priscilla a shrug. Priscilla sighed. “The most exciting thing that’s happened in this stupid town and we can’t report it because, God forbid, the rest of the world ever learns the truth.”

“Sorry, Priscilla, but that’s just the way it is for now,” Michaelson said then turned his attention to the three Men still lying unconscious and the other two cowering in fear. He looked at Glorfindel who gave him a feral grin and Prince Legolas who just shrugged, his eyes cold. Michaelson sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Where are the protesters?”

“Gone,” Glorfindel answered. “This lot… er… scared them off with their superior numbers and acts of nonviolence. We Elves stayed firmly out of it. All I did was order a perimeter check and we found these guys planting explosives. Roy says there’s enough that the house could have sustained serious damage as well.”

Michaelson nodded and began issuing orders to the other police, all of them wearing flak jackets. They set off around the house, along with the firefighters, and Glorfindel ordered Beleg and Cennanion to go with them. All the while, some of the ellith were going through the crowd handing out plastic cups of cider which were gratefully accepted. Even Michaelson accepted a cup.

“Amroth’s place?” Finrod asked Michaelson. “Has no one thought to call them to see if they are well?”

“Carl Graff sent some of his deputies there,” Michaelson answered as he took a sip of the cider. “Last I heard, there had been no disturbances there, but we’re keeping an eye on the place just in case. Lopez, Slayton, book these guys. Everyone else, I suggest you go on home. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

“Thanks for coming on such short notice everyone,” Josiah said.

“Yes, thank you,” Glorfindel added. “We appreciate your support very much.”

With that, the Mortals began to disperse.

“Shall we?” Michaelson asked, gesturing toward the house, obviously wishing to speak with the Elves in private.

“By all means,” Glorfindel said as he and Finrod led the way to the front door with Michaelson between them. “Let us repair ourselves to the library. Helena, would you kindly refill Dave’s cup please?”

****

Deus vult: (Latin) ‘God wills it’. It was the battle cry of the First Crusade.

Notes:

1. Eärendil’s heraldic device shows a six-pointed star. You can view it  and other heraldic devices created by Tolkien at: www(dot)forodrim(dot)org/gobennas/heraldry/heraldry.

2. 10-89 means a bomb threat.





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