39: Rescue Mission Into the Past
Author's Note: Warning for intensity of certain scenes.
****
When Ingwë woke again he was still in Manwë’s arms. He looked up into the Elder King’s face with some confusion.
"Lord Manwë," he said, pulling himself out of the Vala’s embrace. "What has happened?" Then he took in his surroundings and he felt his jaw drop in astonishment. "This is Cuiviénen! How did I get here?"
"That, my friend, is a very long tale best told when we return home."
"Home."
Manwë nodded. "That is, if you are ready to return."
Ingwë nodded, still feeling bemused. Manwë stood and pulled Ingwe to his feet. "It may be best if you keep your eyes closed. The journey back may prove disconcerting to you."
The Vanya complied and allowed Manwë to hold him. Then, Reality seemed to lurch... sideways. He found himself clinging to the Elder King, biting his lips to stop from screaming. In the space of three breaths, though, Reality did another twist and righted itself. Ingwë found he could breathe normally again. He sagged against Manwë, unwilling to let go.
"Open your eyes now, Ingwe," Manwë commanded and Ingwë complied.
There was a sensation of swimming upwards and then he found himself staring into the eyes of, not only Manwë, but Námo, Varda and Nienna. Fionwë was also there as were Maranwë and Olórin.
"What has happened?" Ingwë asked, struggling to sit up. Fionwë gave him a helping hand.
"What do you remember, Ingwë?" Námo asked.
Ingwë shrugged. "Little enough it seems. I woke to find all around me asleep. Then I met Fionwë and his companions who brought me here. I remember I waited for a very long time..."
"How long?" Manwë asked.
Ingwë stared at the Elder King for a moment before answering. "It must have been at least an hour, my lord. But you know this!" he ended in protest, confusion beginning to take over again.
Manwë shook his head. "Ingwë, you were left alone for less than five minutes."
Ingwë sat there stunned. "But that’s not possible, lord. I waited and waited and no one came."
Instead of answering him, Manwë turned to Námo. "Could that be where the break occurred?"
Námo nodded. "Undoubtedly. Time dilation coupled with a temporal displacement of his fëa..." The Lord of Mandos paused, looking thoughtful. Then, to Ingwë’s everlasting surprise, Námo raised his right forefinger and began to trace a figure in the air. Where the Vala’s finger moved, a green glow appeared, taking solid form. Ingwë could see what appeared to be a glowing strip of vellum suspended in the air before the Vala. The ends of the strip were joined, but one end was twisted in some fashion.
Námo was moving his finger above the glowing strip, stopping at some point. "This is where the slip occurred. Here are the coordinates."
He began tracing in the air again, but this time it was a series of numerals, only Ingwë could not interpret their meaning. The other Valar and their Maiar servants, however, nodded in obvious familiarity.
"Are you sure it’s just a temporal displacement, lord?" Maranwë asked.
"Yes," Námo answered with a nod. "The time dilation occurred here," pointing to a particular point on the floating vellum, "and Ingwë’s fëa fled back to this point along the continuum." He moved his finger to another point which suddenly flared an incandescent blue. Ingwë had to hide his eyes for a second. "His hröa, however, remained here with us."
"Then it’s possible others will do the same if frightened enough," Olórin said with a grimace.
"But probably not that many, for which we can be thankful," Varda said fervently.
Manwë nodded. "I almost caught up with Ingwë here." He pointed at still another point along the strip of glowing vellum, which also flared blue. Manwë began writing his own set of numerals in the air. "Have the Maiar keep watch along these coordinates, plus and minus point-five, just to be safe. I already have Eönwë stationed at Cuiviénen just in case any get that far. Fionwë, you will oversee the rescue mission from this end. Olórin and Maranwë will aid you."
"Call on us if you need to," Námo said. "One of us will come."
The three Maiar bowed and left. Ingwë looked at the four Valar feeling completely lost. "Forgive me, my lord," he said. "I did not mean to cause any trouble."
