The group, which began with three, now numbered eleven. Erestor was the self-appointed headmaster, while Fingon was something of an advisor to the project. Mahtan was busily getting the crafting halls into shape so that they would be useful for the incoming students, and two of the newest additions to the team, Amarie and Finrod spent their time making lists of what was needed in the barracks and what could be salvaged. Orophin and Haldir took up the duties of building and painting, and Beleg aided them when he was not assessing the game and fields. Enedrion was only there half of the time; he had taken up the task of recruiting others and getting the word out to potential students. Galugil, Maglor’s wife, and Glorfindel had not been able to adopt specific roles, but helped however they could be of use, knowing that they would be most helpful when it came to the fine tuning of the school. More and more, Greyson spent time outdoors and away from the Elves.
“I still think calling it Sarati School is deceptive,” said Erestor. They were gathered around a bonfire made of some of the ruined and rotted benches and bed frames from the barracks. “I do intend to teach Sarati, but I prefer a name that encompasses the mission of the school.”
“What is the mission of the school?” asked Galugil. “I know it is a creative atmosphere you are seeking, but is there something else you want to concentrate on besides that?”
“Just the idea of everyone being able to be creative and accepting of others and… I want it to be a sanctuary of sorts,” explained Erestor. “I.. I want it to be better for others than it was for me,” he admitted. He looked away, and Glorfindel put an arm around him comfortingly. “I want it to be a safe haven.”
“I like that name,” spoke Finrod.
“What name?” wondered his cousin.
“Haven. We should call this place Haven. If that is what you want it to be, then we should make it that, and we should call it that,” said Finrod. “I think Haven is very good for.. future changes. If you want it to be more than a school, since I get the feeling that it may have purpose not only for those attending, but for those who will be teaching as well.”
“Are you going to be exclusive to Vanyar and Noldor?” asked Fingon. “I know that the reason for that back in the beginning had to do with the fact that the Teleri did not set foot into the mainland—“
“A few of them did,” Erestor reminded Fingon. “They were just very rare. I do not want any exclusivity, though.”
“If that is the case, then I have to ask why you would hold auditions at all.” Fingon stared off in the distance for a moment, and then looked back. “Why not offer the opportunity to anyone, limit the number of years they can be here, and then put others on a waiting list. Then they need not reapply. If there is someone who seems to be a truly terrible fit, then exclude them. However, the reason Sarati eventually closed had to do with the availability of other schooling opportunities, did it not?”
“It was something like that,” said Erestor. “A combination of more schools and tutors being available, some parents decided to have governesses and live-in scholars for their own children – well, Feanor was a perfect example of that. He was enrolled in the school but he employed two of his fellow classmates to teach his children.”
“Yes, I know,” smirked Fingon.
Erestor nodded slowly. “Right. Sorry. Sometimes I act very old and forgetful. I am allowed,” he declared as the others chuckled softly.
“Fingon has a very good point,” agreed Enedrion. “If you do not want to be exclusive, why exclude anyone?”
“Are there any elements you want to keep?” asked Haldir. “Or, do you just want to start fresh? No one said you had to follow everything exactly.”
Erestor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I think if I start over completely, I am going to have a lot of work to do. Perhaps I can.. modify things using the suggestions that are being given. There must be ways to prevent the negativity of the old system.”
“Do you want to keep the houses?” asked Enedrion. “That was always a very big part of it all.”
“Right. I think..” Erestor frowned. “There needs to be some sort of structure.”
“True, but I think you might have thrived had you been able to choose your own house. Instead, you were somewhat forced to be in a house where everyone else was bullying you,” Enedrion pointed out.
“I know, I know.” Erestor shook his head. “There must be a better way about it. I do not want to allow the students to decide on their own, though. I think there needs to be something in place. And I do not think that doing it randomly is good, either.”
“So would the interview be to allow the students to talk about what they most enjoy, and from that you would then place them in houses?” asked Fingon.
Enedrion shrugged. “Now we are back to the old method.”
“The old method also restricted things like what gender someone was. I was not allowed into the houses that I would have done better in because I did not balance the demographics of the house I should have been in,” said Erestor.
“I think you were more suitable than others might have been,” said Enedrion in disagreement. “However, I do see your point. Perhaps instead of restricting house to what they would do, the houses function more as a family unit. A place to go in order to get mentoring and spend time with others away from classes.”
