70Chapter XIV
Glorfindel rode at the end, keeping an eye on both Maglor and Fëanáro, as well as the people they passed. Having Elrond at the head, with the two Fëanorians in the middle, gave their small procession an air of formality, for Elrond, even in his dirty cloak and muddy horse, still managed to look regal.
And everyone knew the King's Herald.
Silent the entire way, they rode into the Palace grounds, past the guards, without incident and dismounted in a courtyard near the stables.
"You will not want to go to the king looking like that," Glorfindel gave Elrond a scrutinizing look. "Hardly clothes befitting the King's Herald."
Elrond followed his gaze down at his dusty clothes and shrugged. "Ereinion has seen worse. But by all means, go help yourselves to a bath. I shall see the king and, well. Warn him, I guess," he shook his head. This was not going to be easy. "Maglor, can you just please not go off exploring the city alone?"
"You vouched for me," Maglor inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I wish you no additional trouble."
Elrond held Maglor's gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Glorfindel will show you to guest quarters, he knows the way. If you have need of anything, let the staff know. I will notify them to get any clothing you need at your direction." He nodded to Glorfindel and Fëanáro before turning to walk into the palace.
"I'll take the horses," Fëanáro offered and picked the reins. He said something quiet to the horses, who followed him into the stables, leaving Glorfindel alone with Maglor.
"This way." Glorfindel gestured and led the way, through a different corridor than Elrond had taken, past gardens and several open spaces where chairs were set up for those who wished to enjoy the outdoors. Beyond a long hall of graceful columns, intricately carved with scenes from history and a tall, arching ceiling painted to resemble the sky, they entered an older section of the palace, where Glorfindel finally showed Maglor to a room.
It was graciously appointed, with wing chairs and a fireplace, a table with writing parchment and an inkwell and quills as well as a bathing room and a bedroom. "I'm two doors down from here and your father is just beyond my room."
"Where is Elrond's room?"
"He has quarters near here, a bit more spacious as he is the king's herald. I can show you later if you'd like."
Walking to the window to look out, Maglor nodded. "I remember when this entire area was nothing but encampments for refugees of Beleriand."
Leaning against the window sill, Glorfindel nodded. "Across the bay is Harlond, where Celeborn's folk dwell, and Mithlond is on both this side and the other. That is Cirdan's Grey Havens and the ship building is done there. Many fisher folk dwell there as well as his people."
With a twist of his mouth, Maglor turned to face Glorfindel. "How did you adjust so quickly to all of this? Beleriand gone, Númenor raised for the Edain. It's all so different."
Pushing away from the window, Glorfindel walked to the fireplace and knelt. "I was prepared before leaving Aman." He found the kindling in place and set a match to it, building the fire slowly until it was strong enough to add a couple of logs. Setting them in the holder, he dusted his hands together and stood. "But it was still something of a shock." He faced Maglor, and shrugged. "So much is under the sea now. All the lands we knew."
"The lands we defended with blood and tears." Maglor shook his head. "All for naught."
"Not entirely." Keeping his tone light, Glorfindel gestured to his filthy clothing. "I don't know about you, cousin, but I would dearly love to be rid of all this mud and dirt of the road."
Maglor scratched his head. "I cannot say that a warm bath in an actual bathing pool would not be welcome." He walked to his pack and dug through it. "Though I have little that is suitable for meeting a high king."
There was sarcasm in his voice that Glorfindel chose to ignore for the moment. "Go ahead and get the water going - it takes a bit of time to warm and fill the pools. We share a bathing room, I hope you don't mind?"
The dark eyes, weary and wary, held a bit of humor as Maglor shook his head. "I shared with brothers most of my life." As Glorfindel walked to the door he asked, "Where are you going? I thought you wanted to get clean?"
"You need suitable garments. I was given ...ridiculous amounts of clothing when I arrived. I think Gil-galad was a bit anxious about having visitors sent from Aman."
"I can imagine."
Smiling for the dry tone, Glorfindel smiled. "I'll bring some of my unused things here for you. We're of similar size, and there are skilled seamstresses who can alter them to fit. I'll be right back."
