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Elf Academy 4 - The Unfinished Tales  by Fiondil

For a long moment, no one moved or spoke, most of them staring at the space where Raguel had been, trying to come to terms with what had just occurred. Glorfindel looked at Alex and then at Námo, his expression thoughtful.

“Why didn’t you just show up and tell us?” he finally asked.

“And would you have believed me?” Námo rejoined mildly. “Would any of you?” He gazed at Alex who turned away, biting his lips, his hands clenched at his sides. Námo just nodded as if he’d expected no less from him. “For what it’s worth, I thought long and hard about what I would ask of you Alex, knowing as I did the consequences for you. Believe me, I wished there had been another way but you saw them. You saw how they reacted just to your presence. That demonstration you gave them has set them on their ears. They haven’t stopped shouting since.”

“And will it do any good?” Alex asked, not looking at the Vala.

“I do not know, Alex,” Námo said. “I can only hope. These people sorely needed a wake-up call and, for better or worse, you were it.” He paused, gauging the mood of those around him. Derek was hugging Alex from the back, whispering something in his ear. Vorondur was watching the two Mortals closely while Glorfindel and Finrod exchanged looks, some private communication passing between them. The others looked troubled but not hostile. Gwyn and Gareth, in fact, both gave him understanding smiles and he smiled back. “Well, I will go now,” he said and started to turn away and then stopped, his expression somewhat sly. “Oh, by the way, you have a new gwador, Alex. Congratulations.”

Alex turned to face him, looking confused. “What do you mean? Who?”

“Can you not guess? Maedhros, of course.”

“Maedhros!” Finrod exclaimed in surprise. “My cousin Maedhros?”

Námo nodded. “He witnessed Alex’s martial arts demonstration and now all he can think about is finding a way here so he can be ‘with my new gwador, Alexgrant’.” This last was said in a voice and tone that several of those from Valinor recognized as belonging to Maedhros. Námo flashed them an amused look. “He’s driving everyone crazy and Maglor is ready to send him back to my Halls. Not that I would let him in, mind you. He was trouble enough the first time around.”

Everyone just goggled at him as he smiled smugly, giving them a nod of farewell before sauntering away, disappearing into the fabric of the garden.

“Well, that’s… interesting,” Glorfindel finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them as they stared at where Námo had disappeared.

Finrod snorted. “To say the least.” Then he went to Alex, giving him a searching look. “Will you be well, mellon nîn?”

“Eventually,” Alex answered. “Got a lot to think about and… well, I just have a lot to think about.”

Finrod nodded in understanding. “Know that we are all here for you in any capacity.”

“I still don’t get why this Raguel character was the only one who could show Alex the truth of what happened,” Derek groused. “I mean, c’mon, I can see God or whoever taking away the Valar’s ability to jump ship, but why couldn’t Námo do what Raguel did for Alex?”

“I have no answers for you, Derek,” Finrod said.

“But I do.”

They all turned around to see Raguel standing there holding a red balloon of all things, smiling at them warmly.

“Enjoy the parade?” Glorfindel asked, staring at the balloon.

“Oh, yes,” Raguel said brightly. “And I’ve been invited to a barbecue at the home of Officer Keith Reynolds, one of Prince Legolas’ coworkers. He was kind enough to explain what the parade was all about and why they were having it. I’ve never been to a barbecue before, though. Do I need to dress differently for it?” He stared down at his clothes.

“Nah, you’re good,” Derek said before anyone else could answer. “So you were saying?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. Explanations.” Raguel let go of the balloon which did not float away as expected. Everyone blinked at it bobbing beside the archangel as Raguel thrust his hands into the duster’s front pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “How much do any of you know about the Ayanumuz, the Ainur, as I believe is the word you Eldar use? Angels to you and Alex, Derek.”

“What exactly are we supposed to know?” Vorondur asked. “Until I came to Wiseman, I had never met any of the Ainur, well, except for Olórin when he occasionally showed up in Imladris to consult with Elrond, but I only knew him as Mithrandir and never thought of him as a Maia and he certainly did not exhibit the powers that I have seen among the Ainur who have made an appearance here in Wiseman.”

“I know some of you have heard stories about angels and such,” Raguel said and the Elves who had lived in Middle-earth and the two Mortals nodded. “A lot of it is balderdash, of course, especially the cutsie stuff that’s been popular lately about befriending your guardian angel and all that. I think your man Rilke said it best: ‘For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying’.”

