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Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

119: Summit Meeting

It was another hour or so before the Elves were done with breakfast and decided to return to Edhellond to watch the newscast and check up on Daeron. When they started to leave, though, Mánatamir, still on gate duty, told them that it would be wiser to cut across the field and return through the back postern door.

“There’s a bit of a crowd out front of the mansion that you may wish to avoid at this time,” he told them.

“What are they doing?” Glorfindel asked with a frown.

“You’ll have to see for yourself,” the Maia replied with a grin, “but I assure you that you are not in any danger from them.”

Glorfindel nodded and led the way, the Elves skirting the back yards of some houses until they reached the field that separated the mansion from the woods. Glorfindel was unsurprised to find the postern door locked. When he called out, though, it opened readily enough to reveal Haldir there, armed with his bow.

“We figured you might come this way when you saw the crowd out front,” he said as he stepped back to allow them ingress.

“Actually, Mánatamir warned us,” Glorfindel told him. “What’s going on?”

Haldir closed and locked the door before answering. “They just started showing up in ones and twos. Some stayed long enough to leave some token and others have remained. They aren’t even at the gate but standing on the other side of the street. They appear to be waiting, but for what or for whom, I cannot say. Erestor has taken charge of security. We have people stationed all around just to be on the safe side.”

“Good,” Glorfindel said. “Some of us will relieve you in a bit. Let’s go see what this is all about.” With that he and the others continued through the garden and into the house via the kitchen where they found Helyanwë, Melyanna and Lindorillë being supervised by Eirien and Mithrellas as the ellith put together a couple trays of sandwiches and light snacks.

“What’s all this?” Glorfindel demanded, the ellith looking up at their entrance.

Mithrellas was the one to answer, saying, “Some of these will go to the ellyn on guard duty and the rest will go to the people standing outside.”

“Oh? And why are we feeding the huddled masses?” Glorfindel asked with a smile on his lips.

“They looked hungry,” Mithrellas retorted with a shrug.

Glorfindel just nodded. “How is Daeron?” he asked.

“Vardamir brought him out of healing sleep a while ago long enough to get some broth down him and to see to his personal needs before sending him back to sleep. He was weak but lucid and, in fact, he was very anxious, wondering if King Olwë was alive. We assured him that His Majesty had taken no hurt and he settled down after that.”

“I will go sit with him,” Olwë said and no one disputed his right to do so as he went up the back stairs.

“So anyway,” Mithrellas continued, “about a half an hour after that newscast people started showing up. No one thought much about it at first. People came to the gate, placed some trinket on the ground and left, but then a few remained, just standing quietly, not doing anything in particular. A police car came rolling by and the officers stopped and spoke with them then left, but the bystanders moved across the street. Now, more people are standing around, but we don’t know what they are doing. Daisy thought we might as well offer them our hospitality, thus the sandwiches.”

“I think I need to see that newscast,” Glorfindel said.

“Gil taped it for you,” Mithrellas said. “It’s… interesting on many levels.”

Glorfindel nodded and gestured for everyone else to follow him out of the kitchen, down the hall to the foyer, then taking another hallway to the media room. It was empty, though the TV was on, still showing the news. Glorfindel picked up the remote and in moments they were watching the tape, where Dean Chambers was describing the events of the night before.

“… disturbances at both Edhellond and Elf Academy. We go now to Priscilla Parker. Priscilla.”

The image shifted to Priscilla standing before the police station. Behind her were several police officers bringing a number of people inside, most of them attempting to hide their faces from the camera as Priscilla was speaking.

“Dean, I’m standing outside the Wiseman police station, which is a scene of great drama as several residents are being brought in for questioning about an incident that occurred last night at Edhellond. Sources say that as nearly as fifty people attempted to attack the residence of the mansion but were thwarted.”