“Why have houses? You could just let people establish their own sorts of groups,” suggested Orophin. “You might have six in one and eighteen in another, but if that is what everyone wants—“
“And you will run the risk of having someone who is all alone,” Fingon argued. “I doubt that is going to aid anyone.”
“Some people like being alone,” said Haldir.
“That seems to limit the purpose. If everyone just does their own thing,” said Galugil, “then what need do you have for the structure of a school. You could just have this be a workplace for anyone, and let them come and go as they please.”
Erestor rubbed his head, unable to get a word in as the conversation bounced back and forth. At the first break, he stood up abruptly. “I think I am going to retire for the evening,” he said wearily. “If anyone wishes to discuss this further, perhaps we can schedule a formal council.”
Following Erestor’s departure, several others went back into the house as well. Eventually, only Finrod, Fingon, and Enedrion remained. “I hate to seem nosy,” began Finrod, “but did Erestor not have a particularly pleasant time when he was enrolled here?”
“There were good things, but there were also a lot of bad things. We were all tied in for twelve years,” explained Enedrion. “He had problems early on, but it was isolated at first to the fact that he – and I – had both reached our majority. Everyone else in our class was under fifty. There were many upper classmembers who were younger than we were. He was not as good at adapting to the idea that people younger than he was should have more responsibilities and power than he did. After some things in his personal life became known, he was marked.”
“Marked?” asked Finrod.
“Targeted,” revised Enedrion. “He could not eat in the hall without someone making a comment, or just looking at him and laughing. He did have some friends, and I think things may have been worse had it not been for Feanaro. A lot of the students were afraid that Feanaro would send his father after them or something. Erestor was his best friend, and these children were not stupid. That being said, they were still children.”
“Why would he want to come back here, then?” asked Fingon. “I dealt with the arrogance of youth when I was a competitive athlete. I have had no desire to return to any of those places. In fact, when I retired from competition, I was given an opportunity to coach. I just could not deal with the way things were run, so I left.”
“I think that is why Erestor is doing this. He wants to create something that keeps everything that was good about the school and gets rid of everything negative. At least, he wants to try to suppress the negativity.” Enedrion tossed another rotted chair leg onto the waning fire. “He has some utopic idea in his head, but he is still trying to express what it is.”
“This is seeming like.. like a way to get back at the bullies he was facing,” analyzed Finrod. “I am not sure if this is the best way to go about that.”
“I am not sure why he should care so much after all these years,” added Fingon. “Like I said, I just avoid my demons.”
“Do you ever talk to anyone about them?” asked Finrod.
Fingon tilted his head to one side and then the other, and then back again. “Sometimes?” He added a shrug. “I talk about the parts that really got to me. Mostly I did that with Turgon. He was a good listener. Sometimes I talked to Aredhel about it, too. I think I know where you are going next on this from that look you are giving me,” he said as he pointed at Finrod.
“You had support,” Finrod said. “I had siblings to talk to; I had parents to talk to. I had a lot of friends to talk to. All of us had that. Erestor sort of had Uncle Feanor; he also sort of had my sister.”
“Did he now?” muttered Fingon, and Finrod reached out and slapped his shoulder without further comment. “Yes, I see what you mean. He was very isolated; he had few friends. Eventually, he was just.. when your sister left, he was basically just a hermit living in a farmhouse, right?”
“Right.” Finrod frowned. “And then after everything with the silmarilli being stolen, he suddenly showed up in Middle-earth. We know he did not come across on the ice with all of us, and I highly doubt he was on the ships.”
“He might have been,” remarked Fingon.
“Possibly, but then why was he not at Maglor’s camp when we got there?” Fingon shrugged, and Finrod continued. “Well, that part does not matter. Suffice to say, he spent a very long time all by himself during a bad period of his life. That always seems to be what happens with him.”
Enedrion nodded slowly. “I heard some rumors about what happened to him near the end of the First Age. If any part of it is true..”
“One thing right on top of another,” finished Finrod. “I think someone needs to have a talk with him.”
“I elect you,” said Fingon immediately.
Enedrion agreed. “As do I.”
“Good. Because I was going to do it anyhow.”
