In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 111: Confrontation

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111: Confrontation

"What I want to know is what is a tunnel doing here in the first place?" Tamurilon asked as he and Ingalaurë wove their way through the streets to the palace, their progress slowed somewhat by necessary detours as they tried to avoid the worst damaged areas of the city. "It seems almost... Noldorin." He gave the prince a lop-sided smile.

Ingalaurë returned the smile with one of his own and then shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine," he answered with a frown. "Súlimondil. He was the one who disrupted Intarion and Lirulin’s wedding feast. That cannot be a coincidence."

"Surely, though, that tunnel was not made for the sole purpose of spiriting your ammë and Indil out of Vanyamar," Tamurilon retorted.

Ingalaurë snorted in amusement. "Hardly. I suspect the tunnel’s been there all along, though why it was built escapes me, too. I suppose we’ll have to wait and ask Lord Súlimondil, won’t we?"

Tamurilon rolled his eyes, then sobered. "What about Ingoldo? What are you going to do with him?"

Ingalaurë’s expression darkened. "Whatever it takes to get Ammë and Indil back. Ingoldo is going to show me where they are if I have to drag him there by his hair."

Tamurilon raised an eyebrow at that but did not comment. The two continued walking in silence. Their progress was not swift, though, for they were often stopped by citizens seeking answers or comfort and Ingalaurë was forced to stop and speak to the people, offering them reassurance.

"No, this is not a punishment from the Valar," he said to some who wondered. "They are not angry at us."

He wasn’t sure how convincing he was but his words seemed to comfort those to whom he spoke and he realized that it wasn’t so much what he said but the fact that it was he who was saying it. They saw the prince, the son of their king, walking amongst them, comforting them, and that was all that mattered to them. He doubted if Ingoldo would have done as much.

Eventually, they made it to the palace where Ingalaurë was immediately accosted by members of the court demanding answers. Ingalaurë tried to speak, but there was so much shouting, he could not get a word in edgewise.

"SILENCE!"

Ingalaurë looked at Tamurilon in wry amusement as everyone else stared at the ellon in amazement. Tamurilon glared at the courtiers gathered around them. "For shame, my lords. Pray remember to whom you are speaking."

There were several sheepish looks among them and Ingalaurë took advantage of the silence to speak, his tone mild and conciliatory. "My lords, I appreciate your concerns, but the truth of the matter is that I had nothing to do with this storm. Most of your estates, I understand, suffered little or no damage, but that cannot be said for all." He paused and his expression hardened. He pointed towards the doors leading outside. "You should be out there helping to succor our people instead of in here importuning Us." He noticed several of the courtiers giving him disbelieving looks at his use of the royal pronoun but did not give them a chance to speak. "And now, if you will excuse me, I must needs speak with the healers to ascertain if there have been any... deaths."

The silence that followed that sobering thought was telling and Ingalaurë noticed several of the lord’s paling. He gave them a nod of his head in dismissal and strode away with Tamurilon at his heels. The ellon gave him an appreciative look.

"You’re scary when you want to be," he said.

Ingalaurë gave him a wry grin but the grin fled as he entered the upper gallery connecting various wings of the palace. When the Trees had been alive, this had been a pleasant place for strolling, the arched embrasures looking down into one of the inner gardens. Now it was filled with people lying on pallets along the outer wall while healers moved up and down the gallery tending to them. Ingalaurë and Tamurilon stood at the gallery entrance, taking in the scene.

So many injured!

Ingalaurë grimaced. Tamurilon touched him on the arm to get his attention and he looked around to see Calamírë advancing towards them, giving them a nod of acknowledgment.

"How bad is it?" Ingalaurë whispered anxiously.

"Not as bad as it looks, Highness," the healer answered with an amused look in her eyes. "The ones you see here are only slightly injured and will be released soon enough. We have only a handful of more seriously injured and we’ve moved them to a more private room. Would you like to see?"

Ingalaurë nodded and he and Tamurilon followed Calamírë as she made her way across the gallery. Ingalaurë stopped every once in a while to offer words of encouragement to those lying on the pallets, asking for their names and occupations and enquiring about their families. The conversations were brief but Ingalaurë sensed the general atmosphere of the gallery lightening somewhat and he saw several people smile. Calamírë smiled at him as she waited at the other end of the gallery for him to finish speaking with an ellon suffering a broken foot.

"You would make a fine healer, Highness," she said.

"Thank you, but I think I’ll stick to writing poetry," Ingalaurë quipped. Calamírë and Tamirilon chuckled.

"This way, Highness," the healer said and led him into a small receiving room that had several cots set up.

Both Ingalaurë and Tamurilon stopped in shock, for ministering to those within the room were two Maiar, one in the purple surcoat with the gold harp of Lady Estë and the other in the white surcoat with the rainbow emblem of Lord Irmo. Ingalaurë shot an enquiring look at Calamírë, who gave him a shrug.