Maglor nodded and turned to go into the bathing room. There were several large baths, bathing pools Glorfindel had called them, but they were similar to the sort of bathing tubs he had seen in the more elegant cities in his wanderings. He easily figured out the plumbing and turned the taps to begin filling the tubs.
xxx
"Don't blame Elrond for taking extra precautions," Glorfindel tossed away the clothes dirty from the road and leaned to check if the water was warm enough. "Fëanáro was almost strangled at the first gathering of the Court we attended. I guess he wants to minimize the chances of some fool taking similar action towards you."
"I see."
Maglor didn't look overly interested in hearing the story, so Glorfindel dropped the subject. Some things had priorities after all. "Ah! There is nothing better than a hot tub!" He sank into the pool rather abruptly, splashing the water all over.
Maglor was not amused. "Aren't we a bit too old for such antics?" He tried hard to feign displeasure, but the corners of his mouth twitched treacherously.
"Speak for yourself," Glorfindel laughed and pulled his now soaking hair from his face. "Or better still, join me. And please tell me you still remember how to use that!" A bar of soap, already wet, was thrown with great speed right at Maglor, who ducked skillfully. Snorting, he leaned and picked the slippery bar and tossed it freely in his hand.
"I thought you were determined to get properly clean?" Maglor regarded his cousin with feigned interest. "Now it's mine and I'm not going to share," he threatened and sank into the water, humming a merry melody, but doing little else. And still holding the soap hostage.
"Are you just going to sing the grime off?" Glorfindel broke the splashing silence, sounding genuinely curious. "You know, you could have shared that skill with us on the way."
Melodious laughter rang in the bathroom. "I wish it were so simple. But," he grinned, "let's enjoy this luxury while I can, before Elrond's king banishes me for good."
Glorfindel didn't comment, just sank deeper into the water to wet his head. Lazily detangling his braids and combing them with his fingers, he listened to Maglor's humming, when his cousin suddenly started singing.
Don't tell me off
Don't look that way
I only wish
To wash this mud away
It's not a crime
To wash the grime!
It's only fair
To wash your hair
And friends or foes
Do not forget the toes!
It's not a crime
To wash the grime!
And wash the face
Cause in that case
It is a thing
To meet the king!
It's not a crime
To wash the grime!
Silly improvised song finished, Maglor tossed the soap back to Glorfindel, who was by now laughing out loud and almost missed it. "Have mercy, cousin!" he cried. "Had you been playing flute, it would have been me taking it away from you."
"No such thing is going to happen," Maglor snorted and sobered up. He stayed motionless, letting the water rinse his hair, while Glorfindel washed himself. The silly mood was gone as quickly as unexpectedly it had appeared, leaving them in silence for a while.
It didn't last long either. As the water began to cool, Maglor pushed himself up from and tugged around himself one of the fluffy towels Glorfindel had brought. "I wonder what made Ereinion agree to you bringing me here," he mused.
"I told you already. Ereinion is not a fool and he knows he could use Fëanáro's potential to aid his preparations for war," Glorfindel shrugged and reached for a towel as well. "But good luck trying to make your father do anything once he's set his mind into something else," Glorfindel tossed back his wet hair and flashed a cheeky smile. "I suspect Ereinion didn't think we would actually succeed."
"Too bad for him." Maglor wiped his face and picked the shirt Glorfindel offered him. "For the bath alone, I can't say I'm sorry I have come!" He let the grim bearing disappear and for a moment he looked younger and happier as dried his hair. The impression was fleeting, though. "You're taller than me," he observed and cuffed the sleeves so they would not slide down his wrists. He then folded his worn clothes and retrieved his belt and hilt. He was about to fasten it around his waist, when Glorfindel stopped him.
"Maglor. Please leave your sword here."
The hand dropped, but Maglor tensed.
"No one will disturb your privacy here and I don't think anyone would dare to go through your belongings," Glorfindel said softly, "but if you are worried, you can leave your sword in my rooms. It will be safe there until you return to retrieve it."
