In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 108: The High King Recovers

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108: The High King Recovers

"How is he?"

Arafinwë looked up from washing Ingwë’s back to see Valandur and Eccaldamos standing at the doorway, their expressions a mixture of concern and anger.

"He’s not doing very well," Arafinwë answered, gesturing for the two to enter. "I had to send Ingwion away with Intarion. The poor ellon was so distraught at what was done to his atar, he was of no use to me. And frankly, I’m not sure what use I am. He needs a healer and I do not have any skill in that regard." He cast them a wry look. "Scraped knees and bloody noses are about all I know how to handle."

The other two ellyn snorted in amusement, but it was short-lived when they saw the High King. "They beat him and then I think they were starving him," Arafinwë said grimly. "Starvation is easily mended. Ingwion should be looking for the kitchen while Intarion goes in search of fresh meat with which to make some broth. That will occupy them both for a time until I can get Ingwë cleaned up. My main concern is that these lashes are festering."

"They’ll need to be cleaned out," Valandur said, "and a poultice made." He turned to Eccaldamos. "There has to be an herb garden somewhere, perhaps in the village. See if you can’t find any asëa aranion and ëarrossë. We’ll need something for the pain as well when he awakens."

Eccaldamos nodded. "I’ll see what I can find and I’ll bring back more hot water as well," he said and left.

"What about the guards?" Arafinwë asked Valandur, who was now helping him remove the encrustation of blood and grime from Ingwë’s back.

"Safely locked up," Valandur replied grimly. "We’ll leave them with enough food and water to last them a week or so if they are careful, but unless we can recruit a Maia or two to look after them, they’ll be on their own and I don’t like the idea of leaving them unguarded."

Arafinwë nodded. "Perhaps something can be arranged," was all he said.

Valandur gave him a considering look, then shrugged. "You’ve grown up, youngling," was all he said and then busied himself with taking the bloody bowl of water and emptying it into the privy. When he returned, he headed for the door. "I’ll go see about the hot water. Do you have enough bandages?"

Arafinwë nodded. "For now. Do me a favor and keep Ingwion away, at least until we have Ingwë cleaned up. Intarion had to practically drag him away from here."

"I’ll do that. If Eccaldamos finds the necessary herbs I’ll set Ingwion to making the poultice," Valandur said as he exited the room, leaving Arafinwë once again alone with the unconscious High King.

****

Eccaldamos returned with more hot water, assuring Arafinwë that the herbs had been found and Ingwion was making up the poultice under Valandur’s watchful eye. "He keeps asking after his atar and then starts ranting about doing terrible things to the guards and even more terrible things to Ingoldo." He shook his head, half in amusement.

Arafinwë snorted as he continued his ministrations. Ingwë did not awaken though occasionally he stirred, moaning slightly whenever Arafinwë had to clean a particularly deep cut. "Ingoldo has much to answer for, certainly, but I doubt he ordered his people to maltreat Ingwë."

"Why do you suppose they did it?" Eccaldamos asked.

Arafinwë shrugged. "Possibly in retaliation," he answered. "I doubt Ingwë sat quietly and meekly accepted his captivity. If I know my uncle, he probably made his guards’ lives miserable and they retaliated in kind."

"It’s obvious we can’t leave until Ingwë is able to," Eccaldamos said, frowning slightly in thought. "If you have everything under control here, I’m going to check out the valley and see what is here, perhaps do a bit of hunting. We’re going to need to replenish our own supplies soon enough. I’ll go back to that copse where we left our bags and retrieve them."

"And if you happen to see Lord Oromë," Arafinwë said with a twinkle in his eyes, "please convey to him our regards and ask what we should do with the guards."

Eccaldamos smiled. "If I happen to see him, I’ll do just that."

****

Valandur returned about an hour later with the poultice and together he and Arafinwë spread it on the worst of the wounds and bound them. "The rest is up to him," Arafinwë said when they were finished.

Valandur nodded. "Ingwion and Intarion are preparing something for us to eat, though I doubt any of us are very hungry. Ingwion is insisting on seeing his atar, but I won’t let him come up here until Ingwë is conscious again."

