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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

98: Getting Reacquainted

The Elves settled within the pavilion, though those who were there as support personnel went about their duties, leaving the royals to themselves.

“You did not bring Nana?” Finrod asked Arafinwë as he took the chair offered to him by one of the servants, who handed him a glass of wine. He spoke in Sindarin, thus alerting everyone else that the conversation would be held in that language rather than the expected Quenya. The kings noticed, if no one else did, the almost relieved looks on the faces of the ap Hywels.

“Your nana and the other queens would have liked to come, as well as Ingwion and Sador, but the Belain would not permit it,” Ingwë answered instead, also in Sindarin. “In fact, it was they who determined who would come. None of us really had any say in the matter.”

Finrod nodded. “Just as well,” he said. “The situation here is… not very safe.” He lapsed into silence.

“Would you care to explain?” Arafinwë asked.

Before Finrod could say either yea or nay to that request, Turgon spoke. “First though, I would like to know who he is and why he speaks to us as he does.” He pointed to Vorondur, sitting with his wife and children.

“His name is Vorondur, and he was once of Nargothrond,” Finrod answered before Vorondur could reply, “though that is neither here nor there. Here, he is known as Ron Brightman and he is a healer of the mind and a very good one.”

“He threatened me,” Turgon said baldly.

“With every right to do so,” Glorfindel said. “Turgon, how long has it been since your release?”

Turgon gave him a surprised look. “I was re-embodied at the end of the Fourth Age.” He scowled then. “I could not believe I slept through two ages of the world and then spent another age in blissful ignorance running about Mandos before being reborn and everyone else had been reborn ages earlier.”

Glorfindel shrugged. “If you slept that long, you obviously needed it. I only asked because you seem to be responding to things here as if you were a recent Reborn.”

“You mean, he’s acting petulant and surly and above himself,” Galadriel said with a disdainful sniff. “He’s been like that since his release from Mandos.”

“Or more correctly, since his memories of his previous life began to return,” Celeborn added. “Before that, he was rather innocent.”

“I allowed Turgon to join us, with the Belain’s permission, because I believe that there is unfinished business between the two of you,” Arafinwë said, looking at Glorfindel. “Fingolfin agreed.”

“You are all speaking about me as if I were not here,” Turgon protested. “I do not appreciate it and you still haven’t answered my question concerning him.” He nodded to Vorondur. “You said you would be my worst nightmare. How? What can you possibly do?”

“I’ll let you answer that one, Ron,” Glorfindel said with a smile.

Vorondur smiled back. “Thanks,” he said then turned his attention to Turgon. “I have spoken with Vardamir about healing practices in Aman. He told me that there were not a few who suffered from what Mortals would refer to as mental illnesses, such as anxiety, distrust, even fear. He described how those illnesses were treated. I do something similar, but I was taught these methods by Mortals who have their own theories about how such treatments should go. I am afraid I learned from, shall we say, less gentle teachers.”

“You threatened me,” Turgon said.

Vorondur shook his head. “No, I did not. I never make threats, Turgon, only promises.”

“In some ways Ron is more dangerous than all of us put together,” Glorfindel said. “He is also a very good friend and a great asset. Most of us would not be here or functional without him. He has saved our sanity on more than one occasion in the last two years. Now, as for you and me, Turgon, I’m afraid we’ll have to table that discussion until later. Right now, our main focus is the wedding which is in two days.” He turned to Elrohir. “Everything ready?”

Elrohir nodded. “Yes, but we have the problem of not having taken into account all these people showing up. I do wish the Belain had warned us ahead of time so the caterers could plan properly.”

“Well, not everyone you invited will be attending the reception,” Daeron said, “but I know I told the caterers to plan for that many people. We can certainly squeeze everyone here in without a problem.”

“I just don’t care for the fact that we have to plan additional security,” Glorfindel said. “We have some prime potential hostages if the other side wants to take advantage of the situation.”

“Assuming the other side is aware and can make appropriate plans in time,” Finrod commented.

“They have two days,” Amroth pointed out. “More than enough time, believe me, and we must consider not only security for the wedding but afterwards for as long as you are all here. I am not sure how the good people of Wiseman are going to react to this. Even our allies may find your presence too much to handle. When Finrod and the others came, things were a bit rough at the beginning and we’re still dealing with the fallout. Adding all of you in the mix is just going to make things that much worse. I’m glad Alex will be at the wedding.”

“You think highly of him,” Ingwë said.