At that, the image changed again and they watched with interest at what was obviously an amateur video from someone’s phone showing the Mortals confronting the Elves. In spite of the darkness, Glorfindel was recognizable, as were a few others. There was no sound, but suddenly they watched as the Elves started to run and then everything went white for a second and they saw the Maiar with Eönwë clearly in view. And all the while, Priscilla was giving a running commentary.

“… when someone in the crowd started shooting and then, as you can see, warrior angels, also called Maiar, appeared. We don’t have the names of any of them, except for the one speaking whom we know is Eönwë, Herald of the Elder King, who appeared with Lord Námo at King Finrod’s court last November.”

The video continued to show Eönwë directing the Mortals to lay down their weapons and then they watched again as the same weapons were transformed into the statue.

“At this point,” Priscilla was continuing her narrative, “it was learned that Lord Daeron, known to all as Darren Harper, had been struck by one of the bullets while attempting to protect King Olwë of the Lindar. The bullet proved to be almost fatal except for the intervention of King Finrod, also known as Quinn O’Brien, and, surprisingly, Lord Námo, whom some know as Nate.”

Now Námo appeared and the video focused on Finrod kneeling over Daeron. In spite of the fact that there was no sound, they could see him singing and saw the power of his Song being manifested as a silver glow that hovered over Daeron’s supine form.

“It appears that what we are witnessing is known as a Song of Power,” Priscilla said. “Our sources say that King Finrod caused the bullet that lay close to Lord Daeron’s heart to disintegrate by the power of his Song. This is clearly a manifestation of the power of the Eldar that no Mortal can duplicate. We have been told that not all Elves utilize this power but that all have it to one degree or another.”

The video came to an end and they saw Priscilla still standing before the police station.

“And Lord Daeron?” Dean asked her.

“At last report he is resting comfortably,” Priscilla answered.

“And those who were attacking Edhellond?” Dean enquired.

“Sources say that Chief Michaelson received a list of names of those involved. There is no confirmation as to who gave him the list, only that in the last hour or so, police have been sent out to bring people in, mostly for questioning. So far there have been no arrests.”

“At least not for this incident,” Dean said as the camera shifted back to him. He addressed the audience. “Elf Academy was also the object of an attack as about a dozen people attempted to blow it up. According to eyewitness reports by police who were on the scene, Maiar again appeared and thwarted the attempt, aiding the police in capturing the suspects. It has been learned that the ultimate plan of both groups was to meet at the encampment where visitors from Valinor reside with the intention of killing any who happened to be there. We of KWTV are only thankful that neither attempt was successful and our prayers and good wishes go out to Lord Daeron for a speedy and full recovery. Next up, the weather.”

Glorfindel turned off the tape and for the longest time they were all silent.

“It is interesting that the reporters were careful to give everyone their proper titles,” Vorondur finally said musingly.

“And you think it significant?” Ingwë asked.

“Oh, yes,” Vorondur said. “For one thing it sends a message to those who were watching.”

“What message could the use of titles convey?” Elrond asked in puzzlement. “It would have been rude and incorrect not to use them.”

“That’s just the point, Ada,” Elladan said. “These are Americans who eschewed titles for themselves, and I noticed that Priscilla was careful to give people’s elvish names first before their mortal names. Usually, she never bothers, simply using our mortal names when speaking about any of us.”

“Yes, that is what I meant,” Vorondur said. “For either Priscilla or Dean to emphasize our actual names rather than the names by which we are known publically is completely out of character and even, I would say, against custom. A message is being given and I think Chris Norton is behind it. He has ever been a staunch ally though he is careful in making sure KWTV itself remains neutral and equable to both sides when reporting the news. But apparently, last night’s incidents went too far, even for him, and so we have Priscilla and Dean using our actual names and titles, thereby publically supporting us. That clearly is a message aimed at the opposition.”

“So you see, Uncle,” Finrod said, addressing Ingwë, “we do have allies among the Mortals and we are honor-bound to treat with them accordingly.”

“Yes, I see that now. So what exactly are these people doing outside the gates?”