He paused for a moment to give them time to take in what he had said. “Angels, Ainur, whatever you choose to call us, are of an order of being that none of you can fully grasp or understand. I have the power to destroy this galaxy with a single thought. Those whom you call the Valar do as well, but they would have to act in concert to effect such destruction. That is the difference between them and me. Their powers were curtailed so that they did not inadvertently bring about destruction. That is why Melkor was not able to simply destroy Atar’s creation with a single thought.”

“But you can,” Glorfindel said.

Raguel shrugged. “Yes, if I wished or if Atar commanded it of me. The point I am trying to make is that as powerful as the Valar and the Maiar appear to you, they are weak in comparison to what they were when they resided in the Timeless Halls. Námo, estimable Vala that he is, as powerful in his own way as he is, just did not have the power to help Alex to remember what only his fëa, his soul or spirit as you call it, knew.”

“But he deals with the fëar of the dead all the time,” Dar protested.

Raguel smiled at the Reborn. “Yes. Of the dead, but not necessarily of the living. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a barbecue to attend.” Without looking, he reached out with his right hand and to the amazement of all, the balloon floated serenely to him, bobbing upon a nonexistent breeze. “We will meet again, son of Adam,” he said to Alex. “Until then, peace be with you all.” And then he was no longer there.

They all stood there, none of them willing to break the silence between them, all of them lost in thought, but finally, Daeron stirred. “Speaking of barbecues…”

“Yeah, right,” Glorfindel said, shaking his head. “Okay, I guess the show’s over, folks. Why don’t we put all this existential stuff aside for now and just enjoy the day?”

People stirred and one or two chuckled. “What about you, Alex?” Vorondur asked. “Are you going to be okay?”

Alex glanced at Derek who shrugged and Alex nodded, saying, “Sure. I’m good. In fact, I think I’m better than good. So, maybe I can trade this coffee for some lemonade instead?”

Vorondur smiled. “One lemonade coming up. What about you, Derek? Lemonade?”

“Uh-uh. I think I’ll stick to java for a bit longer, thanks.”

“Well, you and Alex relax while we get the food on,” Glorfindel said.

“I’m surprised Zach and Jud and the others aren’t here,” Alex said. “They usually hang out with you guys, don’t they?”

“Yes, normally, but Zach went home to spend the holiday with his family,” Glorfindel said. “Lily, too. The others went camping together somewhere east of Chandalar in the Yukon Flats. They’ll be back by the weekend. So, who wants hot dogs, who wants hamburgers and who wants barbecue chicken?”

Everyone took a moment to give Glorfindel their orders and then the rest of the day was spent in conviviality, and if at times Alex seemed to distance himself from the celebration and retreat from them mentally, no one minded, though Vorondur continued to keep a close eye on the Mortal just in case.


It was later, when the food had been eaten and the dishes cleared and people were sitting around the bonfire in the clearing enjoying their wine or other beverages, all of them in a mellow mood, that Glorfindel decided to confront the ap Hywel brothers. He had thought about it for some time, trying to decide how best to approach it, not wanting to cause any antagonism between him and the brothers, for he knew that they would go on the defensive if he accused them of withholding information from him. He realized that they probably were not doing so consciously, that his vague descriptions of his dreams which he had shared with them when he, Finrod and Legolas had been in Fairbanks with the youngsters would not have necessarily alerted them that he was speaking of the talisman, assuming that it actually existed and it was not just a symbol of something else to do with the brothers.

Now that everyone was replete with food and drink and feeling mellow, he figured it was as good a time as any to ask them about it. He glanced to his left and saw that Gwyn was sitting next to Mithrellas on one of the logs used for that purpose, the two deep in their own conversation. Glorfindel smiled approvingly at the sight of them holding hands. Gwyn leaned over and planted a light kiss on Mithrellas’ cheek and the elleth smiled and did not turn away. Glorfindel hoped it would work out for them both; Mithrellas, especially, deserved every happiness.