Amroth gave them a mirthless grin. “I trained him.”

“And he had a good teacher,” Glorfindel said with a nod, “though I know you never taught him the darker aspects of being an assassin.”

“No, that was the Agency’s doing after I left.” Amroth looked pensive and then shrugged. “Well, we can mourn for what was lost or we can rejoice that out of the darkness some good has come. Alex is very important to the Belain, not the least because he is a descendent of Beren and Lúthien through your brother, Elros, Elrond, as well as through your daughter.”

“Truly?” Elrond exclaimed.

Amroth and the others from Wiseman nodded. “It came as a surprise to us,” Finrod said, “but all the evidence is there and the Belain have confirmed it.”

Elrond’s expression became thoughtful and Celebrían squeezed his hand. He looked down at her and they shared a smile.

“Well, getting back to the wedding,” Vorondur said, “I, for one, am glad that Serindë’s brothers were allowed to come. It would have been nice if all our family were here, but I understand why they are not. I just wish you could stay.”

“Why can we not?” Dar asked. “Oh, I know the Belain said our visit was only temporary, at least this time, but what is to prevent any of us from staying if we do not wish to leave?”

“We can barely deal with those who are here as it is,” Glorfindel said. “Though, I’m wondering if some who came with Finrod would want to return with you. I suppose if that were the case we could make an even trade. Does anyone want to go back to Aman?” He looked around to where the Elves who came with Finrod were scattered about the pavilion.

“Lindorillë and I have just started working on the clothing store,” Erestor said. “Why would we go back?”

“And Paul Pettingill has arranged for us to meet with Harvey Lightfoot later in the month,” Haldir said. “We’ll be gone for about two weeks. We’re camping in the Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve while he teaches us about what the rangers do.”

“And we have signed up to take the civil service exam required of those who wish to be employed by the state and federal parks systems,” Thandir added, though he had to speak English, since Sindarin had no equivalent words. “Paul says he and his people will tutor us to make sure we pass. He says he has enough seniority in the system and enough clout to get us all hired.” He shrugged. “After he and others have gone to all that trouble, I would hate to disappoint him. He is depending on us for help. The Brooks Mountains are wide and the rangers are too few.”

“Also, none of us healers wish to give up our own goals to be certified to practice medicine here,” Vardamir said, also speaking English. “We’ve invested too much of ourselves already toward that goal.”

“You speak as if you are an apprentice,” Elrond said, though he spoke in Sindarin.

“In some ways, we are,” Vardamir replied reverting to Sindarin, “for the Mortals of this time have made many advancements in the healing arts and have even surpassed us in some ways. I fear some of us have had some harsh lessons brought home to us.” He stole a glance at Glorfindel, who merely nodded, the byplay noticed by all.

“It sounds as if you are all finding your way here,” Ingwë said after a moment, “though to hear the Belain speak I had the impression that all was not well with any of you.” He cast a knowing look at one or two of those originally from Valinor before turning his attention to Finrod. “You said the situation here is unsafe, but you have not yet explained why.”

“How much do any of you know about Wiseman and what has been happening since we came here?” Finrod asked.

“Little enough, I’m afraid,” Ingwë admitted. “The Belain have been… chary of their words to us concerning you. When we learned of the wedding, we decided we wished to attend. The Belain were less than pleased with the idea.”

“I can imagine,” Glorfindel said with a knowing grin.

“But we were… persistent,” Ingwë said with a wry look.

“I wonder if that was the slight problem Lords Oromë and Tulkas mentioned but never explained?” Daeron suggested.

“Could be,” Glorfindel allowed. “Well, to answer your original question, the Mortals here are moving into two camps, concerning the Elves here in Wiseman, with some opposed to our presence and others supporting us, though there appears to be a sizeable group which has remained neutral so far. That will not and cannot last. Right now, our biggest challenge is the upcoming election next week.”

“And what is this election?” Arafinwë asked.

“The people of Wiseman will be choosing their next mayor, the person who heads the town council, which is the town’s ruling body. Until now, Harry Whitman was the mayor and he is firmly on our side, but for personal reasons he has chosen not to seek re-election. Had he done so, more than likely he would have been chosen for another term, but now it is anyone’s guess as to who will win and one of the candidates is clearly anti-Elf.”

“I believe he is being manipulated by someone else,” Vorondur interjected, “someone who is feeding his prejudices. Dave called while you were in Fairbanks and told me that when he spoke to Peterson, he vehemently denied ordering anyone to blow us up.”