“Why don’t we go see?” Glorfindel suggested and they all trooped out of the room, down the hall and outside, making their way to the gates, which they found strewn with a variety of objects, including flowers, yellow ribbons and even a couple of small teddy bears. There was even a sign that read No Le Mai Breged, Hîr Daeron drawn in red crayon and surprisingly in tengwar script. Some flowers, butterflies and what they thought was a cat, though it could well have been just about any animal, decorated the borders of the sign.

Glorfindel gave the kings a significant look before he crossed the street where the ellith were already mingling with the Mortals, handing out the sandwiches and cups of what appeared to be lemonade. “So to what do we owe the pleasure?” he said with a smile to assure the Mortals of his good intentions.

“We just wanted to show our support,” one of the Men said, munching on a cheese and tomato sandwich while holding a cup of lemonade.

“Nice sign,” Vorondur said. “I’m sure Lord Daeron will appreciate it.”

“My kids did it,” a Woman admitted shyly. “When they heard about what happened, they got all upset. It seems that Darren, I mean, Lord Daeron has visited the school a few times, entertaining the students with songs and poems and telling them stories, which they just love. Hope we got the words right. My kids are better at the Sindarin than I am. They made the sign before going to school. I promised them I would bring it here.”

“It’s perfect,” Glorfindel assured her. “Please thank your children for their kindness. But really, you all must have jobs to go to. You should not remain here. I promise that we are all very grateful for your support. Daeron is weak, but he is alive and will recover soon enough.”

“Can’t believe anyone would attack you, though,” another Man said with a shake of his head. “I mean, blowing things up, or trying to? Where do these idiots think we live? Chechnya or Iraq?”

“What makes it worse is that they’re our neighbors,” the Woman whose children had made the get well sign added. “I know some of those who’ve been arrested. You think you know people but apparently you never really do. It makes me ashamed to be human.”

“You probably don’t even want anything to do with us anymore,” the first Man said ruefully.

“That’s not true,” Glorfindel assured him. “In fact, we were discussing earlier the need to hold a summit meeting with our new mayor and town council and the other movers and shakers of Wiseman before Their Majesties and their entourage return to Valinor.”

That was stretching the truth a bit, but he doubted any of the other Elves would try to set the Mortals straight on the subject.

“Really?” the Man asked, casting a guarded look at the kings. Others were doing the same.

Ingwë nodded. “It is one reason we are here beyond attending the wedding.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” the Man said with a smile and the other Mortals nodded.

“In the meantime, I think you should all get on to your jobs before you get fired,” Glorfindel said.

“Which reminds me,” Finrod said suddenly, pulling out his phone. “I forgot to call Nick and tell him I would be late getting in. I hope he doesn’t fire me over this. I’m just beginning to get the hang of it.”

They all watched with various degrees of amusement as Finrod began speaking into the phone. “Hello, Nick, it’s Quinn. Sorry, with everything that’s been going on, I completely forgot… Oh, um… Okay… Thanks… I’ll be in tomorrow then.” He shut down the phone and gave them a shy look. “He’s closed the store for the day. Said we all needed a holiday.”

Some of the Elves chuckled and even the Mortals sniggered. “Ain’t that the truth!” one of them declared.

“Well, I think you should all get on your way,” Glorfindel said. “Thank you again for your show of support. We appreciate it more than words can adequately express.”

There were some murmured ‘thank-yous’ from the Mortals and then they began leaving, getting into their cars and driving off, leaving the Elves to themselves. Glorfindel looked at Ingwë. “I’m going to call Robert Locke’s campaign office and tender him our congratulations on becoming mayor and I’ll start setting up the meeting for Saturday, if that meets with your approval.”

Ingwë nodded. “Yes, it does. Thank you.”

“Well, let’s go back inside,” Glorfindel suggested and soon they were back inside the mansion. Glorfindel excused himself to make phone calls, leaving everyone else to their own devices.