"Good. When you go back down, assure my cousin that his atar is doing well. Once we get some sustenance down him his condition should improve."

"The broth is being made even now and will be ready whenever Ingwë wakens." He glanced down at the king, his nakedness decently covered with a sheet and sighed. "I hope they did not break his spirit along with his body."

"We’ll have to wait and see and hope for the best," Arafinwë said. "We need Ingwë to be strong if we are to face Ingoldo."

"Well, one thing at a time," Valandur said, giving him a wan smile. "I’ll go back and keep an eye on Ingwion. He’s liable to do something stupid given his state of mind."

With that he left and Arafinwë finished putting away the medicinal supplies before bringing a chair over to the bed and sitting, waiting for Ingwë to wake up.

****

Ingwë opened his eyes and wondered where he was, then realized he was lying in the bed that had been his ever since being taken captive. He closed his eyes in despair. Had it been just a fever-dream, believing that he had been rescued? Had he simply imagined Arafinwë and... and...

"Ingwion," he rasped, suddenly remembering his son.

"He’s not here."

Ingwë turned his head and saw someone sitting by the bed. "Arafinwë," he said, struggling to sit up and gasping with the pain that shot through him.

"Easy now, Uncle," Arafinwë said solicitously, rising to come to his aid. "You’ve been severely beaten but I think in time you will heal."

"Wh-where’s Ingwion?" Ingwë pleaded as he allowed Arafinwë to help him sit up while the ellon rearranged the pillows so he could lean back.

"He’s downstairs," Arafinwë replied. "He and Intarion are being kept occupied with kitchen duties." He gave Ingwë a smile.

Ingwë blinked, trying to understand Arafinwë’s words. "Intarion? Where’s Ingil?"

"Ingalaurë is in Vanyamar," Arafinwë answered quietly, handing Ingwë a goblet of water which the king took greedily. "He’s taking care of Elindis and Indil."

Ingwë lowered the goblet, frowning. Something was wrong. He needed to tell Arafinwë something, something to do with Elindis but his mind was too fuzzy with pain and the thought eluded him. He leaned back with a sigh, feeling defeated.

"We need to get some broth down you," he heard Arafinwë say. "I’m going to have some brought up. I’ll be back shortly."

Ingwë heard the ellon move away from the bed and opened his eyes. "Where are we?" he asked.

Arafinwë turned around in surprise. "You do not know?"

Ingwë shook his head. "They never said, but...."

"Formenos," Arafinwë replied. "We’re in Formenos. From what I can gather, this used to be Atar’s bedroom, or possibly Fëanáro’s. It’s hard to know for sure when we’ve found no personal items lying about." He gave Ingwë a diffident shrug. "I’ll be right back with the broth."

With that, he opened the door and made his way out, leaving Ingwë to ponder many things.

****

He must have fallen asleep waiting for Arafinwë to return, for the next thing he knew, someone was gently shaking him.

"Atto."

Ingwë opened his eyes and smiled when he saw his son sitting on the edge of the bed. "Ingwi," he whispered.

"Oh, Atto, how could they do this to you!" his son cried and to Ingwë’s bemusement the ellon burst into tears, laying his head on Ingwë’s chest. Ingwë awkwardly patted him on the back.

"It’s all right, Ingwi," he said. "I deserved it."

"What?!!" Ingwion demanded, sitting up, his tears forgotten in his anger. "What do you mean, you deserved it. No one deserves what they did to you!"

"But I did," Ingwë pleaded, trying to make his son understand. "I’m a bad king. I deserved to be punished."

Ingwion’s expression mutated from anger to disbelieving horror. Watching the play of emotions on his son’s face was almost funny and if he’d not been so weak, he might have laughed.

"You are not a bad king, Ingwë. Don’t ever think that."

Ingwë turned to see Arafinwë standing there with a tray in his hand on which sat a bowl. The scent of beef told him it was the broth he’d been promised and he could feel his mouth salivating with the thought of having food again.

"But I am," Ingwë insisted, "else why am I here? Why have I been imprisoned?"