Glancing about, he spied Gareth sitting beside Nielluin on the opposite side of the bonfire from where he was. They were with Alex and Derek, along with the Three Amigos and Vorondur’s two sons, laughing at some joke that Derek had just told them. Glorfindel smiled at the sight, remembering how obnoxious Finda and his gwedyr had been when they first arrived and how Alex had put them in their places rather neatly. Things had changed for all of them, especially when the Three Amigos started attending the college. Glorfindel knew that the ellyn were already planning on taking Alex’s Italian 101 class next semester. Glorfindel nodded to himself in approval. It would give them a whole different perspective on their Mortal friend, seeing him in a position of authority over them in that one regard.

“What are you thinking, gwador?” Finrod whispered to him.

Glorfindel looked at Finrod sitting on his right, the ellon’s expression knowing. “I’m thinking it is time to ask a few pertinent questions about things.”

“Here and now? Do you wish to spoil the mood for everyone? Can it not wait until tomorrow at least?"

“When will there ever be a good time in anyone’s mind?” Glorfindel retorted. “You and Ron will always find an excuse as to why I shouldn’t confront Gwyn and Gareth over my dream. I don’t intend accusing them of duplicity or anything, but I need answers. We need answers. Those dreams came to me for a reason and the longer I delay in finding the truth about them, the worse it will be for all of us, I deem. Gwyn and Gareth hold the key to my understanding what is happening to me.”

“Just go carefully,” Finrod admonished him.

“Don’t I always?” Glorfindel couldn’t help saying, giving his gwador a grin. Finrod refused to dignify that with an answer.

Glorfindel stood and all conversations stopped as everyone looked to him, for it was obvious he was going to make a speech. “First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for a great day today. I think we all deserved the break.”

“Amen,” Daeron muttered and several people laughed while others applauded.

Glorfindel gave the minstrel a bright smile. “Second, and I realize that some here will think this is not the best time for this, but I wish to share with you something that has happened to me of late, namely the fact that I have experienced some dreams that may or may not be prophetic. If you will indulge me, I would like to tell you about them. Perhaps some of you will have some thoughts about them.” He purposely did not look at either Gwyn or Gareth.

For a moment, no one ventured to speak. Finally, though, Elrond nodded. “Let us hear your dreams, Lord Glorfindel,” he said formally, “and mayhap we will be able to help in interpreting their meaning.”

Others nodded in agreement. “Say on, meldonya,” Valandur said. “We are all ears.”

Several people shifted their positions to better see Glorfindel who remained standing. When everyone was settled, he nodded. “Okay, so the dreams always begin the same with us celebrating Father’s Day and Midsummer, which sometimes fall on the same day. I know for a fact that the next time that happens is in three years’ time. Anyway, we’re all together like we are now and then Fionwë appears and warns us that we must flee Wiseman for the Enemy is about to attack. So we do and as we leave Edhellond is destroyed.”

There were murmurs of surprise and shock at that. Glorfindel held up his hand to still any questions. “Let me finish telling the dream and then I’ll answer any questions.” He waited a moment for silence and then resumed his narrative. “We all meet at the Arctic Circle where we agree to go our separate ways to make it harder for the Enemy to find us and — yes, Alex?”

“Sorry, just wondering. You said all of us. Does that mean Derek and me as well?”

Glorfindel smiled. “Yeah, you, Derek… and Felicity. A very pregnant Felicity.”

“Huh?” Alex looked absolutely dumbfounded and several people sniggered at his expression.

“So should we be offering our congratulations now or wait until later?” Barahir asked with a sly look.

“Hey! It’s just a stupid dream. Doesn’t mean anything,” Alex protested.

“You hope,” Derek chimed in.


“Hang on, gwador, and take a deep breath. No one’s saying you and Felicity are doomed to marry.” Alex gave him a disbelieving look. “So, just relax and let Loren finish telling the dream or we’ll be here all night. Not that these guys will care, but I need my beauty sleep.”

Now there was outright laughter. “I assure you, Alex, that while we would be happy to see you and Felicity together and in the family way, none of us will pressure either of you into it,” Vorondur said. “Relax, son. As you say, it’s just a dream and obviously Loren is just projecting his own wishes for your happiness.”

Alex took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Glorfindel assured him. “Okay, so the next part of the dream takes place in the Adirondacks because Gwyn and Gareth tell us that something they hid there will help us against the Enemy and we go to retrieve it.” Now it was the ap Hywel brothers’ turn to look startled, but neither of them said anything, waiting to hear what Glorfindel had to say next.