-----
Someone was screaming. Whether they were in pain or it was fear was hard to tell, and who it was remained a mystery until Erestor belatedly realized it was his own voice as he grabbed blindly in the dark.
Someone held him up and helped him into a seated position. He grabbed for them, clung to them for a few moments before he shoved them away and silenced his own screams.
By now, everyone was awake and a few were approaching with concern. Glorfindel shook his head and waved them off, but this did not discourage Finrod. “How can I help?” he asked softly as he reached the bed, one leg off, the other knelt on the edge of the mattress.
“He just needs to finish waking up,” apologized Glorfindel. Finrod nodded but did not retreat. “Ress, are you alright? Do you want to try for sleep again?” He rubbed Erestor’s shoulder as he waited for an answer.
For a moment it seemed that Erestor was going to try to settle back into bed, but he shook his head and pushed away again. “I need to get out of here,” he muttered. He shoved the blanket away and tried to get up. He winced as soon as he put weight on his legs, and both Glorfindel and Finrod started to move closer to him in case he should fall.
“Would you like me to come with you?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor sat back down on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “Are you sure? You look like you can use company.”
“No, you need to sleep,” decided Erestor.
“I can go downstairs with you,” offered Finrod. “I sleep very little, so I think Amarie would prefer I stop waking her with my tossing and turning.” He smiled. “I feel like an elfling being made to take a long nap.”
For a moment it seemed that Erestor was going to argue, but Glorfindel decided for him. “That would be great. I am tired,” he admitted.
Erestor pulled the top blanket from the bed and put it around his shoulders before he gingerly stepped down and winced. Glorfindel watched but said nothing. It took a minute, but Erestor eventually hobbled out of the room and one by one went down the steps of the spiral staircase until he reached the bottom platform.
Finrod remained behind him, but did not offer aid. If Erestor wanted it, he would ask. Once they were in the sitting room, Finrod rekindled the fire while Erestor settled into one of the chairs with his blanket. There was still a bottle of wine sitting out from the night before. Finrod picked it up and took a drink, then offered it to Erestor, who shook his head.
There was a chair near to the one Erestor was in, and Finrod sat down in it. “I do not think that this school is what you need. I think you need to find yourself.”
Erestor gave Finrod a good, stern look, and then sighed and looked away.
Finrod took another drink from the bottle before he asked, “When was the last time you did something for yourself. Honestly. Not something for Glorfindel or something for another friend or your son or a stranger, but something you did purely because you wanted to?”
Erestor shrugged.
“You cannot remember, can you?” asked Finrod. “Because it always seems as if everything you have your hands in is not because you love it or you are having fun, but because it has to be done for someone else. Or because you think it would benefit someone else.”
Erestor tucked the blanket around his legs and reached down to massage his sore calf muscle. “I am sure I have done something recently.”
Finrod leaned forward and peered intensely at Erestor. “Let me try this. When was the last time you did something without worry over how others were going to perceive it?”
“I am always aware that my behavior is being judged by others. One should appear respectable at all times. Or, as often as they are able,” he added.
“Hmm.” Finrod drummed his fingers on the side of the bottle. “I can usually tell when people are masking their thoughts and emotions. You hide that fact well. But I think you are masking your entire identity. I think you are far too concerned over the reactions of others to who you are. I doubt you could walk up to a mirror and look at your reflection and say ‘I like myself’. In fact, I think you hate yourself, or elements of your being, and I think you self-impose torture upon yourself for it.”
“That is simply not true,” said Erestor.
“Alright, let us try something else. Can you give me three words that you would use to describe yourself?” Finrod waited, but Erestor said nothing. “Do you know why this is so difficult? Because you have your identity, and your perceived identity, and they are constantly at war with each other.”
“I prefer not to talk about this,” said Erestor abruptly.
Finrod leaned back in the chair. “So you admit it is an issue.”
Erestor’s jaw twitched and he stood up. “I think I should go back to bed.”
Finrod declined further comment until Erestor passed by close enough for him to reach out and grab hold of Erestor’s elbow. “You know where to find me when you want to talk. I think you want to, but I think your perceived identity is preventing you for some reason.” He let go, but when he heard Erestor on the steps, he added, “Do this for yourself. Not for Haldir. Because if you are here because of him, you are only setting yourself up for certain disappointment.”
There was a pause, but Erestor did not reply before he ascended the stairs again.