Manwë shook his head and placed a hand on the elf’s head in comfort. "The fault is entirely ours, Ingwë, for which we sincerely apologize."
"You woke too soon, you see, and suffered a shock," Námo said with a rueful smile.
"Was I really at Cuiviénen?"
"Yes and no," Varda said, giving the Vanya a slight shake of her head, the crown of living stars above her shining as brightly as ever. "Your fëa fled back to the place where it awakened in Arda. Somehow you managed to do something we did not think you were capable of doing. You managed to flee into the Past."
Ingwë shook his head in bemusement, not sure what the Valië meant. "I doubt if I could repeat the performance, lady. I don’t remember how I did it the first time."
"That is well, child," Námo said, sounding grave, though Ingwë detected a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I doubt if my brother will be up to running after you again. You gave him quite a merry chase you know."
Ingwë blushed as the Valar laughed. "Do not be troubled, my son," Manwë said. "I quite enjoyed the exercise."
Before Ingwë could respond, though, Fionwë appeared, looking grim. Ingwë felt his blood run cold, though he did not know the reason.
"We may have a problem, my Lord Manwë," the Maia said with a bow to the Elder King.
"What is it, Fionwë?" raising an eyebrow at the Maia’s tone.
The Maia gave a sigh. "Glorfindel’s awake...and he’s armed."
****
Glorfindel woke to find all the elves about him sleeping... and the High King missing. Warrior instincts took over almost immediately and without any conscious effort on his part. He paused long enough to check on Alassiel. Assured that she was merely sleeping, he slipped out of the dining room, stopping just long enough to take a sword from one of the guards who had been standing watch at the doors but was now as fast asleep as everyone else. As he continued walking the silent hallways of the palace his alarm grew. Where was Ingwë? What had happened to them all that they had fallen into sleep?
He made his way through the palace and then out into the city when he could find no sign of the High King within the palace. As he wandered the streets he found himself looking up, searching the skies, his apprehension growing. He wanted to call out, but reason told him it was best to remain silent. If there was an enemy lurking in the city...
Enemy. The word stopped him in his tracks. Could there be some agent of evil stalking the elves of Vanyamar? He tried to remember what had happened before he fell asleep....
"Glorfindel."
He spun around, sword at the ready position, to find himself facing several Maiar, none of whom he recognized. One of them had his hand up.
"Give me the sword, Glorfindel," the Maia said soothingly. "You don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?"
Glorfindel backed slowly away. "Who are you? Where’s Ingwë?" he demanded. "What have you done with the High King?"
"My name is Manveru of the People of Manwë. Ingwë is safe and unharmed, child," the Maia said. "Would you like to see him?" Glorfindel nodded. "Then let me have the sword," Manveru continued as he held out his hand, "and I will take you to him."
It took a moment for Glorfindel to comply and when he did every Maia there breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived though. The Maiar led Glorfindel through the north gate and onto the road leading up the mountain to Taniquetil. Glorfindel took one look at their route and balked, fear beginning to take over as he recalled Námo’s prohibition.
"What trick is this?" he demanded hotly, backing away from the road. "You know I’m not permitted... Lord Námo said I wasn’t..."
He was beginning to panic, and the panic became worse when he realized he didn’t know why he was panicking. He saw Manveru speaking to him but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. His only thought was he had to get away. He wasn’t supposed to be here...
Manveru had just enough time to catch the elda before Glorfindel collapsed, uttering an oath for his stupidity. He was about to call upon his lord when the fabric of Reality shifted and both Manwë and Námo were there.
"I’m sorry, my lord," Manveru said contritely. "I was unaware of your prohibition..."
"Peace, Manveru," Manwë said kindly. "You are not to blame." He looked down at the elf for a moment then turned to Námo with a smile. "It’s your turn, this time."
Námo gave his brother Vala a wry grin. "What’s the matter, did Ingwë wear you out?"