“The Adirondacks!” Daeron exclaimed. “We’ve never been there. How odd that you would dream of a place you’ve never been.”

“It gets stranger still as you will soon see,” Glorfindel said and several eyebrows went up, but before Glorfindel could continue Elrond interrupted.

“Forgive me, but for those of us newly come to these shores, what are the Adirondacks and what is their significance?”

“Oh, sorry,” Glorfindel said. “I keep forgetting that not everyone here is knowledgeable about present-day geography. The Adirondacks are mountains in the east, in the state of New York. They are actually a national park though unlike other such parks people actually live inside it in small hamlets. The largest towns are Saranac Lake and Lake Placid, both about the size of Wiseman in terms of population.”

“I used to live there,” Amroth explained to Elrond, “before I came here.”

“Not far from Wilmington, if I remember correctly,” Glorfindel said and cursed himself for forgetting that bit of information.

Amroth nodded. “About a mile outside on the way to Jay. Worked as an elf at Santa’s Workshop.” He grinned at the nonplused expressions on the faces of several people unaware of his past. “But we are getting away from the subject. So, you ended up going to the Adirondacks, Loren.”

“Ah, yes. Um… You, Della and your triplets were one group along with Gwyn, Misty, Gareth and Nell.” He couldn’t help leering at Gwyn and Misty.

“Hey! Are you trying to marry all of us off, Loren?” Gwyn demanded and others laughed while Misty just blushed.

Glorfindel plastered a surprised look on his face, his right hand over his heart. “Moi? Do I look like a matchmaker to you? That’s Darren’s job.”

“Oh no! Don’t you go blaming me. I just collect the rose petals, nothing more.”

Glorfindel grinned at the ellon while everyone else chuckled at the byplay. “Relax you two, it’s just a dream.”

“But you think it’s prophetic,” Valandur pointed out.

“I think part of it might be, but not necessarily everything, especially the insignificant details like who’s married to whom and all.”

“That’s not insignificant to us,” Alex said with a grin.

“Sorry, wrong choice of words. Do you think I can get to the rest of the dream before Derek falls asleep on us?”

“I’m not sleepy, not anymore,” Derek quipped. “So who else went with you to the Adirondacks?”

“Let me see, Darren, of course, Elrond and Celebrían and Finrod, you, Alex and Felicity. Roy, Sarah and Dan were already there, the Twins working at the local hospital actually. Anyway, we get to the Adirondacks and meet up with Amroth and the ap Hywels and that is when you, Gwyn, tell us why we were there.”

“Why were we there?”

“Because you two hid something there, some kind of talisman. You never said what it was, but only that you brought it with you when you came to America and you both had a dream about traveling to the Adirondacks, to Whiteface, actually, and hiding this talisman there, apparently for safekeeping.”

Gwyn looked distressed at Glorfindel’s words, but Gareth went absolutely white.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Alex asked in concern, grabbing the ellon who looked to be fainting. “Mir, I think he’s about to go into shock.”

Vardamir leapt from where he was sitting and came over, kneeling before Gareth and checking his pulse.

“Gary?” Nielluin asked, looking worried as she brushed a hand through Gareth’s hair to comfort him. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do we have any more wine left?” Vardamir asked and immediately several people lunged toward wine bottles sitting near them. Barahir reached one first and poured some into the goblet that Nielluin handed to him and then gave it to the healer who, with Alex’s help, managed to get some of it down Gareth’s throat. “Easy now, child,” Vardamir said quietly. “That’s it… a little more… good.” He took the now empty goblet from Gareth and handed it to Alex then rechecked the ellon’s pulse. Vorondur had come over as well, giving him a clinical once-over.

“Keep breathing, Gareth,” he said solicitously. “That’s it. Everything’s okay.” He went to check on Gwyn who sat still as stone staring into space while Mithrellas tried to get him to respond to her. “How are you doing, son? You look almost as pale as your brother. Here, have some more wine.” He gestured and Barahir handed him the wine bottle. Mithrellas handed him Gwyn’s goblet and then the two attempted to get him to drink. After a moment, he seemed to come back to himself and took the goblet, downing the wine almost in a single gulp. “Easy, Gwyn,” Vorondur said quietly, then he turned to face Glorfindel. “Obviously this part of your dream means something, at least to these two.”

