In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 116: The Hunt for Ingwion

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116: The Hunt for Ingwion

"What’s wrong with him?" Indil asked, staring down at her brother still crouched on the floor, her atar kneeling beside him, holding him.

Ingwë shook his head. "I do not know," he replied, concern deepening for his eldest child. "Ingwi? Can you hear me, child? It’s Atto. Ingwi?"

Ingwion, however, did not respond. Though a part of him knew he was in a sitting room surrounded by his family, another part, the greater part of him, was elsewhere, hunting for the one whom he loved more than any other, the one who was his other half. That was all that was important to him, finding his brother.

He was unaware that what he was attempting to do would later be called ‘fading’, and those with him did not recognize it, never having seen the process before, but others did recognize what was happening and a call went out to Ilmarin and decisions were made all in a matter of seconds. Incandescent lights, which Ingwion did not notice, flooded the sitting room, temporarily blinding the other Elves, and then Manwë, Irmo and Námo were there, their expressions ones of deep concern. Ingwion paid them no mind, never seeing them.

Indeed, he never heard the discussion between the Valar and his parents, never felt Lord Irmo gently probing him to ascertain his condition, never heard Lord Námo state categorically that he would not let Ingwion within his demesne and never saw Lord Manwë gently lead his parents, Indil, Arafinwë and Valandur out of the room even as Olórin, who had been there all that time, clothed himself and gently lifted Ingwion into his arms and settled him on the sofa, removing his belt and boots and covering him with a blanket while Irmo and Námo held a discussion nearby.

"He’s obviously trying to fade, to join Ingalaurë," Irmo said.

Námo nodded. "We cannot let that happen, of course," he said. "For one thing, it is not his destiny."

"And for another?" Irmo enquired with a quirk of a smile, knowing his brother too well.

Námo rewarded him with an arch look. "And for another, it is not his destiny."

Irmo snorted good-naturedly, not too upset with Námo’s attitude. "We need to figure a way to get him back to himself," he said instead.

"Well, I suppose I could scare him back," Námo suggested. "I can give him my — what is it Nienna calls it? Oh, yes — my ‘wrath-of-Mandos’ look." He gave his younger brother a wicked smile. Irmo raised an eyebrow and Olórin, who had stayed with Ingwion, made the mistake of rolling his eyes, which Námo caught. The Vala turned to the Maia who, though holding his allegiance to Manwë, still liked to help out in Mandos and occasionally spent time with Nienna and Irmo. "You have something to add to this discussion, Olórin?" Námo asked, his tone deceptively soft.

"Only, whatever you plan to do, my lords, it should be done quickly," Olórin answered respectfully. "Even now I can feel that his fëa is dangerously slipping away. It will be Míriel all over again."

Both Valar grimaced at that, then Irmo turned to Námo. "I don’t think scaring him will work, at least not in the long term," he offered. "Perhaps gentle persuasion would work better. We need for Ingwion to return voluntarily."

Námo nodded in agreement. "Ingwion has no trust in us," he said. "He is suspicious of our motives, so it might be better to have someone else do what needs to be done, or rather, several someones."

"What do you have in mind?" Irmo asked.

Before Námo could answer, Manwë returned. "What have you decided?" he asked them.

"Ingwë?" Námo enquired.

"I asked Estë to come," Manwë replied. "She and some of her Maiar are tending to them."

The other two Valar nodded. "That is well," Námo said. "I was just about to explain to Irmo what I think should be done." When Manwë nodded encouragingly, he continued. "I was saying that Ingwion does not trust any of us, so sending one of us after him may prove counterproductive."

"We could send one of the Maiar," Manwë suggested.

"I think it would amount to the same thing in Ingwion’s eyes," Námo said with a shake of his head. "Possibly the only Maia to whom he might listen would be Nornoros, for they already have a relationship of trust between them from when Ingwion and his brother were in Nornoros’ care, but you’ve already allowed him to watch over Ingalaurë as he sleeps and I hesitate to take him from that duty. He was devastated when the child died."