"They just... showed up," she said, almost apologetically.

Ingalaurë raised an eyebrow but was saved from commenting by the Maia in the white surcoat approaching, giving them all a beatific smile. "I am Ingil of the People of Irmo," the Maia said by way of introduction.

Ingalaurë startled at the name and without thinking, blurted out, "But that’s my name!" Then, realizing what he’d just said, he started blushing. The Maia merely laughed and the sound of it sent shivers of delight down Ingalaurë’s spine.

"Ah, but it was mine long before it was yours, Highness," Ingil said, "so you must be Ingilincë." He gave them a wink.

Tamurilon chuckled and Calamírë held a hand in front of her mouth as if trying to hide a smile. Ingalaurë glared at them both. At that moment, the other Maia approached. Ingil smiled at her and made the introductions. "This is Ninwanyellë of the People of Estë," he said. "We were sent by our Lord and Lady to help with the succoring of your people."

"Please thank them for me," Ingalaurë replied politely, glad for the distraction from his gaffe.

The two Maiar nodded and then someone moaned in pain and Ninwanyellë gave them a brief smile and went to comfort the person. Ingil stayed with them for a few minutes more, bringing Ingalaurë up to date, assuring him that even those suffering the severest of injuries would recover. "None have died, nor will they," he told them. "I can promise you that."

Ingalaurë thanked him. "I will leave you to your work, then, and I am grateful knowing that my people are in such capable hands," he said, including Calamírë in that statement with a bow to the healer. Then he and Tamurilon took their leave, this time heading towards the royal apartments.

"And now, it’s time for me to have a little chat with Uncle," Ingalaurë said grimly as he and Tamurilon made their way down the corridor leading to Ingoldo’s apartment. They stopped before the door and the guard standing there saluted and removed a key from his belt and unlocked the door, then stepped aside to let the two ellyn enter. Ingalaurë nodded his thanks and opened the door, instinctively ducking as a vase went sailing through the opening to crash into the wall outside. Both Tamurilon and the guard had managed to dodge the flying vase as well, giving one another sour grins.

"If you keep that up, Aunt, you’ll run out of vases and I won’t give you any more," Ingalaurë said as he stepped inside, followed by Tamurilon. The guard closed the door and they heard the key turn. Tinwetariel was standing in the middle of the room, seething.

"How long will we remain prisoners here?" she demanded. "You have no right!"

"As Regent, I have every right, the same right your husband had and you will remain here until Atar returns," Ingalaurë answered.

Tinwetariel sneered. "Do you truly think Ingwë will return when he would much rather sit at Lord Manwë’s feet instead?"

Ingalaurë gave her a considering look. "Do you actually believe that lie, Aunt? Do you actually believe my Atar so craven that he would abandon his family, his people at this time?" He shook his head. "Atar did not abdicate, whatever Uncle says to the contrary. Now, I need to speak to your husband on a matter of importance."

"He’s resting," Tinwetariel answered with a sniff, moving to stand before the bedroom door.

"Then I’ll just have to unrest him," Ingalaurë said, not willing to play his aunt’s game. "Step aside, Tinwetariel, unless you want me to do it for you."

"You wouldn’t dare!"

"Tam."

Tamurilon started toward the elleth, who glared at him. "Do not dare touch me, seldo," she said haughtily and the ellon stopped, unsure what propriety demanded, glancing at Ingalaurë with an apologetic look.

Ingalaurë shook his head. "I don’t have time for this," he muttered. He stepped in front of Tinwetariel and in one fluid motion swept her into his arms and in two steps deposited her onto a nearby settee. "Do not move," he ordered her and she was just stunned enough to obey. "Tam, if she so much as twitches you have my permission to tie her up and gag her." He turned to face the other ellon, giving him a wink that Tinwetariel could not see. Tamurilon schooled his expression and nodded.

"With pleasure," was all he said.

Ingalaurë then opened the bedroom door, instinctively crouching and going to his right as a shadow loomed at him from the left. Ingoldo stumbled when the heavy tome he had meant to land on his nephew’s head met thin air and he started cursing. Ingalaurë straightened, grabbed the book out of his uncle’s hands, effectively pushing him back and away from the door so he could shut it. He leaned against the door and examined the book.

"‘A Treatise on Metallurgy and the Properties of Certain Metals’ by Prince Fëanáro. Hmm... heavy reading indeed." He let the tome drop and it thudded on the floor between him and his uncle. "Aunt Tinwetariel said you were resting. I see that you have recovered enough to... um... start trouble again."

"What do you want, seldo?" Ingoldo snarled.

"The truth," Ingalaurë shot back. "We found Súlimondil’s tunnel." He almost smiled at the surprised and fearful look Ingoldo gave him, a look that he quickly suppressed, giving him a haughty stare.