“What is this talisman and where was it hidden?” Amroth asked.

“I never found out until the very end,” Glorfindel said. “Perhaps I should skip to that part. Most of the dream dealt with us making preparations to retrieve the talisman because Gwyn and Gareth hid it in a place called High Falls Gorge, just south of Wilmington and in sight of Whiteface Mountain.”

Amroth nodded. “I know that place. Quite lovely, but you said you never went there. How did you know of the Gorge?”

“I don’t know. When I finally remembered my dream, I asked Roy to take pictures of certain places, like this High Falls Gorge, when he and Sarah were there for their honeymoon. He sent them to me just recently. I can show them to you if you want. So, should I skip the boring parts and get to the end?” He looked at Vorondur when he said this and saw the ellon raise an eyebrow, knowing full well that the ‘boring parts’ consisted of the Mortals drowning and the apparent ghost of Charles Waverly appearing. Vorondur gave him a small nod and there was almost a look of relief on Glorfindel’s face.

“Yes, why don’t we do that,” Vorondur said, glancing at the ap Hywel brothers, both of them looking far too pale still. “Then perhaps we can hear Gwyn and Gareth’s story.”

“Okay, so it turned out that this talisman — and neither Gwyn nor Gareth would tell us what it was, saying we would have to see it for ourselves — was hidden in such a way that we had to wait until a particular time of the month when the moon and the sun were in the sky together on opposite sides of each other with the moon about to set as the sun was rising.” He then went on to describe all that had happened in the Gorge up to the point where the door was opened and the talisman was revealed.

“Could the jewel be one of the Silmarils?” Elrond exclaimed in shock after Glorfindel finished describing the knife.

“That was my first thought,” Glorfindel allowed, “but the question really is, is the talisman for real or is this just a symbol of something else, some other object in Gwyn and Gareth’s keeping?”

The others automatically looked to the brothers at Glorfindels’ question. Gareth was still looking like death warmed over, as Derek whispered to Alex, but Gwyn appeared to be calmer and more together. He glanced at his brother before he turned back to Glorfindel. “The talisman is real enough, just as you’ve described it.”

“You mean, you actually hid it at this High Falls Gorge?” Nimrodel asked.

“Er… sort of. Look, it’s rather hard to explain.”

“Where did you get it in the first place?” Finrod asked.

Gwyn grimaced, stealing another glance at Gareth sitting quietly on the opposite side of the bonfire from him. “Actually we stole it.”

People started at that and Gareth shook his head. “He means I stole it.”

“And from whom did you steal it?” Finrod asked carefully.

Gareth actually snorted. “From Mortals, of course. Who else was there to steal from?”

“Okay, so when and where and why was this dastardly deed committed?” Derek demanded. “Inquiring minds wish to know.”

“It’s a long tale,” Gareth said with a sigh.

“That’s all right. No one’s going anywhere,” Glorfindel said, “though Derek might wish to excuse himself so he can get his beauty rest.”

“When hell freezes over,” Derek said sharply and several people laughed.

When they had calmed down, Gareth spoke. “Well, to begin with, we came upon the talisman while we were fleeing Acre before it fell to the Mamluks in twelve-ninety-one and—”

“Okay, hold it right there,” Alex insisted. “Let’s back up a bit, shall we? For those of us who are a little vague on our history or don’t know it at all, perhaps you can give us a bit of background as to what you were doing in Acre.”

“We were members of the Order of Knights Templar,” Gwyn answered before Gareth could speak.

“You were Knights Templars?” Derek asked in surprise.

“Are you daft?” Gwyn retorted in exasperation. “Of course not. The Templars did not knight anyone. You had to be a knight already before you were admitted into the Order. We were Sergeants. We were the support personnel, you might say, as well as the shock troops. As to how we came to join the Templars, well, that’s an even longer story, but here’s a brief synopsis: In eleven-forty-four, the first Crusader Kingdom, Edessa, fell to the Saracens and a second Crusade was called the following year. By then I was eighty-six, Gareth was forty-five. I decided to go on Crusade and Gareth wished to come even though he was, by our standards, still an elfling, yet some of our Mortal friends who were sixteen, seventeen, were joining so our parents reluctantly allowed him to go with me.”

“That must have been hard for them,” Daeron said softly.

