Chapter Text
Sailors of the ship had barely finished making fast the moored vessel when the first travelers stepped onto the pier and made their way to the platform where friends and family stood in anticipation of the latest ship to arrive. Passengers from Middle-earth were less and less frequent, and the size of this ship gave some the impression that there would be few if any ships to follow.
Galadriel scanned the shore and smiled at all she saw. Her daughter was there, though there was another more important to be greeted by Celebrían first. And so Galadriel made her way to the second most anticipated reunion on her list. “Far too long has it been,” she said as she approached with open arms.
“Friend of all friends,” greeted Finrod as he embraced her. “How I have missed you, sister. I am sure we have much to tell one another.”
Galadriel clung to the familiar and unforgotten figure, resting her head on his shoulder as she had once done when she was a child. “You are well?” she asked, lingering as she basked in the sound of his voice, the scent of sweet vanilla and fresh pastries that came from the orchids he lovingly tended in her younger days, knowing from this that he had returned once again to this pastime once reborn.
“As ever. And you?” Finrod slowly rocked back a step, hands on Galadriel’s shoulders firmly, almost afraid that letting go might cause her to disappear. Then he looked behind her, and frowned. “Where is Celeborn?”
“Still overseas, until Elladan and Elrohir make their choice. Then he shall said with them, or bring news to us all of sadder tidings.” Galadriel, too, looked behind Finrod. “Is Amarië here?”
“We parted on pleasant terms,” said Finrod as his hands slid down slightly.
Once more, Galadriel embraced Finrod. “I am so sorry to hear that.”
“Do not be.” Finrod returned the hug, and when they stepped back again, he kept hold of Galadriel’s hands in his own. “It was better for a little heartache then than much in the future. She remains beloved of me, and I to her.”
Galadriel frowned. “I do not understand.”
“She found a gentleman of good standing and admired him romantically. I shared her desires. As it turned out, he did not fancy me, but was smitten with her. It is a good match.”
“That sounds terrible for you,” consoled Galadriel.
“As I said, I remain on good terms–I was even the officiant at the wedding. We live in the same neighborhood; when they take holiday, I come to feed their cats. When I go on holiday, they tend to my flowers. We all share a bottle of wine every now and then. There is nothing terrible and nothing to apologize for.”
“I hope you shall tell me that you became interested with another who returns the favor?”
Finrod smiled. “Ah, forever the romantic-hearted Artanis. Nay. But worry not. Be sad not. I keep busy with my flowers, for they are my true love and delight.”
“Where are your flowers kept these days? Surely still not at our parents’ estate?”
“I have a special greenhouse now. Within, there are thousands upon thousands of rare orchids. They are simply stunning–I hope to show them to you soon.”
“No matter how much changes, some things stay the same. You will be interested to know that there is someone on the ship with whom you might like to speak,” Galadriel said.
“Oh? Who might that be?”
“I think you might know him,” teased Galadriel, eyes sparkling. “He has dozens on board with him.”
“Orchids?”
“Orchids.”
“From Middle-earth?”
“Found and cultivated there,” confirmed Galadriel.
“I must see them! Who is it, Artanis? Ai, you leave me in such suspense with your smirking!” scolded Finrod.
Galadriel turned around and searched the faces in the crowd. A figure still on the pier caught her eye. “There he is now!”
Standing on the pier, last to leave the ship, Glorfindel cradled a potted plant in his arms as he watched the reunions and meetings with uncertainty.
“Do you recognize him?”
“Is that little Laurefindë?”
“Not so little anymore,” said Galadriel.
“It seems not so long ago that I carried him across the ice on my shoulders,” recalled Finrod.
“It was terrible how his parents both died on the ice, so early, and no one to care for him,” Galadriel said.
“It was fortunate that Turgon was willing to take in all the orphans from the ice.”
“Salgant, Egalmoth, Meleth–so many. And, Glorfindel,” said Galadriel with a motion of her hand.
“He prefers Glorfindel now?” asked Finrod.
Galadriel nodded, and Finrod stepped around her and swiftly walked towards Glorfindel. Galadriel followed.
When Finrod reached the end of the pier, he lifted his arm and called out, “Welcome back to Valinor, Glorfindel!”
“Greetings,” said Glorfindel softly, word almost lost on the waves.
Finrod continued to close the gap, though his final few steps were slower as he found he had to tilt his head to make eye contact. It was not so different from having a discussion with Turgon or Maedhros. “What an exquisite bloom! My sister said you brought many with you. Are they all so vibrant?”
“Each is unique in their own way. I have seventy-four with me from nineteen varieties,” said Glorfindel.
“Seventy-four? At a thousand apiece...and if the colorations are rare as this one–I will offer you one hundred thousand for all, contingent upon inspection, of course.”
Glorfindel drew the orchid in closer. “You wish me to sell them to you?”
“Why, yes! No one has brought any new orchids from Middle-earth in many centuries, and there are few places left to explore here for new plants. I would more than willingly pay you half today, sight unseen, if we can come to an agreement now.” Finrod held out his hand.
“I am sorry, but I could never,” said Glorfindel.
“Two hundred thousand,” said Finrod immediately.
Glorfindel lifted the planter higher, both arms protectively around it. “You seem not to understand.”
“Three hundred and twenty thousand,” said Finrod. “And when I propagate them, I will offer you twenty of the seedlings of your choice at no charge.”
“Ingoldo, they are not for sale.”
“Everything has a price,” countered Finrod.
“Perhaps we should let him get onto land first,” suggested Galadriel.
“They are like my children,” continued Glorfindel. “I brought them here with plans to have a gallery, to view them. If I sell them, then I will have to start over and...I am terribly attached to my flowers. The answer is no. I am sorry.”
“Ah, a gallery. Charging admission to see them is a very good business plan,” commended Finrod.
“No–just to see them. Free of charge. I want to share this beauty with others,” explained Glorfindel.
“That balrog must have given you quite a concussion. That idea will never work here. Four hundred thousand, and fifty seedlings of your choice once they are propagated.”
“This is not about the price,” emphasized Glorfindel. “They are not for sale. I wish not to discuss it any further.”
“Five hundred thousand, one hundred seedlings,” said Finrod hastily.
“Pardon me–we need to clear the pier to bring the luggage to the shore,” said the captain from the ship.
Glorfindel backed his way up on the pier, walked backwards up the gangway, and stepped back onto the vessel. “I am sorry, Ingoldo. The answer is no.” He stepped back aboard and disappeared.
Finrod sighed and Galadriel patted his shoulder. “Maybe he will change his mind,” said Galadriel. “Or maybe he will sell some of them.”
“I am trying to do him a favor,” said Finrod.
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Galadriel.
“You have not been here in some time. Orchids are not just another flower here anymore,” said Finrod. “Orchids are practically a form of currency. The most stolen item in Valinor? Orchids. The most destroyed item in Valinor? Orchids. I have trained wolves who guard my greenhouse when I am not at home.”
“Oh, dear,” fussed Galadriel. “However, it is Glorfindel. I think most people would think twice before they tried to steal a flower from him.”
“Time will tell,” said Finrod.