"I have no idea of what you speak," Ingoldo said.

"Oh, come, Uncle," Ingalaurë replied. "Enough of your stupid games. We found the tunnel, thanks to the storm, and I have people even now checking to see where it goes. Súlimondil... well, we’ll get to him eventually, but I thought I would try you first."

Ingoldo gave him a hard stare and Ingalaurë forced himself not to flinch or look away. He didn’t care for the smile that stole across his uncle’s visage.

"You don’t have Súlimondil," he said knowingly.

"It doesn’t matter," Ingalaurë replied with a shrug. "I have you."

"I will not cooperate," Ingoldo retorted. "Find your ammë on your own."

Ingalaurë stood for a moment, gazing at Ingoldo, contemplating his options. "Tam," he called out.

The door opened after a moment and Tamurilon stood there giving them an enquiring look. Without looking at his friend, Ingalaurë said, "Bring my aunt in here please."

Tamurilon nodded and a moment later he was escorting the lady into the bedroom. Tinwetariel started to go to Ingoldo but Ingalaurë held out his hand to stay her, then looked at Ingoldo. "I know you don’t fear for yourself," he said, "but I’m sure you have some feelings for your wife."

Ingoldo stared at him for a long moment. Tinwetariel started to speak, but Tamurilon placed a hand on her arm, and cautioned her to silence with a finger on his lips. Ingoldo sneered. "You don’t have..."

Without warning, Ingalaurë spun around and slapped his aunt soundly in the face. The elleth cried out more in shock than in pain, a hand to her face. Ingoldo’s expression became one of fury.

"You dare!" he cried and started towards Ingalaurë, who stood his ground, his expression stony. Tamurilon intercepted Ingoldo, pushing him back and away. The move was so unexpected that Ingoldo allowed himself to be pushed back, glaring at them all, though Ingalaurë detected a hint of worry in his uncle’s eyes as his gaze fell on his now weeping wife.

"Tam, why don’t you take Lady Tinwetariel out and see that she has the company of the ellith of her household," Ingalaurë said quietly. "I’m sure they will look after her properly."

Tamurilon nodded, keeping his own expression blank so none knew what he thought of it all, and with a gentle word to the lady, escorted her back out of the room. Ingalaurë stepped to the door to shut it before facing his uncle again.

"I will dare many things to get Ammë and Indil back," he said quietly. "That is one lesson I doubt you thought to teach me, Uncle, but you did. You may not fear for yourself, but you do fear for Tinwetariel, I saw it in your eyes, just as you no doubt saw the fear I had for Ammë and Indil when I was in your power."

"You would never harm her," Ingoldo stated firmly.

"You cannot be sure of that, not any more, not after what I did to you," Ingalaurë retorted and he had the grim satisfaction of seeing the ellon flinch in memory of his beating. He closed his eyes, leaning against the door, feeling suddenly weary, then opened them, giving Ingoldo a sigh. "Why this refusal to tell me where you hid them? You’ve lost, Uncle. Those who supported you are already in custody and are in no position to help you. Atar will return. Ingwion is out there even now and he will find him and restore him to us. Give it up, Ingoldo. Has there not been enough darkness in our lives of late?"

Ingoldo merely stood there in stony silence. Ingalaurë nodded, as if he had expected such a response. "Very well then, I think you should take me to where Ammë and Indil are."

"And why would I do that?" Ingoldo sneered.

Ingalaurë was on him too quickly for the older ellon to react. Grabbing the placket of Ingoldo’s tunic, Ingalaurë rammed him into the wall behind him. "Because I swear, Uncle, that if you do not, your wife will suffer for it," he hissed angrily. "Do not mistake me. I will do whatever it takes to get Ammë and Indil back, even if it means killing you to do it."

Uncle and nephew stared at one another for a long moment, and it was Ingoldo who looked away first. He gave a brief nod. "Get my cloak," was all he said, not looking at Ingalaurë.

The younger ellon stepped back, gauging his uncle’s intent, then apparently satisfied, he moved to the wardrobe and drew out a dark blue cloak and threw it at Ingoldo. "Let’s go," he said and he went to the door and opened it, to find the outer room filled with ellith all commiserating with Tinwetariel, who sat in their midst weeping. Some of the ladies glanced up, giving him sour looks which he ignored. He saw Tamurilon standing on the far side of the room sipping on some wine and Ingalaurë couldn’t help smiling.

"We’re going out," was all he said and, taking Ingoldo by the arm, headed for the door, calling for the guard to unlock it. Tamurilon put his goblet down and followed.

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Ingilincë: Little Ingil, cf. Atarincë ‘Little Father’, amilessë of Curufinwë (Curufin).

Ninwanyellë: Blue-bell.