“Yes, it was, knowing the possibility that neither one of us might survive,” Gwyn replied. “At any rate, we were there in the Battle of Hattin, which proved to be a disaster for the Crusaders and Jerusalem fell to the Saracens. We were actually captured by the Saracens and would probably have been sent to Egypt and sold into slavery along with some of the other warriors so captured if it hadn’t been for Salah al-Din, whom history knows as Saladin. He saw us and seemed to know that we were Elves, though we never learned how. He kept us by him, had one of his other slaves teach us Arabic.”

“God in heaven!” Daeron uttered in absolute shock and both Glorfindel and Vorondur were beside him immediately with Glorfindel quickly pouring some wine into a goblet and thrusting it at Vorondur who attempted to get the minstrel to drink.

“Is he okay?” Gwyn asked worriedly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Gwyn,” Vorondur assured him. “You’ve said nothing wrong. I’m afraid your history hit a little too close to home for him. Daeron, do you want to leave?”

Daeron shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. Sorry. It just… forget it. Gwyn, continue, please. God, we were so close and we never knew.”

“What do you mean?” Gwyn demanded.

“You and your brother,” Daeron said, looking up at Glorfindel. “We were traveling through that very area. We actually met Salah al-Din in Damascus just before he went off to war.”

“Yes, but by the time Gwyn and Gareth were with him, we were already making our way to Constantinople,” Glorfindel said. “There is nothing any of us could have done, because we did not know.”

“So what happened?” Derek demanded. “I mean, how did you end up in Acre with the Templars?”

“Two years after the Battle of Hattin, the Third Crusade occurred.”

“That’s the one with Richard the Lionhearted, isn’t it?” Alex asked.

Both Gwyn and Gareth nodded. “Among others,” Gwyn answered. “Jerusalem was the goal of the Crusaders, but they failed in recapturing the city, though other coastal cities were captured. One such was Acre in eleven-ninety-one and the Templars made it their headquarters. Gareth and I, in the meanwhile, began plotting our escape from the Saracens, though we were reluctant to depart from Saladin, for he treated us more like guests than slaves. Still, we wanted only to return home to our parents.”

“But that didn’t happen, not for another hundred years,” Gareth added sadly. “We escaped during the time when Richard and Saladin were meeting to form a treaty whereby the Saracens kept Jerusalem but allowed Christian pilgrims and merchants to enter the city. We knew we could find no sanctuary in Jerusalem, so we headed for the coast to Jaffa, one of the other cities recaptured by the Crusaders. Unfortunately, we found no refuge there and the whys and wherefores would take too long to tell. Suffice to say that we were unable to take ship and were forced to flee the city and head north, pursued by Saladin’s agents intent on returning us to our… um… master.” He grimaced at that and Gwyn took up the narrative.

“We reached Acre and in a moment of desperation, we went to the Grand Master of the Templars, Robert de Sablé, and pleaded for him to succor us, revealing to him our true nature.”

“That was dangerous,” Glorfindel said.

“It was less dangerous than the alternative,” Gwyn countered. “The long and the short of it was that de Sablé granted us sanctuary and brought us into the Order as Sergeants and there we remained for the next hundred years until the city fell and we escaped bearing the talisman. We were part of a group that snuck the Templar treasury out of the city. That’s where we found the talisman, in the Templar vault. It was hidden in a dark corner where it was forgotten, I presume. Gareth happened upon it and we could tell that the jewel was like nothing we had ever seen before. Gareth ended up hiding it in his satchel. I didn’t realize what he’d done until we had already left the city and by then it was too late. Had we attempted to return it, we would’ve been summarily executed for thievery. When the ship reached Sidon, we left, so essentially we are deserters, if you want to look at it that way. We made our own way back home after that.”

“And the talisman?” Finrod asked. “What did you do with it?”

“And how is it that Glorfindel is dreaming about it now?” Valandur asked.

“Let us refresh our goblets and Gareth and I will tell you,” Gwyn suggested, and a few minutes were spent with people refilling goblets, with a few entering the woods briefly to relieve themselves before returning and settling down. When everyone was back, Glorfindel gestured to Gwyn.

“So, tell us the story.”


Meldonya: (Quenya) My (male) friend. A female friend would be meldenya.

Note: Raguel quotes from the First Elegy of Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies.

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