Manwë laughed. "Happy hunting, my brother, and good luck. With this one, you’ll need it."
Námo laughed as well before motioning to several of the waiting Maiar to follow him down the Ages into the Past after a fleeing golden-haired elf.
****
"He didn’t come this way, lord," Fionwë said. He and his fellow Maiar stood with Lord Námo at the foot of the Misty Mountains giving their news. The Lord of Mandos looked more amused than perturbed at their report. There had been no sign of Glorfindel, though every Maia along the presumed route back to Cuiviénen had been alerted. So far, only a few of the Eldar had fled this way and all had been safely retrieved.
"Why am I not surprised?" Námo said to no one in particular. "Our little Balrog-slayer never does the expected, does he?"
"Where could he have gone, then?" Erunáro asked. He was Manveru’s brother in the Thought of Ilúvatar and one of Manwë’s most trusted warriors. Námo was glad to have him there. "Unless..."
Námo looked at the Maia appraisingly, pleased that one of them had figured it out. "Say on, Erunáro. Tell me your thoughts."
"He’s heading for Gondolin," Erunáro proclaimed with certainty. "The question is, how far back into Gondolin’s Past will he have gone?"
"Not far," Námo said. He quickly called up the image of Arda’s continuum for all to see. "Ingwë fled to Cuiviénen but only to this point here when all of the Eldar had already left on their Great Journey, so he was never in danger of meeting himself. I think the same will be true with Glorfindel. He will go to Gondolin but it will be at a point after his own death and none are yet alive in the city. I suspect Eru has had a hand in this, for which we may all be grateful." He gazed at the image for a long moment then pointed to a particular spot. "Here, I think. We will find him here."
****
Glorfindel fled. He wasn’t sure why he was fleeing, or from what; he could not remember. He only knew he mustn’t be caught. So, he would continue fleeing. He fled through darkness and across snow-covered wastelands, heedless of the ice flows. Finally he came to land, desolate under the stars until he was approaching a ring of mountains. He paused then, to catch his breath. Somehow he needed to get through the mountains. Something told him he would be safe from whatever was pursuing him if he could get to the other side. He looked back along his route, wondering who was after him and why. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. He only knew he mustn’t be caught. With that thought in mind he began running again, unaware that he was passing through the mountains, not over them.
When he found himself in a wide valley with the ruins of a seven-tiered city before him, he stopped again. This is where he had been heading. This was his destination. He started to climb the main street of the city that wound through all seven levels. He was looking for someone, but he couldn’t remember who.
He was nearly at the fourth level when he came upon a familiar courtyard. There was a fountain in the middle of it with statues of swans. He looked around and found the gaping entrance of what had once been his home. The emblem of his House carved above the lintel was the only thing that appeared undamaged. The doors to his home hung on broken hinges. The interior was a dark gaping hole. He started towards the entrance.
"Glorfindel."
He spun around with a gasp to find himself surrounded by Maiar. One stood by the fountain, clad as a warrior. Others blocked the road to the lower levels while still others stood beside the gate leading to the next level.
The Maia by the fountain started to walk towards him slowly, holding out his hand. "Time to go home, child."
Glorfindel shook his head in dismay, backing away. "I am home," he whispered. He was silently berating himself for having allowed himself to be so surrounded and wondered if he could make it into his house before they took him. Ruined or not, he knew his home intimately, as these Maiar would not. There were places he could hide and they would never find him....
He turned to run into the house only to plow into a Maia who grabbed him. He started screaming. In the end, it took three of the Maiar to hold him down. Námo approached, shaking his head, as he knelt beside the struggling elf. "Glorfindel. Glorfindel. Whatever are we going to do with you, child?"
He reached out and placed a finger on the ellon’s head and said a single word, plunging the still screaming elf into a deep sleep.