****

The rest of the week went by calmly enough. People still drove by Edhellond on occasion, leaving small mementos on the gates or along the wall. Other signs and cards appeared, most of them wishing Daeron a speedy recovery, others signifying support of the Elves. The police came by on Wednesday to take people’s statements. Kenneth Talbot spoke with Glorfindel who, after consultation with Finrod and the kings, agreed that depositions could be taken of those from Valinor who had been witnesses to the events at Edhellond, with the understanding that the said witnesses would not be able to be recalled if and when trials were ordered.

Daeron was brought out of healing sleep for good on Thursday, though he spent much of the time sleeping naturally, waking long enough to be fed before slipping back into sleep, but by Friday evening he was able to stay awake for a good hour or so and Glorfindel and Finrod sat with him, bringing him up to date on all that had happened.

“I don’t think I’ll be strong enough to sit in on the meeting tomorrow,” Daeron told them.

“I would be surprised if you were,” Glorfindel said with a gentle smile. “Though I do expect you to be up and about by Sunday to make us breakfast.”

“Yeah, right,” Daeron muttered and both Glorfindel and Finrod laughed.

Finrod leaned over from where he was sitting and squeezed Daeron’s arm. “You take as long as you need to recover your strength, my friend. Glorfindel and I depend on your wisdom and humor to help us run this madhouse, but I imagine you can help from here as well as anywhere.”

“Finrod’s right, Darren,” Glorfindel said in all seriousness. “You just concentrate on yourself for once and let us worry about everyone and everything else. We’ll keep you informed of what happens at the meeting, so if you have any pertinent ideas you can let us know. This is just the first meeting anyway. Ingwë thinks that at least a second meeting should be held before they leave, maybe Monday or Tuesday evening. He wanted to meet on Sunday but I had to explain to him about Mother’s Day.”

“Well, maybe I’ll be strong enough to attend the next meeting,” Daeron said. He closed his eyes and sighed, shifting his body slightly to a more comfortable position. A minute or two went by and when he did not open his eyes again, Glorfindel realized the loremaster had fallen asleep. He exchanged a knowing glance with Finrod who stood up and, leaning over, gave the ellon a kiss on the forehead in benediction. Glorfindel also stood, brushing a hand through Daeron’s hair, giving him a fond look while Finrod rearranged the bedcovers. Then the two left, turning out the light.

Daeron never stirred.

****

The summit meeting was scheduled for nine o’clock on Saturday at Edhellond.

“Our usual time for council meetings,” Glorfindel explained to those from Valinor.

Beside the three High Kings and Turgon, Celeborn, Galadriel and Elrond also attended. Among the Elves of Wiseman, Glorfindel, Finrod, Valandur, Vorondur and Amroth joined them, as did Gwyn and Gareth. Tristan and Iseult had left the day before with Andy and Anne, all of them needing to catch planes, all of them promising to keep in touch with one another.

The Mortals were represented by Harry Whitman and Robert Locke as the out-going and in-coming mayors, along with Dave Michaelson, representing law enforcement, and Judge Harrison representing the legal system; Laura Chapman, who was the manager of the Goldmine Inn and one of the wealthiest residents in Wiseman representing the local business community, and Josiah Makepeace, representing the clergy, at least those who sided with the Elves; Marion Goodfellow, as the first administrator of Elf Academy acting as a representative of the education system, Paul Pettingill, representing the Rangers, and Amanda Taylor, assistant manager of Mt. Horace Holiday Resort and representing the resorts and tour companies which hired the students from Elf Academy. Kyle Stoner was also present, representing the medical profession and he insisted on checking on Daeron and consulting with Vardamir before joining them at the conference table. Alex and Derek were there as a matter of course.

Not everyone could fit at the table, so they settled for having Glorfindel and Finrod sitting at one end with Whitman and Locke at the other end. The three kings and Celeborn sat on one side, while Dave, Alex, Josiah and Judge Harrison sat across from them. Everyone else sat in the chairs behind them. Carafes of water were placed on the table as well as on the sideboard.