“Does Dave believe him?” Daeron asked.

“Yes, and so do I. It’s possible that Peterson said something that others construed as orders from on high, or at least took advantage of the opening Peterson inadvertently gave them. Peterson may not like us, but he is a believer in law and due process and he was, I think, as appalled as any when he learned what happened.”

“Yet, how can you be sure?” Finrod asked.

“How can I be sure of anything, Finrod? How can any of us?” came the retort. “But I’ve been watching Peterson since your court. He’s an arrogant ass and a bigot but he’s no murderer. He’s not above slinging verbal mud at opponents, but that’s all he will do.”

“Yet his words have proven dangerous,” Finrod pointed out, “else we would not have had the incident with the protestors.”

“True, and perhaps he will be less free with his words after this, or the authorities may think he actually is behind all the threats,” Vorondur allowed. “In the meantime, we need to practice vigilance and caution. My suggestion, and it is only that, is that if any of you wish to leave the encampment and see something of Wiseman, you do it only in small groups of no more than three or four plus a suitable escort of Maiar. Between the wedding and the election—”

“Not to mention that there is a full moon this weekend,” Daeron interjected.

Vorondur nodded. “Between all that, emotions will be high among the Mortals, so we must be careful in word and deed.”

“How dangerous can these people be?” Olwë asked, entering the conversation for the first time, “and what does the full moon have to do with anything?”

“None of you have ever witnessed a pogrom,” Vorondur said softly, not looking at anyone in particular, speaking in English. The grim and almost haunted looks on the faces of the Wiseman Elves did not escape the notice of any of the Valinórean Elves.

“And the full moon syndrome is… rather difficult to explain in a sentence or two,” Daeron added, also in English, “but just accept that it can be a dangerous time for anyone, Elf or Mortal, as more crimes are generally committed during the three days of the full moon than at any other time.”

“And this…pogrom?” Ingwë asked, and since he asked the question in English, it alerted everyone that the rest of the conversation would be in that language, for he was the highest ranking of them all and he set the tone.

“Ingwë, we who never Sailed have witnessed both the very best and the very worst aspects of the Mortals throughout the ages,” Glorfindel said quietly. “That being said, it is rather hard to be pointing fingers or throwing stones when we Elves are not able to claim to be guiltless of our own perfidies and treacheries.”

After a brief moment of silence, Ingwë spoke, addressing himself to Finrod. “It seems that the Valar have sent you into danger without adequate preparation.”

“It would seem that way,” Finrod averred, “but in truth, nothing would have prepared us for the realities of this time and place. The majority of the Mortals are law-abiding citizens who treat us with respect and we have slowly won their allegiance and have gained unexpected allies, but we are fighting a war and in war there are always two sides. We cannot expect all Mortals to join our side. That is unrealistic.”

“All we can hope to do is to convince those Mortals who have yet to declare their allegiance to us or to the Enemy to choose to join us,” Elladan said, speaking for the first time. “The incident with the bomb probably helped us more than the Enemy intended.”

“What is this… bomb?” Arafinwë asked.

“It is a device for blowing things or people up,” Glorfindel answered and there were startled murmurs of dismay among the newcomers. “There was an incident recently and someone attempted to blow up Edhellond with us in it. The attempt failed rather spectacularly, thanks in part to our Mortal friends as well as to Daeron who figured out what was going on before the rest of us.”

The royals all glanced at the Sindarin loremaster, who blushed slightly under their regard.

“How did you find each other?” Galadriel suddenly asked.

“Now that’s a very long story,” Glorfindel said with a grin. “We will save it for later, shall we? Right now, we’ve got more important things to consider.” He suddenly pointed a finger at Gareth and Nielluin. “Okay, you two, let’s see some daylight between you. You’re sitting way too close to one another.”

Everyone looked to where Glorfindel was pointing. Nielluin looked slightly guilty, as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Gareth just looked faintly amused. “Excuse me?” he said, feigning affront. “Who died and left you in charge of the universe? We weren’t doing anything wrong, Loren, so back off.”

“You should not speak to Lord Glorfindel that way, my son,” Tristan said. “Show some respect for your elders.” He then turned to Glorfindel with a smile. “We’re a bit old-fashioned, aren’t we? I’m sure these two were not doing anything they shouldn’t, not in full view of everyone.”

“Especially not where their parents could see,” Celeborn said, grinning, “never mind anyone else.”

“Besides, I was right here keeping watch,” Gwyn said with a sniff.

