“Excuse me,” asked Glorfindel as he approached a rather tired looking elf sitting on half of an overturned barrel that was pulled up to a larger half-barrel that served as a table, “but I am looking for a fellow named Galion. Would you happen to know where I might find him?”
“There is no need to search for what you have already found.”
Glorfindel cocked an eyebrow, for while riddles were a favorite game of Hobbits, it was less likely to hear them spoken by those of Elvenkind. “Pleased to meet you, though we may have met before.”
“Aye, you are the slayer of Rivendell,” said Galion. He was uncorking a bottle of liquor, and from the trouble he was having with it, it was doubtful this was the first he had acquainted himself with that evening. “Well met again, friend. What might I do for you?”
“I came to deliver a message to you from my companion. Erestor is not feeling up to meeting with you, but will contact you soon. He sends his best regards and his apologies this evening,” said Glorfindel.
“A shame! I had hoped to share a bowl of wine with him,” said Galion. “Ah, but I suppose you would not humor me so to tell me the tales of the lands that lie beyond our forests?”
Glorfindel really had no plans for the evening. With Erestor asleep and Estel occupied by Legolas (he found they had not managed beyond kittens and the great deer), there was little reason for him to go back to the room at the moment. He did not really know where else he could go to. “I could give you an update.”
“Oh! How proper you Rivendell folk are. An update, indeed, I would like that.” Galion nodded towards the stack of barrels that had been cut into halves that were in a corner. “Pull up a chair and tell me what news of Rivendell.”
Glorfindel selected the barrel that looked to have the least amount of dust or mildew and placed it beside the table across from where Galion was sitting. “Let me see,” he said as he tried to make himself comfortable. The way that the barrel was constructed did not allow it to serve well as a seat, and so Glorfindel found himself sliding his leg this way and adjusting his thigh that way, all while trying to think of what he could tell Galion that would be interesting. “Lord Elrond’s son Estel turned ten recently. He traveled with us,” added Glorfindel as Galion spat a spray of liquid out of his mouth in surprise. Luckily for Glorfindel, he had turned his head to the side before he did so. “Uhm... we keep fighting orcs,” he continued, unsure of whether or not to stop.
“Your pardon, sir, but please do go back a moment, sir,” said Galion. “Lord Elrond’s good wife Lady Celebrian, bless the woman’s poor soul, has been gone across the sea for many a century,” said Galion as if he were informing Glorfindel of something that the Rivendell elf did not know.
Glorfindel nodded.
“Has she traveled back upon one of those great swan ships I saw once in the harbors of Lindon?”
Glorfindel shook his head. “Lady Celebrian is not young Estel’s mother.”
“Oh, my...” Galion shook his head. “No offense to you, sir, but our King, His Majesty, long may he live, would never think to take another wife for himself! Even if his good Queen were dead, and long may that dear, sweet lady live in Valinor, he would wait for her to return to him or follow her into those unknown depths of Mandos! Oh, woe, for dear, dear Lady Celebrian!” Galion seemed to think this was an opportunity for another bowl of wine, and so poured one for himself. “Care for a drink?” he asked after a sip.
“Erm... I suppose,” said Glorfindel. He really wanted to clear Elrond’s name, but at the same time the complexity of the situation prevented him from saying anything. Furthermore, he was not sure he should be saying anything of the sort to Thranduil’s servant. Even the chief servant was not typically privy to information of such a private nature. Glorfindel watched as Galion filled another bowl up until it was nearly to the brim of the wooden vessel. “Thank you.”
“Drink up! The wine is good here,” said Galion. “Drink,” he said again when Glorfindel hesitated.
The blond gingerly placed his fingers around the bowl and lifted it up carefully. “I usually do not drink so much at one sitting,” said Glorfindel before taking a sip from the bowl. It was sweet, like rare nectar found only on certain moonlit nights, and it went right to his head as he licked his lips. “I suppose I might make an exception.”
“Good! And if you are unable to finish, I can help you,” offered Galion. He was already refilling his own bowl again. “So, you are here for the voting,” he said. “That should be interesting.”
“Yes, it should be,” agreed Glorfindel, but for what reason he did not know. It suddenly hit him that Galion would be the perfect person to explain to him just what was going on. “So, when the voting occurs, that will be everyone in the realm, right?”
“Correct,” Galion confirmed. “Well, not the children. Not the convicts, either. I do not think we can risk allowing them out. Too many of them escape already – no need to give them extra help in doing it.”
“You have a lot of prisoners escape?” asked Glorfindel.
“All the time,” said Galion. “Oh, but do not tell the King that I told you – he would be awfully upset. He likes to keep that unspoken about. It happens so often, it is a wonder we have any prisoners at all.”
“How do they escape if you do not mind my asking?”
Galion drank deeply from his bowl. “Oh, they get creative. Some of them dig tunnels. Some of them find ways to cut the bars. Some of them turn themselves into other animals and get through that way.”
“Pardon, did you say they change into animals?” Glorfindel wondered just how much wine Galion had earlier in the evening.