"Is that what they told you?" Arafinwë asked, putting the tray down on a nearby table. "Is that what the guards said as they beat you senseless?" The tone was cold and forbidding and even Ingwion stared at his cousin in shock. Ingwë wasn’t sure how to react to his nephew’s questions.

"They only spoke the truth," he finally said, though even to his own ears he sounded unsure.

Arafinwë snorted. "They lied, Uncle," he replied. "They lied. You are not a bad king. You are the best High King we’ve ever had."

Now Ingwë had to smile, some of his old fire in his eyes. "I’m the only High King you’ve ever had."

"My point exactly," Arafinwë responded with a smile of his own. "You’re the only High King we need or want. Ingoldo is a fool if he thinks otherwise."

"Ingoldo," Ingwë said with a frown. "What has he been doing all this time?"

"Nothing good, I assure you," Arafinwë said, "but for the moment there is naught that either you or I or Ingwion can do about it. Now, let’s see if we can’t get some of this delicious broth that your son made down you."

Ingwë gave Ingwion a surprised look. "You made it?"

Ingwion gave him a sheepish smile. "Eccaldamos helped... and Intarion. I didn’t know Intarion knew anything about cooking." He gave them both a surprised look.

"He’s had many adventures and has learned many things, just as you have," Arafinwë said with an indulgent smile as he brought the bowl over to the bed while Ingwion helped his atar to sit up. Ingwë proved too weak to hold the spoon, so while Arafinwë held the bowl, Ingwion fed his atar. They managed to get half the bowl of broth down him before he decided he did not want any more.

"That’s a good start," Arafinwë said. "We’ll try some more after you’ve had some rest."

"What I want is a bath," Ingwë said, wrinkling his nose.

Arafinwë laughed and Ingwion smirked. "Let’s wait a bit on that, Uncle," Arafinwë said. "Rest for now and when you waken again we’ll see about getting you that bath. I’ll need to change the dressings and apply more poultice by then anyway."

Ingwë started to protest, but was stopped by a jaw-breaking yawn. He gave them a sheepish look. "I guess I’ll take that rest then," he said meekly, and in truth, he was feeling tired again, all of his energy depleted.

"I’ll stay and keep you company, Atto," Ingwion said, helping him to get comfortable before taking the chair that was next to the bed.

Arafinwë nodded in agreement. "And I’ll go and let the others know how you’re doing."

"Others?" Ingwë said sleepily.

"We’ll talk about it later, Uncle," Arafinwë said, gently stroking the High King’s brow. "For now, sleep." And Ingwë did just that.

****

When he woke again, Ingwë realized he was feeling ravenous and more alert, the pain throughout his body only a dull throb. He cautiously moved his body and was pleased to see that the movement did not elicit gasps of pain. He felt sore, but nothing that a hot bath would not cure. His stirring must have alerted Ingwion, for his son was standing over him, his eyes dark with concern.

"Atto?"

Ingwë smiled up at Ingwion. "How about that bath now?" he asked and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

"I’ll go tell Arafinwë you’re awake. Do you feel like something to eat?"

Ingwë nodded, struggling into a sitting position, pleased that he was able to do so without too much trouble, though he gratefully accepted Ingwion’s help. "Yes. I’m feeling quite hungry."

"Good," Ingwion said. "I’ll tell Arafinwë and while you’re eating I’ll see about drawing a hot bath for you. I’ll be back shortly. Are you all right alone?"

"Yes, yonya," Ingwë said with some amusement, "I’m quite all right. Go. I’ll be fine."

Ingwion leaned down and gave him a kiss on his brow. "I’ll be back shortly," and he was gone.

Ingwë lay there waiting, his thoughts drifting. There was something he thought he should tell Arafinwë and Ingwion, something important, but the thought eluded him and he finally gave up. He felt himself falling asleep again, but just then there was a bustling at the door and he opened his eyes to see Ingwion returning along with Arafinwë. Ingwion was carrying a tray with more broth but this time there was also a slice of soft bread to go with it.

Arafinwë came over to the bed and gave him a considering look. "I’m not sure a bath is a good idea at this time, for your wounds are still healing, but I have a feeling I’m going to be overruled and I doubt you will settle for a sponge bath."