Manwë nodded. "I know, which is why I allowed it when you suggested it to me. So, whom do you have in mind for this?"

"The obvious choice is Ingwion’s family," Námo replied.

"Do we have time to teach them all what they need to know, though?" Irmo asked.

"No we don’t, which is where we will have to step in," Námo said. "We will have to guide them, or at least Ingwë and possibly Elindis. The others should only be peripherally involved, lending their support. It is Ingwë and Elindis as his parents who must encourage him back to himself."

"They have already lost one child," Manwë said with a nod. "They, above all, would have the will to keep this child from leaving them."

"So I hope," Námo said. "As I told Irmo, Mandos is not Ingwion’s destiny. He has another role to play, though it will be some time as even the Eldar reckon it before that role becomes clear but he cannot assume the role meant for him if he is in Mandos."

"And naturally, you will not tell us what that role is," Manwë said with a slight smile.

Námo shook his head. "Even I have not seen that clearly," he admitted. "I only know that Ingwion cannot join his brother in Mandos. He needs to be here, alive, at the proper time or...."

"Or what?" Irmo asked with some exasperation when Námo appeared to hesitate. "Sometimes, Námo, I think you stop in the middle of a sentence just for the fun of it."

Manwë hid a grin as Námo glared at his younger brother in the Thought of Ilúvatar. "I do not," he said, his tone frigid.

"Yes you do," Irmo insisted, "and furthermore, I think you take the ‘Lord of Mandos’ thing too far sometimes. You may impress the Children with your Doomsman attitude, but you don’t impress us, certainly not me."

Námo blinked in disbelief at Irmo, wondering where that had come from. He felt somewhat hurt by his brother’s accusations and earlier insecurities that he thought he had long put to rest surfaced in his consciousness. Manwë must have felt something change in Námo’s aura, for he took a step between the two brothers, his expression stern but full of compassion.

"Enough," he said quietly, yet with full authority. "This is neither the time nor the place. One set of brothers has already been separated by this tragedy, let us not see you two at odds. Irmo, your brother is not purposely doing what he does to either impress or annoy us; it is simply his nature as Atar has given it to him. He can no more help being who he is than can you." He gave the Lord of Lórien a significant look and Irmo had the grace to blush and mutter an apology. Manwë nodded and turned his attention to Námo, who stood there still looking hurt and confused by his brother’s outburst. "Námo, your foresight has always been a two-edged sword, yet I, for one, welcome it, for it is a gift from Atar. Yet, I, too, wonder why you sometimes never complete a sentence when speaking of the future." The words were spoken gently, without recrimination.

Námo sighed, not looking at anyone as he spoke. "The future is not set. It is always in flux, especially where the Children are concerned. Sometimes I can see multiple scenarios of what may happen and to choose one or another is something I cannot, indeed, will not do. All is in Atar’s hands and all I can do is warn that a possible future may come to pass. In all futures, Ingwion’s presence is vital, but just why eludes me. That is why I sometimes hesitate in speaking more plainly than I do. To say too much can change things for the worse."

"Then perhaps it would be better if you said nothing at all," Irmo suggested not unkindly.

Námo shook his head. "Do you not think I don’t know this, Brother? But I speak as Atar directs me to, and I remain silent as He commands and I’m sorry that it proves inconvenient for the rest of you but that’s not my fault. Complain to Atar, if you wish. I stopped doing that a long time ago."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the three Valar for a moment or two before Manwë spoke again. "This is a discussion for another time. I suggest we concentrate on Ingwion. We will accept that the Child must return to Life and that his parents are the best equipped to bring him back to himself. Shall we call them in?" The other two nodded and Manwë sent a silent command to Estë. Five minutes later, the door to the sitting room opened and Estë was ushering in the Elves, all of them looking lost and confused. Ingwë and Elindis immediately went to Ingwion, asking quietly of Olórin what was happening.

"We should have Intarion and Arafinwë here as well," Námo said to Manwë and Irmo. "They can lend additional support."