“Sure you were,” Glorfindel said amiably. “You must have eyes in the back of your head, though, because you’ve been spending most of the time gazing at Misty. Is there something you two would like to share with the rest of us?”

“No,” Mithrellas said primly, “and it’s no one’s business but our own.”

“Fine. Just let us know if Darren needs to order rose petals for the bridal bower.” There were soft titters from among the Wiseman Elves and a few of the Valinórean Elves who had come with Finrod.

“Speaking of which,” Vorondur said, turning to Elrohir, “where are you spending the wedding night? No one’s said.”

“We’ve arranged for a room at the Goldmine Inn,” Elrohir answered.

“You two going on a honeymoon?” Glorfindel asked.

“What is a honey… moon?” Celebrían asked, looking confused.

“A period of time, usually about a week, after the wedding where the newly married couple spends time alone away from family and friends,” Daeron answered.

“Well, we’re going but not immediately,” Elrohir said. “I need to prepare for the boards at any rate and then we need to get ready to go back east. While Dan’s finding us a suitable place to live in New York City, we’re going to take a week in the Adirondacks, spend some time in the High Peaks district. For now, though, we’re just going to spend a couple of days in Chandalar. We’ll be back on Tuesday for the election.”

Before anyone could comment, they were startled by the sound of a variety of different bell tones going off all at once. Every healer started fishing for their phones, but Elladan got to his first and held up his hand to forestall everyone else as he pressed the ‘send’ button. “This is Dan Ronaldson,” he said crisply. “What’s up?” They all saw his expression darkening. “Right. We’ll be there shortly.” He pressed ‘end’ and stood up. “Sorry, but there’s been a major accident involving a school bus. We need to get over to the hospital. They’re calling everyone in.”

“I thought I was hearing sirens in the distance,” Glorfindel said.

“Oh dear, I hope the children aren’t badly hurt,” Nimrodel said sadly and the others looked equally distraught.

“I only know that there are multiple injuries,” Elladan said. “Hopefully most of them will be minor.”

“We can only hope,” Glorfindel said.

“What is a school bus?” Ingwë asked.

“A vehicle used to transport children to and from their place of learning,” Daeron answered soberly. “This time of day, the children would be returning home.”

“Why did the horses not rear or something to prevent the collision?” Amarië asked.

All the Wiseman Elves, including those who had come with Finrod, just shook their heads at the question. “I will explain later, my love,” Finrod said with an indulgent smile. Then he turned to Elladan. “Is there a way to learn if the children of any of our friends were on the bus?”

“The police will be on hand to begin identifying the children and it will be on the news.”

“I can go over to Edhellond and check it out later,” Daeron offered. “There won’t be any real news at the moment.”

“Yes, do that,” Glorfindel said, “Dan, when you’re done, call us whatever the hour and we’ll come pick you up. I don’t want any of you walking back to Edhellond afterwards; it’ll be dark and you’ll be exhausted.”

“Will do,” Elladan said, then he turned to Elrond. “Would you join us, Adar? I think we will need all the healers we can get.”

Elrond looked up in surprise. “I do not know if it will be permitted.”

“Go, Elrond,” Olórin said and nearly everyone jumped, having forgotten the Maia’s presence. “Elladan is correct. All the healers will be needed.”

Elrond stood, looking down at Celebrían, who smiled up at him, then turned to his eldest son. “Thank you. I would like that.”

“Best remove your outer garments, though,” Olórin said. “You’ll blend in better.” Elrond nodded and removed the overrobe and tunic he was wearing, handing them to Celebrían, so he was standing in a finely embroidered shirt and trews tucked into calf-high soft leather boots.

“We’ll go the back way and pick up Sycamore,” Elladan said to Elrond. “It will be the quickest way. If you will excuse us?” He gave the three kings and the assembly a brief bow as did the other healers and then they were gone, running silently between the pavilions towards the bleachers, disappearing from view.

For a time, no one else spoke, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Finally, Ingwë stirred, glancing at Glorfindel. “Will you arrange for us to visit the town tomorrow?”

“We can do that,” Glorfindel answered. “We will meet here after you have broken your fast. I have a meeting scheduled at eleven that I can’t get out of, I’m afraid, so I will not be able to stay with you the whole time, but others will be on hand.”

“I, too, will not be available,” Vorondur said. “I have a couple of appointments in the morning and then there’s Alex in the afternoon.”

“What do you mean, Adar?” Dar asked.