"I doubt I would either," Ingwë retorted with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I’m already feeling much better and I’ll feel even more so once I’ve had a decent bath. In all the time of my captivity I’ve had to make do with a basin of cold water."

"Well, if you finish this bowl of broth and the bread, then I will see about getting you your bath."

Ingwë gave Arafinwë a jaundiced look. "Who are you and what have you done with my nephew?"

Arafinwë laughed and the sound was merry and unforced. "I’m still me, Uncle," he assured him, "but I’ve had a few experiences of my own that have... changed me."

"So I’ve noticed," Ingwë said approvingly.

"Eat and I’ll go order the hot water," Arafinwë directed as he started to leave.

Ingwion sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bowl and balancing the plate of bread on his lap. He handed the spoon to his atar and Ingwë was pleased that he felt strong enough to feed himself this time.

****

Arafinwë returned with another visitor and Ingwë smiled when he saw Intarion, who entered the room with an anxious expression on his face. It softened when he saw Ingwë sitting up, looking alert, though there were still smudges under his eyes and he was too gaunt looking.

"Intarion," Ingwë said warmly. "I’m so glad to see you."

Intarion just stood there, staring at him for a moment and then surprisingly burst into tears. Ingwë gave Arafinwë and Ingwion a helpless look even as Arafinwë wrapped his arms around the weeping ellon and held him. "Wh-what did I say?" Ingwë asked in confusion.

"It’s nothing, Uncle," Arafinwë assured him. "Intarion, I suspect, is feeling guilty because it was his atar...."

"Ah, now I understand," Ingwë said. He pulled himself more upright, gesturing for Ingwion to relinquish his seat. "Intarion, hinya, come over here," he commanded, sounding more like his old self. Arafinwë gave Intarion a gentle squeeze on his shoulder before releasing him and Intarion came and sat in the chair that Ingwion had just vacated. By now his tears had abated but he refused to look up, his expression one of absolute misery.

"Inti, look at me," Ingwë said gently, using the pet name that had been Intarion’s when he was a very young elfling. Intarion looked up, surprised by the warmth and love he heard in the High King’s voice. Ingwë nodded. "I place no blame on you, child," he continued. "You have always been an honorable Elf and need not fear for yourself."

"Atar and ammë...." Intarion started to say but Ingwë shook his head.

"They will be dealt with justly, I promise you." He leaned over carefully and patted Intarion’s knee in assurance. "Your ammë I suspect is guilty of simply going along with her husband and as long as your atar has done no one else any harm I will deal with him with leniency."

"You would be a fool to do so, Ingwë."

Ingwë looked up to see Valandur standing at the door, a stern look on his fair face.

"He is my brother...."

"As is Melkor to Lord Manwë and look what the Elder King’s leniency towards his brother has led us to," Valandur countered coldly, stepping into the room. Eccaldamos followed him but remained by the door, a witness to the discussion, but not a part of it. He was the only one in the room not related to the High King by either blood or marriage.

"Still...."

"Enough," Arafinwë said firmly. "Ingoldo’s fate is best left for another time." He cast them a grimly amused smile. "Unless, of course, you prefer to sit here and argue between yourselves while the bath water grows cold. I promise you, I will not reheat it if it does."

Ingwë raised an eyebrow and gave Valandur and Ingwion and Intarion an amused look, their own expressions lighter as well. "Do we know this person?" he asked, pointing at Arafinwë. "He looks just like my sister’s youngest son, but I have my doubts."

"So did I at first," Ingwion said with a snicker, "but I assure you it truly is Arafinwë."

"And while you are attempting to establish my identity to your satisfaction, the water is still getting cold," Arafinwë retorted.

"In that case, we’ll table all discussions until after I’ve had my bath," Ingwë said and started to pull off the covers. Ingwion and Intarion were immediately there to help him out of the bed and Ingwë was grateful for their support, for his legs felt curiously weak and he feared he would not make it to the bathing chamber that was only two doors away. The going was slow and he was sweating and breathing heavily by the time they reached the bath, but once the bandages were removed and he was helped into the tub the water, pleasantly still hot and steaming with the fragrance of ëarrossë, he felt immeasurably better. Ingwion offered to stay with him while the others went about their own business. Arafinwë promised to return with fresh clothes.