"They will not wish to leave Ingalaurë alone," Irmo said.

"I will go," Olórin volunteered and when Manwë nodded he went to the bedroom. A moment later Arafinwë and Intarion emerged, both with looks of bemusement on their faces. Irmo went to them and gently encouraged them to find seats. All the Elves were sitting now, except Ingwë and Elindis who hovered over Ingwion, smoothing his hair and generally fussing over their child who simply lay there staring sightlessly, totally unresponsive. Manwë went to them and gathered them into his embrace.

"We have a task for you," he said quietly, "for all of you."

"What is it?" Ingwë asked. "What is happening to Ingwion? Why does he not respond?"

"He is attempting to do what Míriel did," Manwë answered and there were gasps of dismay from all of the Elves. Elindis pulled out of Manwë’s embrace and went to cradle her son.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I won’t let him do that."

"Nor will we," Manwë assured them. "Unfortunately, while it would be simple enough for one of us to... um... retrieve Ingwion and bring him back, I fear he no longer trusts us and will not listen. That is where you, where all of you, come in."

"What is it you wish for us to do?" Ingwë asked.

"We want you and Elindis to go after your son," Manwë replied. "We will show you how to do it. You others are here to lend them support, for the journey they will take is one of the fëa and not of the hröa and there is a danger here that you must know." He paused, his expression grave. "It takes a great deal of energy to send one’s fëa forth as we will show you. Your hröar will then be dangerously weak. We Valar will protect you as we can, but it is important for you to remember that you do indeed have a hröa and that you must not wander so far that you are unable to return and thereby become Houseless."

The Elves all blanched at that but Ingwë’s expression hardened. "Tell us what we must do. Show us how to save our son."

Manwë nodded. "Let’s make you both comfortable." He gestured and two chairs appeared beside the sofa and he bade Ingwë and Elindis to sit. "Now, hold hands. Ingwë, place your other hand on Ingwion’s forehead. Elindis and you others should join hands. Valandur, you are the only one here who is not related to Ingwion by blood, but that is no bad thing, for you will act as the anchor for the others. It will be your task to keep everyone else grounded."

"And what will you be doing, lord?" Ingwë asked.

"We will make sure you succeed," Manwë answered, then he turned to Námo and gave him a nod.

Námo stepped forward. "Ingwë, I need you to open yourself completely to me. No, do not fear. I will not violate your inner most self, but I need to show you what you must do and I can only do it if you willingly open yourself to me."

Ingwë swallowed nervously and nodded. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep centering breath, letting it out slowly, relaxing himself as far as he knew how. Námo moved around to stand behind him and gently placed his hands on either side of his head. "That’s it," he said in a whisper. "You are doing well and there is no need to fear. Come, let me show you the way."

Ingwë kept his eyes closed. The other Elves eyed him worriedly. At first, nothing seemed to be happening and then Ingwë gasped, shuddered slightly and then went still. Elindis also gasped and automatically squeezed her husband’s hand. Irmo was standing behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don’t fight it, Child," he said. "Let the energy flow between you all. Do you feel Ingwë through your marriage bond?" She nodded but did not speak, closing her eyes and biting her lips. "Good," Irmo continued. "Follow him along your bond. Follow him as he hunts for your son. And you others, lend them your own strength, strength of love and purpose and need."

The other Elves closed their eyes. Manwë moved to stand behind Valandur, bending down to whisper into the ellon’s ear. "Remain firm, my son," he said. "Remember, you are their anchor, you are their assurance that they will return to their hröar safely." He placed his hands on Valandur’s shoulders and gave him a kiss in benediction. Valandur shivered as something, some power he could put no name to, swept through him, lending him additional strength as he attempted to keep them all grounded.

Manwë looked up at Námo who nodded. "And now the Hunt begins...."