****
When Glorfindel awoke he found himself lying in the courtyard before his ruined home staring up at a ring of Maiar, all armed with swords, all pointed at him. They obviously weren’t about to take any chances with him. Reborn or not, he was a Noldo; worse, he was a proven warrior and they respected that. When Erunáro saw that Glorfindel was awake, he stepped aside to allow his lord entrance into the ring. Námo knelt by Glorfindel’s head.
"Awake at last, my little Balrog-slayer?" the Lord of Mandos asked and brushed his hand against the ellon’s head. Glorfindel shrank from the touch, closing his eyes, mentally steeling himself for the punishment he was about to receive. He’d been caught, after all; it was only to be expected.
Námo continued caressing the elf’s head as he spoke. "Why do I need to punish you, Glorfindel?"
"Because I ran away," he said softly, keeping his eyes closed.
"And why did you run away?"
"I was on the mountain," he said after a long pause. "I’m not suppose to be on the mountain."
"But you ran away. Isn’t that a good thing?"
Glorfindel shook his head and opened his eyes. They were full of despair. "I wanted to be on the mountain. I wanted to go up the road. I knew I shouldn’t but I wanted to anyway. I’m sorry... I know I have to be punished. I...I promise not to... scream too much."
"A promise I will not hold you to, child," Námo said decisively. He suddenly took the ellon by the shoulders and hauled him to a sitting position then grabbed the back of Glorfindel’s head to hold him steady and leaned down and kissed the ellon on the forehead. Then he sat back and waited.
Glorfindel stared at the Vala with incomprehension and then his eyes widened and he clutched at Námo’s arm before he started convulsing. Námo took the ellon into his embrace to support him as Love Imperishable swept through Glorfindel’s fëa with implacable purpose. His shrieks were loud and primal and the Maiar stood watching him in silent awe.
As the last wave of ecstasy passed through him, Glorfindel whimpered. "I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I tried not to scream."
Námo kissed him on the top of his head. "But I’m glad you did, child. Go to sleep now, best beloved." Glorfindel gave another soft whimper as he snuggled closer into Námo’s embrace and fell asleep once again.
****
This time when he woke it was by a small fire. A pillow cushioned his head and a light blanket covered him. He sat up to look around. None of the Maiar were present and Námo was sitting placidly by the fountain.
"This is Gondolin," Glorfindel said with some awe.
"Yes, it is."
"Am I dreaming?"
"No, you are not." Námo stood up and walked over to the elf, extending his hand to help him rise. "Explanations later. It’s time to go home."
Glorfindel looked around once more, seeing the ruin of his home, of his city, and knew at last that this place was not for him. It was a dead city and he was no longer dead. He looked at Námo and nodded. "Home."
Námo smiled down at him. "You may wish to close your eyes. The journey can be disconcerting when you are not used to it." He gathered the elf into his arms and Glorfindel closed his eyes, nestling his head against the Vala’s chest. Without giving any warning, Námo took them home. In spite of his good intentions, Glorfindel screamed once. When they finally arrived, Námo was not at all surprised to find that the young ellon had fainted.
****
Note on Valarin science: It stands to reason that any beings responsible for ‘building’ the universe would have advanced knowledge of the sciences and mathematics involved. I have shown them using that knowledge in such a way that, hopefully, does not go against the spirit of Tolkien’s intent. Ingwë and the elves, of course, would find such knowledge incomprehensible. Tolkien himself states that, "[the Valar] could move backward or forward in thought, and return again so swiftly that to those who were in their presence they did not appear to have moved. All that was past they could fully perceive..." [Morgoth’s Ring]. Although Tolkien does not say, I assume the Maiar have the same ability.
The "glowing strip of light with one end twisted 180-degrees before joining it to the other end" is, of course, what we know as a moebius strip, which is a two-dimensional figure with a single plane, rather than two. It represents the space-time continuum of our planet. Moving along the continuum in any direction, you eventually come back to your starting point. This means that the past will eventually become the future and the future will become the past depending on where you are along the continuum.