"Your wounds are healing nicely," he told him before he left. "There should be little or no scarring."

Ingwë nodded. "I am glad to hear it," he said with a sigh as he sank deeper into the water, closing his eyes and letting it do its healing work. He did not see the amused looks that were exchanged between his son and nephew.

****

Later, after dressing in the soft linen shirt and trews that Arafinwë had found, apparently left behind when the Noldor had fled Formenos, Ingwë insisted he felt well enough that he did not wish to return to the bedroom where he had been kept.

"If I never set eyes again upon that room, it will be too soon," he said adamantly and the others reluctantly agreed, though Arafinwë cautioned him to take his time and not move too swiftly. Ingwë cast him an amused look. "Yes, ammë. Anything you say, ammë." Arafinwë blushed to the roots of his hair while everyone else laughed.

"He’s been a regular mother hen since joining us," Valandur said, giving the younger ellon a wink and a fond smile to let him know that the loremaster was only jesting.

"You must tell me everything," Ingwë said as they made their way downstairs to the ground floor. It had been decided to adjourn to the kitchen, for it was the warmest room in the fortress and Ingwë wished for more food. "What has been happening and how did you come to find me? I truly did not think anyone would." There was a brief look of pain in his eyes and Ingwion, seeing it, carefully wrapped an arm around his atar’s shoulders, mindful of his injuries.

"We never ceased to look for you as soon as it was made clear to us that you were missing," he said. "It was I who never thought to look here, though it seems everyone else did. It just never occurred to me that Uncle Ingoldo would bring you here. In my mind this was still an enclave of the Noldor. I know, I know," he protested, looking suitably embarrassed, when Ingwë gave him a considering look. "It was stupid of me but...."

"Not stupid, Ingwion," his atar assured him, "just... naive." He sighed, shaking his head. By now they had reached the kitchen and he was beginning to feel weary. Ingwion led him to a comfortable chair that sat before a roaring fire and he breathed another sigh, this one of relief. Intarion brought over a goblet of warmed wine which he accepted gratefully. The others took their own seats, except Valandur who offered to put together a light collation for them all while they brought Ingwë up to date on matters.

With a little prompting and a smile of encouragement from Ingwë, Ingwion began the narrative, speaking of his return to Vanyamar and all that had occurred. The others chimed in with their own thoughts and observations. Intarion interrupted Ingwion’s tale with a brief recap of what he and Lirulin had done. When Ingwë heard about the Kinslaying and the death of Olwë’s son, he

wept and the others kept silent, respecting the High King’s need to grieve. Eventually, his tears slowed and he bade them to continue. Ingwion did not feel up to resuming his tale so Valandur took it up, explaining how they had escaped from Vanyamar, all except Elindis, Ingalaurë, Indil and Tamurilon.

"Ingoldo has them," the loremaster concluded with a scowl. "We were unable to get any information about them before we continued to Eldamas to await the help that we’d been promised by Lord Manwë, help in the persons of Intarion and Arafinwë."

"We need to return to Vanyamar as quickly as we can," Ingwion urged when Ingwë remained silent. "We need to rescue Ammë and the others."

Ingwë frowned. All through the narrative something had been nagging at him, some elusive memory. He had only been half-listening to what was told to him as he sought to bring the errant thought to the fore. Even as Ingwion was insisting they needed to return quickly to Vanyamar he remembered and looked up at them all with mingled hope and fear.

"They’re not there," he said.

"Who’s not there?" Arafinwë asked. "What are you saying, Uncle?"

"Elindis and the others," Ingwë replied, struggling out of his chair while the others scrambled to their feet as well. "They’re not in Vanyamar. They’re here in Formenos. I heard the guards speaking. Ingoldo brought them here. We need to find them. We need to find them now!"

And before anyone of them could respond to that amazing statement, Ingwë was striding out of the room in search of his wife and other children.

****

Eärrossë: ‘Dew of the Sea’ or Rosemary, the oil of which is used as a salve to treat wounds and bruises.