Maglor considered his offer. "And if the king commands you otherwise, will you give it back to me?" he asked. "You don't look that much of a rebel, cousin," he smirked, weighting the sword balanced perfectly on the palm of his hand. Looking his cousin in the eye, Maglor snatched his hand away, and, with a blurring movement too fast to follow, caught it by the hilt with a small flourish.
Glorfindel kept the blazing gaze, unperturbed. "I shall return what is yours at your request and that much I will tell Gil-galad. Then he can do however he pleases. But I think it would be nice display of good will if you went unarmed."
"Do not think I doubt your intentions, cousin," Maglor inclined his head slightly. "I am used to rely on myself and more often than not on that blade. And you know well that old habits die hard."
"I do," Glorfindel nodded and took the sword from Maglor, heading towards the doors leading to his quarters. "Let's find out what Elrond has decided."
xxx
Fëanáro would never admit it aloud, but he was weary. After the weeks of travelling there were certain faces he didn't really wish to see just now, but even more so - that of the king. So when Elrond mentioned he would settle with Ereinion the matter of Maglor's presence in the city, he was more than willing to leave it to the king's herald. He had another way in mind to spend the rest of the day.
Celebrimbor might have been gone, back in Ost-in-edhil, but there were still people of his guild in the city, ones willing to let him into his grandson's old workshops, some of them even thrilled with the prospect of having him working alongside them. Fëanáro used this possibility eagerly. He yearned to work, to hold a hammer and beat away the frustration of the journey.
If he was to stay here longer, he was going to need a place of his own. A matter to settle with Ereinion, out of politeness if not convenience and common sense, considering that there were still some who wished him far away. But for now Fëanáro was content to use the forge which was designed by his grandson, although Celebrimbor's way of keeping things was different from the one he was used to.
Having made sure he knew where to find everything, Fëanáro dismissed a few smiths who clearly were more interested in him than in an actual work. It bode well for the future, a promise of cooperation in larger projects which would require many elves involved. Now, however, Fëanáro wished for nothing more than to be left alone.
He was in no hurry. Elrond had said that Ereinion was probably going to discuss Maglor's presence the next afternoon and after having spent several weeks in each other's company, each of them deserved some time alone. Maglor seemed content with Glorfindel's company, last Fëanáro had seen them. Not that he would have preferred his father instead.
Huffing in frustration, Fëanáro let out a sigh. It was not why he had come here, to dwell endlessly on the matter that tore his heart apart, but didn't look like it was going to be fixed anytime soon. He had come with something else in mind.
Having the fire lit and the tools prepared, Fëanáro reached to his bag and retrieved the pieces of the dagger he had found in Himring, carefully wrapped in a linen cloth. The blade had already been cleaned of dust. Rust would not bite a blade made by a Noldor smith, let alone as skilled as Curufin had been, but it was dull, still in a need of final polishing. Planning the way the hilt would be finished had been Fëanáro's way of spending several evenings when the silence between Maglor and him had become insufferable. He now unfolded the sketches he had made and, setting for one of the few designs, he ventured out to get necessary stones and silver.
His head cleared as he felt the heat and heard the cracking singing of the fire. Before he knew it, he was already lost in work, the beat of his heart and the rhythm of the hammer becoming one. The steel rang with familiar tune and Fëanáro felt as if he could see his son forging this dagger along with many others, doubtlessly ever in need of weapons in such a stronghold as Himring had once been. The dagger would no longer be Curufin's, yet he doubted his son would mind, since it would be of use rather than laying forgotten.
As the blade was sharpened and Fëanáro moved on to the delicate art of setting the gems in the hand of the dagger, his thoughts turned again to the grim future that probably awaited them. If they were right about the upcoming war, more weapons were going to be needed. The dagger was a fine piece of work and there was a certain beauty in a sharpened steel, deadly and precise yet elegant, but Fëanáro would rather spend his time on other creations. Gems and crystals were the field he had thrived on and he would rather settle for this branch of forging, yet his skills would probably be needed.