After a brief consultation, it was decided to conduct the meeting in English, recognizing that some of the Mortals had only a basic understanding of Sindarin or Quenya, while those come from Valinor were sufficiently proficient in English for it not to be a problem. Valandur did offer to act as an unofficial interpreter should any of the Valinóreans need clarification and everyone agreed to this.

The Valinóreans, on Finrod’s advice, had eschewed wearing any symbols of their rank and were dressed plainly, the ellyn wearing their hair in single braids and held back by thin bands of metal while Galadriel wore her hair loose, a wreath of daisies on her head. She had even exchanged her usual dress for the one she had worn to dinner at the café. The Mortals, for the most part, were wearing casual dress appropriate for the weekend. Dave, in fact, was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that read Wiseman Wolves with a graphic of a cartoon wolf and a soccer ball.

“My girls are playing soccer at one,” he explained when Glorfindel enquired. “I’m coaching and I won’t have time to go home and change, so….” He spread his hands out and shrugged.

“Well hopefully we’ll be done before that,” Glorfindel said with a smile, “but if you have to leave, do so, and that goes for anyone else. We know you all have your own lives and this isn’t our usual Saturday morning meeting.”

“Especially with royalty,” Alex said with a grin.

“And what am I? Chop liver?” Finrod demanded with a lift of an eyebrow.

“Not to mention me,” Amroth added with a grin.

Alex grinned back. “Why, you good sir, are Quinn O’Brien,” he said, nodding at Finrod, then looked at Amroth, “and you are my former instructor in fifty ways to kill your enemy.”

“Only fifty?” Derek quipped. “Sheesh, I bet I can come up with a good hundred ways, most of them having to do with bar crawls.”

Alex laughed and several of the Mortals grinned, a couple softly commenting to their neighbors. “Yeah, but these are the fifty best ways.”

“Okay, enough,” Glorfindel said with a huff of annoyance. “Let’s stay on task, shall we?”

“Stay calm, Loren,” Vorondur said. “Alex, there is a time for levity and this isn’t it.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Alex muttered, glaring at the table.

Turgon leaned over the table as if to speak confidentially with Alex who was sitting opposite him, giving him a smile. “I hate meetings, too. Why do you think I had Glorfindel on my privy council? I could always count on him to… um… liven things up.”

“Oh for the love of…” Glorfindel muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Which is why I have you sit in on my privy council meetings, Nephew,” Arafinwë said with a knowing smile, “just for that same reason.”

“Oh, busted!” Derek said with a laugh while Turgon blushed.

“Shall we move on?” Ingwë then asked, and everyone settled down, becoming more sober in their manner. Alex noticed, though, that several of the Elves were exchanging amused smiles before giving their attention to the High King.

At Ingwë’s command, Glorfindel took a few moments for introductions, being careful to explain to the kings the role each Mortal played within the community at large. Once introductions were made, he turned the meeting over to Ingwë.

“I called for this gathering because I wished to meet with the leaders of your community, to discuss certain matters pertaining to the Dagor Dagorath and coordinate training and tactics,” the High King said, frowning slightly. “Frankly, I expected to be sitting down with your warlords and not with… merchants and members of your judiciary.” The Mortals and not a few of the Wiseman Elves stirred at that.

“Warlords, is it?” Judge Harrison enquired mildly, shaking his head. “My dear sir, if you’re looking for warlords, you’re in the wrong part of the world. There are no warlords here. What you will find are people, like Ranger Pettingill and Mr. Lowell, who are former military, not to mention Mr. Grant’s shall we say more shadowy background. I myself did two tours in Nam once upon a time. As for merchants, I wouldn’t dismiss them out of hand. Economics runs this world more than anything and the merchants, as you call them, have more power than is sometimes good for them.”

“You’re talking about the wheelers and dealers on Wall Street, though, Judge,” Amanda Taylor interjected. “I and my fellows in business are just trying to make a living.”