“Oh, indeed! Some of them change into rats and some change into birds. When we catch them, they always need to explain how they escaped, and you would be surprised how many different things people have turned into. Bats, mice, even a skunk once. Convincing, too,” he added with disdain.
Glorfindel pushed the bowl of wine forward a little so that it was not so close to him. “I think some of them are lying to you,” he said as he swirled the wine with his finger and then sucked the few droplets off. It was too compelling, and he brought the bowl back, just a taste, and instead, found himself draining it.
“But how else can you explain them getting out without anyone knowing or seeing? The doors are locked, there are no holes in the walls or floors.” Galion nodded. “We have some very clever prisoners here in Greenwood.” He uncorked another bottle. “More wine?”
“No, thank you.” Glorfindel glanced at the floor, where there were six empty bottles already. “In fact, I should be going,” he decided as he stood and swayed a little.
“Come back again to visit soon!” called out Galion as Glorfindel tried to remember which way was the way would return him back. After a few inquiries, he learned he was no so far away from where he wanted to be. While the wine had relaxed him, he was not exactly tired yet and knew he would just lie awake to stare at the ceiling and hope there were no spiders in the very dark room.
Instead of going back to the quarters he was assigned to, Glorfindel decided to venture down one of the heavily guarded tunnels to the far north of the dungeon level. He passed by a pair of guards who were stationed at either side of the tunnel, waiting for them to stop him. Neither did, but they both followed him with their eyes. A little further down the tunnel was another post of guards, and a third speaking with an officer. The officer was not armored like the rest, so his hair was half tied back, the rest loose, and no helmet covered his head. He, like the others, watched as Glorfindel strolled by. “Anything we can help you with, m’lord?” he asked, and Glorfindel did turn and pause.
“I was just wondering what is beyond the end of this passageway.”
The officer, a captain, Glorfindel could see now from the medallion that fastened his cloak, came forward so that they could better see each other. “Nothing of interest,” said the captain carefully. “If you like, I can direct you to the smoke rooms, or the gentleman’s open parlour. There is a billiards tournament this evening.”
“No, thank you.” Glorfindel turned his head to look down the passage. “How not of interest is it down there?”
The captain stepped around to block Glorfindel’s path, but he did a poor job of it. Glorfindel was not particularly tall compared to many, but he was taller than this fellow. He was also broader of shoulder, and it was obvious that the soldider standing before him was a lithe archer, not a man for the frontlines. In fact, he looked as if he spent more time in an office than in the field, from lack of scars or dark circles beneath his eyes. “Nothing that is worth making the journey,” said the captain. “If you like, we have a conservatory – there may be someone there yet, playing harp or for conversation...” The captain sighed. “If you are going to go that way, at least allow me to assign one of my men to guide you.”
“What is down there that I would need accompaniment?” Glorfindel’s voice was becoming terse, and he did not appreciate the cryptic answers he was receiving. The wine was probably not helping. When no reply came, Glorfindel stepped around the officer. “Good evening,” he said, continuing on his way. “I think I can handle myself.” He could almost hear the captain flailing behind him from the way the guards murmured and shuffled uncertainly.
To block the sounds behind him, Glorfindel whistled as he walked down the passage, noticing how the tunnel became narrower and darker, with guards posted closer and closer together. Finally, there was a district post and a sign that warned that one was leaving the kingdom proper. The officer here narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as he watched Glorfindel pass. There was a light ahead, and Glorfindel followed after it. The passage widened; it became more evident that there was activity. Music. Talking. Life.
Glorfindel entered out of the darkness and into a part of Mirkwood he did not even know existed. A camel was led across the path before him as he stepped out into the light, which was not very bright at all, but hurt his eyes compared to the darkness he had been in. Glorfindel watched in amazement, but not for long. There was too much to see, and he ventured further into the area to see more.
From first glance, it reminded him of the lesser market of Gondolin on evenings of the festivals. On those nights, the markets stayed open late, sometimes into the morning of the next day. Tents were lit by colorful lanterns and Feanorian crystals, and firefly candles, which were hollow tubing around the edges of the tent frame that were filled with flittering fireflies. Here, there were no crystals, but the lanterns were present, and the fireflies were larger and dangerous looking with their barbs. Glorfindel was glad in knowing that they were within the tubes and not able to sting him.
There were jugglers, and firebreathers, and other street performers with their hats held out and their pockets seemingly empty from the looks they gave. Glorfindel realized how overdressed he was for this venue, but he doubted he was in danger with the sword strapped to his hip.
He spied a vendor selling sweets and simple pleasures, and he walked over to investigate. Before he could reach his destination, he was intercepted. “Good evening, handsome stranger,” said a woman with unusually pale eyes. She was Elven, or appeared so, but her movements put Glorfindel on edge. “So good to see surface dwellers here.”
Glorfindel smiled politely. “Good evening. I suppose my amazement gave me away.” He settled a hand into his pocket, keeping it clutched to his coin purse. “Could you tell me, when does the market close?”
“Oh... we never close. Always open,” she said, slipping an arm through his. She seemed to almost slither up beside him. “Is there anything I can help you find?”