Checking if the rubies and sapphires he had chosen were firmly set, Fëanáro smiled to himself at the urge he felt to make something a simple as a lamp. It was one of his basic yet most commonly used inventions, except perhaps the tengwar. He wouldn't mind obtaining one for himself, one that would be to his taste, unlike the lamps in his quarters, so as he already had the hearth working, Fëanáro reached for one of the boxes piled on the shelf above the table in search for appropriate crystal.
He worked swiftly, as the design was not new. It didn't take long to recreate the setting for the and prepare the base for the crystal, one that would be twin to his favorite lamp he had used to keep on his desk. It would be nice to add a personal touch to the place that was probably going to be his home for some time.
The crystal lamps brought forth another of his projects, one that had not been entirely finished. He still remembered the thrill of the research he had done back then, in Valinor. The work had been interesting, and the outcome, had he succeeded, would open a new range of possibilities considering communication. Sadly, he never had a chance to finish that project. But perhaps he could recreate what he had already achieved and continue his studies?
The concept would not leave him throughout the work and the cleaning that came after. Fëanáro rushed with the tedious tasks that were inevitable part of working in the forge, eager to sit and write down all that he could remember from his old studies. He doubted he would find anything of use in the libraries in Lindon, so he would have to rely on his memory only. Not that it could discourage him.
With the fresh idea in mind, and a finished lamp in hand, Fëanáro left the forge and headed for his quarters. He would have to speak with Ereinion about making a workshop for himself.
xxx
Maglor exited Gil-galad's study first, a sour turn of his mouth as he turned to look at Elrond and Glorfindel.
"That went better than I expected." Glorfindel spoke into the silence first.
"You have low expectations," Maglor groused at his cousin. "So now what, Elrond? I await a decision from the council or slow death by boredom in house arrest?"
"Neither, as you heard." Elrond began walking and as Maglor fell in next to him said, "You've been remanded into my custody."
Glorfindel lengthened his stride and passed up the pair, going ahead and making sure no one else coming their way would try to waylay Maglor.
"So I'm tied to your apron strings." Mouth twitching into a grimace, Maglor shook his head. "How things turn around."
"I wouldn't say you're tied to me." Elrond gestured to a door and as Glorfindel opened and held it, walked through to a book-lined study where a cheery fire burned in the fireplace. There were comfortable chairs placed near it, and nearer the balcony, a desk, strewn with books and papers and a Feanorian lamp. He turned at the fireplace and watched as Maglor paced to the balcony to look out. Glorfindel stood by the door, watching them both. "Glorfindel is also under my agency and as such can also escort you."
"And Fëanáro wanders around at will?"
"Not entirely," Glorfindel murmured with a look to Elrond.
"Of course not." Rubbing at his forehead, Elrond sat. "Maglor, it went well. The king cannot allow you complete freedom, if only for your own safety."
"My safety?" Snorting a derisive laugh, Maglor turned. "I would say rather his concern is for his citizens."
"You are in Harlond now. You are his concern as you knew when you agreed to come with us."
"Yes, so you keep reminding me." Wandering over, Maglor sat and shook his head. "I don't like it." He met Elrond's gaze. "If I choose to leave, what will he do?"
"He gave you his word that you may leave when you wish, so long as no laws are broken."
"Mmmhmm." Staring into the fire, Maglor went silent.
Elrond stood and went to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I am pleased you came. I know this is not easy, but my goal is only to keep you safe from any who harbor old grudges."
Blowing out a long sigh, Maglor put his hand on Elrond's and squeezed. "I know, and I am pleased to be with you again, Elrond, but I cannot promise that I will be able to remain. City walls loom tall in my mind after too long."
"I'll go get some food." Glorfindel said into the long pause. "Any special requests?"
"Wine."
Elrond nodded. "Thank you, Glorfindel."
Inclining his head, Glorfindel left the two and closed the door behind him. He hoped his cousin would relax in the company of Elrond, and took the long way towards the kitchens.
END OF PART ONE
A/N
The story is not yet over, far from it, but we have reached a point where some plots have been resolved and new ones await. We will be back with Part Two here, in this same story.
Thank you for reading.