“Perhaps,” Harrison allowed, “but without you this part of Alaska would still be a wilderness. You and your fellows saw the possibilities of economic development, canvasing Juneau to build a community college and setting up the various lodges and resorts, and so Wiseman and the surrounding communities have grown and flourished, especially with the advent of the internet. Do not dismiss yourselves too lightly, my dear.” He turned back to Ingwë.

“As for the judiciary, well, you can thank your lucky stars that this is a country where the rule of law reigns, where people have clearly stated rights as well as obligations, where one is innocent until proven guilty and not the other way around, which, if I’m not mistaken, is how your culture operates.” He gave the kings a shrewd look.

“We do have laws, sir,” Olwë commented coldly.

“Yes, I’m sure you do, but my point here is that had your people settled in some other country where there is no real rule of law, you might not have survived your encounter of the other night because whatever passes for the law there would have sat back and allowed mischief and mayhem to run wild and the Maiar be damned.”

Several eyebrows went up at that and Harrison gave them a sour smile. “I and my fellow judges have spent the better part of three days dealing with the arraignments of those whom the police have arrested on suspicion of attempted assault, arson and murder. Some of those people I even know. You leave us with an unholy mess, sir, but that’s fine. We’ll deal with it.”

“And how will you deal with it?” Ingwë asked. “You say that your system believes that a person is innocent and has to be proven guilty. It seems obvious to me that these people are guilty. The only question remaining is what punishment to give them.”

“And possibly that system works for you, but not for us,” Harrison said. “Those involved in the incidents of the other night will be tried before a jury of their peers who will decide guilt or innocence. Those found guilty will most likely serve jail time or be fined or both. Since no one died, we aren’t looking at murder-one, which charge cannot be safely ignored or swept under the rug.”

At which point, Glorfindel spoke up. “Ingwë, whether you like it or not, these people are it. These are the ones with whom we are coordinating to prepare the other Mortals for the Dagor Dagorath, whenever that event happens. Personally, I wish we had a warlord or three in the mix, but we don’t, but we of Wiseman are willing to train people and, indeed, have already begun to, as Gwyn and Gareth can testify. We do not know if there are other Elves out there doing what we’re doing in remote places of the world. The Valar in their not-so-infinite wisdom have declined to illuminate us on that subject, so we have to work under the assumption that we are it. We are the front line. For better or for worse, we’re all that stands between the rest of humanity and chaos and utter destruction. So, instead of complaining about who’s sitting at the table this morning, why don’t we just concentrate on what we can do on both sides of the dimensional divide to improve our situation for the benefit of all.”

“Well said, yonya,” Arafinwë declared, giving Glorfindel a look of approval. “I keep telling you, Ingwë, that you need to give these people the benefit of a doubt. They are not useless. Their ancestors fought and died beside us in the War of Wrath, and like Alex said the other day, they had more to lose than we, yet they were willing to sacrifice themselves if it meant that the world was finally free of Morgoth, even if they did not live to see that blessed day. The same holds true here.”

Ingwë nodded. “You are correct and I apologize if anything I have said has offended anyone. My expectations, I fear, may have been too unrealistic, for what I know of Mortals is based solely on the tales I have heard about you, and of course, those tales are old and perhaps a bit out of date.” He gave them a sly smile.

Alex and Derek both snorted in good humor. “That’s putting it mildly,” Derek said from where he was sitting and several of the other Mortals nodded in agreement.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared that up,” Finrod said briskly, “shall we get on with it?”

Ingwë nodded. “Yes, let us, as you say, Nephew, get on with it. Firstly, let me describe our own training regime so we have a basis for comparison. As when we were preparing for the War of Wrath, we set up a series of training camps throughout Aman and….”

****

No Le Mai Breged, Hîr Daeron: (Sindarin) ‘Get Well Soon, Lord Daeron’, literally ‘Be Thou Well Suddenly’; _mai_, however, is Quenya; the correct Sindarin would be _mae_ with the same pronunciation.





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