“I counsel Mortals who are having problems,” Vorondur replied, “and I help out at the college with students who are in need of mentoring. Oh, by the way, Loren, while you were in Fairbanks, I got a call from Hannah Bains, the head of the psych department. Dan Kelly’s contract with the college will not be renewed.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it seems that a number of students in Nell’s class went to Hannah and told her what Kelly said to her and the upshot is that Kelly is no longer teaching, though he will continue to draw a salary for the remainder of the term, which will only last another couple of weeks anyway. One of the other professors is taking over Kelly’s classes for the remainder of the term. Hannah says that she will not tolerate that kind of bigotry in her department.”

“Well, I’m sorry that it came to that,” Glorfindel said, glancing at Nielluin.

“I had no idea,” she said, looking embarrassed. “Dr. Bains called me into her office and told me what had been decided. I was shocked. I do not care for Professor Kelly, few of the students in my certificate program do, but I do not like to think that I am the cause of his being dismissed.”

“You are not,” Vorondur said firmly. “Dan Kelly is responsible for his own fall from grace. You did nothing wrong, Niellluin.”

Galadriel frowned at her daughter but directed her question to Vorondur. “What happened?”

“Words were said by a Mortal that were hurtful,” Vorondur explained, “but it is not something you need to concern yourself with as the matter has been resolved. Nielluin is fine and has integrated herself very well into this society, as have Findalaurë, Calandil and Elennen.”

“Nielluin says she is studying to be a child caregiver,” Celeborn said then, casting a fond smile upon his youngest daughter. “From what little she has told us, I take it that it is considered honorable work, though it sounds something like being a nanny.”

“Except she will be employed through an agency and will work with other caregivers to provide a safe environment for any number of children,” Glorfindel answered before Vorondur could reply. “It involves a great deal of trust on the part of parents and caregivers, for the parents are entrusting the health, safety and well-being of their child to another while they are at work. It is a grave responsibility, but Nielluin is well capable of handling it.”

“We are very pleased with her endeavors,” Finrod added, smiling at the elleth, who blushed.

“So anyway,” Vorondur interjected, speaking mainly to Glorfindel, “the upshot of Kelly being fired is that Hannah would like me to come on board and start teaching in the fall.”

“That’s great,” Glorfindel said. Then noticing Vorondur’s pensive expression, he added, “Isn’t it?”

Vorondur shrugged. “I have been willing to help Max and Sunny out when they’ve needed an extra counsellor but I’ve only just gotten my private practice going again and if I have to add teaching duties, I’m not going to be much help to you at the Academy.”

“That’s not a problem for me unless it’s a problem for you,” Glorfindel said. “We certainly won’t be shorthanded, so do what you think is best. I don’t know Hannah all that well, but she’s solid and if she thinks you will be an asset to her department, then all I can say is go for it.”

“Thank you,” Vorondur said. “I told Hannah I would discuss it with you and let her know by the end of next week.”

“Well, congratulations, then,” Glorfindel said. “I’m sure you’ll be a hit with the students.”

Just then, one of the servants came into the pavilion to announce that dinner was ready.

“Shall we?” Ingwë said, standing, and everyone followed suit, moving out of the pavilion toward a series of picnic tables that Olórin admitted had been ‘borrowed’ from one of the parks.

“We’ll put everything back where we found it,” he promised, giving them a smile and then made his excuses, saying he was needed elsewhere. He walked away, fading into the fabric of the universe, leaving the Elves to themselves.

As they moved toward the picnic tables, Ingwë said, “I think while we are at sup you should begin at the beginning and tell us everything that has happened here in Wiseman.”

“From the beginning?” Glorfindel asked.

“Yes,” Ingwë replied. “I am curious to know just how you came to be here and how you ended up running this Elf Academy.”

Glorfindel sighed, running a hand through his hair and giving Finrod a rueful look. Finrod smiled sympathetically as they all found seats. “Well, I suppose you could blame Daeron for all this,” he said.

“Hey!” Daeron protested. “All I did was to find the website. How was I to know the Valar were behind it all?”

Glorfindel grinned and the Wiseman Elves snickered. “Yes, well, anyway, Daeron and I were sharing a residence with Elrond’s sons, along with Nimrodel and Mithrellas, when we all lost our jobs more or less at the same time and then Daeron found out about Elf Academy and….”

The night blossomed as Glorfindel told his story while they enjoyed their repast. It was some time before he finished bringing the newcomers up to date on what was happening in the Mortal world.





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