There were so many things that caught Glorfindel’s eye, but he considered in that moment that he had rather upset Gildor by accepting the task to come to Greenwood and leave Imladris after their brief reunion. “Perhaps…”
“Something special for a someone special?” she purred.
“Sure,” agreed Glorfindel. “Not too fancy, just..”
“Nice,” offered the lady, an arm snaking around Glorfindel’s hip.
“Mmm..” Glorfindel blinked twice. The wine was certainly stronger than he expected. “Something unique.”
“What about one of those?” She nodded her head to a nearby stall and Glorfindel looked to see a vendor selling carved boar tusks. “Each one is just a little different – a nice souvenir,” she suggested, and Glorfindel nodded. “Normally, they charge between ten and twenty silver for them, but I think I can negotiate for you. I can probably get it for you for three or four, so if you have five, then I should have no trouble in getting you a deal.”
“Excellent,” said Glorfindel. “Let us see what you can do.” He started to lead their way over, but the lady stopped him, swerving around so she blocked his way.
“Oh, no, no, if they see you, they will know you are not from around here and charge you double," she warned. “Best to give me the money and I will sort it all out for you.” She held out her palm and smirked when Glorfindel deposited five coins in it. “Wait right here,” she crooned just before she slid away and disappeared in the crowd.
Glorfindel frowned and looked about. He wanted to watch from a distance, but it was as if the woman had vanished completely. As Glorfindel was trying to figure out what was going on, he saw someone at the end of one of the tunnels look towards him, pause, and step back. After a minute of observation, the elf who was watching quickly came closer and jogged up to where Glorfindel was standing. “Good evening, Glorfindel,” said the elf in fluent Quenya. “Can I assist you?”
“I was just visiting Galion,” said Glorfindel. He was searching the crowd in hopes of finding the woman whom he had just spoken to. He felt someone grasping his arm, and looked to see that it was the elf who had approached him.
Ilmendin gave his arm a gentle but firm tug in the direction he had come from. “I think you might find something more interesting over here,” said the crowned prince as he led Glorfindel away from the dark, bustling area into a better lit part of the caves. As they continued on, Ilmendin sped his pace. “I am sure you can speak with Galion in the morning.”
“I already spoke with him,” admitted Glorfindel. “But then I was stopped by someone selling their wares, but after I paid her she seems to have forgotten about me...” He was still glancing over his shoulder in hopes of seeing her.
“Yes, well, I will deal with her in the morning. What did you pay her?” asked Ilmendin.
“Five silver pieces, nothing exceedingly extravagant, but I might have liked to have known what happened to her,” Glorfindel said.
Ilmendin began to slow their pace as they rounded the corner. “I very much doubt you shall ever see her again,” he told Glorfindel. “It is likely she has disappeared off into one of the caves further underground. I will see what I can do to recover your money in the morning. In the meantime,” advised Ilmendin, “I would suggest that you stay out of that area. You are much better off on the upper level. Why did you venture down there anyhow?”
“I promised Erestor that I would deliver a message to Galion,” Glorfindel explained. Ilmendin rolled his eyes to this. “I spent a little while with Galion, but he...” Not wanting to expose the butler, Glorfindel said, “He wanted to retire for the evening.”
“Drunk again,” sighed Ilmendin. “Some days, I wonder why my father keeps him around.”
“Well... he...” Glorfindel frowned. “What goes on down there? It was so... different from the rest of Greenwood,” said Glorfindel. “I never expected that to happen.”
“Be glad you were only taken for a few coins,” said Ilmendin. “We have had visitors who have had their entire purses stolen in seconds.” Glorfindel immediately placed a hand upon the pouch in his pocket to be assured that it remained there. “Sometimes, guests themselves never return from the winding roads. If they had known who you really are… “ Ilmendin shook his head. “I wish that we could do more, but Greenwood is so vast. The tunnels go in so many directions, and some of them round in circles. At one time, things were better even in the poorer parts of the region, but now we have poverty in so many places it is difficult to keep up. You were really in the worst of it, right near the prison. We have a lot of ex-prisoners in that area, and their families. Some people will do just about anything in that area. I am glad that I found you.”
“So am I... is there nothing that can be done?” asked Glorfindel.
“We try. Honestly, we try. The trouble is, we have such an assortment in that area, and some of them have bred with orcs.”
“Orcs? Half-orcs?” Glorfindel shuddered. “How?”
“The evil has moved into our homelands now,” said Ilmendin. It is so close, and there are times that it is overpowering. We have simply learned to accept it. Sometimes, orcs seduce our own. Sometimes, one is injured and pity is taken upon them. Who can explain how one decides who to love? In the darkness of the caves, does it matter what one looks like? The orcs were elves once, and some wish they were still. It worries my father, and it worries me, but we fight the battles we can win. We have soldiers who will fight with us against the darkness, and keep orcish wives and half-orc children in their homes. All I can say is, please, be safe, stay with us inside the kingdom.”
“I think I am going to stay on this side of Greenwood,” said Glorfindel as they passed by a banner that announced their arrival back into the king’s court. “I like to think that I could handle just about anything, but in reality I am not wishing to become lost in some of those other parts of the caves.”