****

Long years later, when Ingwë inadvertently experienced his own separation of his fëa from his hröa, he would remember this journey in search of his son and decide the two experiences were not in any way similar. Of course, that would be then. At the moment, as he followed Lord Námo’s instructions, he had no way to judge. He only knew that one moment he was seated in a room in a manor house with his eyes closed and the next moment he was standing on a plain of indeterminate landscape that seemed familiar but in subtle ways was not. He looked around and found Elindis standing next to him, looking insubstantial, her expression a mingling of trepidation and bemusement, as if she could not quite understand where she was or how she had gotten there. Ingwë reached out for her.

"Elindis," he said, or thought he had. He was never afterwards sure if he actually spoke or if all was in ósanwë and in the end it really didn’t matter. Somehow, Elindis heard him, for she turned to him with a tremulous smile. "Take my hand," Ingwë commanded. She looked down at his outstretched hand and tentatively took it. In the process of doing so, she seemed to become more present to him until she was as solid looking as he assumed he himself was. Certainly, when he looked down at himself he appeared solid enough.

"What is this place, beloved?" Elindis asked.

"It is the landscape of the fëa," came the answer, though not from Ingwë. Both Elves turned to find themselves facing Lord Námo. "Or rather, it is the landscape of Ingwion’s fëa," the Vala amended. "Somewhere here Ingwion is wandering, searching for his brother, searching for a way to be reunited with him and we cannot let that happen."

"How do we find him?" Ingwë asked with a frown. He glanced about him and realized that the place looked familiar because he had seen it before, or rather, he had seen it in his mind’s eye as his other son recited a certain poem. He cringed at that thought and the grief he felt almost overwhelmed him. "This is the place in Ingil’s dream," he said after a moment, pushing the grief and the pain away to be dealt with later. "How is it that Ingwion knows of it?"

Námo shrugged. "I do not know. Perhaps being twins there is a psychic connection between them of which we are not fully cognizant."

"So what do we do?" Elindis asked. "Do we just stand here and shout our son’s name in the hope he will hear it and respond?"

Námo’s smile was brief but genuine. "That would be too simple wouldn’t it? No. I am afraid you must seek Ingwion out and persuade him to return with you." He pointed at them. "Do you see that cord of light between you? Do you see it extending into eternity there?" He turned and pointed to a shining strand of light that snaked its way into the darkness. "That is your lifeline. That is your way back to your hröar. Do not lose sight of it."

The two Elves nodded, still looking uncertain. "So, how do we find Ingwion?" Ingwë asked, his tone perplexed.

"This place is a... a construct, built from Ingwion’s psychic need," Námo told them. "It has no material reality, but it is real nonetheless. Any direction will take you to where he is, for all directions are one. Think of Ingwion, in all his particulars, his strengths as well as his weaknesses. Think of him and let your thoughts be your guide."

The two Elves gave him skeptical looks and then Ingwë nodded and taking a breath that was totally unnecessary, he closed his eyes and thought of his beloved son. He pictured him as closely as he could, dredging up as many images of him as he could and putting them together as if putting together a puzzle. At the same time, he sent his mind questing, instinctively realizing that in the world of spirit, his mind was his only true weapon.

"There!" he heard Elindis exclaim and, opening his eyes, saw her pointing in the very direction he was facing, though it did not seem to be the direction from which he had started. He squeezed her hand and wordlessly they set off to find their son, unaware that Námo was no longer with them....

****

Ingwion was not sure where he was or where he was going but there was one thing that he knew: somewhere in this endless landscape was his brother. If he knew nothing else, was sure of nothing else, this one fact was immutable. Ingalaurë was here somewhere; he just had to find him.

"Ingil!" he shouted. "Ingil! Stop hiding. I know you’re here somewhere. Come, Brother. Show yourself."

He stopped, waiting, but when his brother did not magically rise up out of the darkness that surrounded him he sighed and trudged on, his only thought being to find his brother and rescue him. Rescue him from what, he could no longer remember, but that his brother needed rescuing, of that he was sure.

"Ingil!" he shouted again.

"Ingwi!"

At first he thought it was his brother calling him and his heart leapt with joy at the sound, but when he turned around and saw, not his beloved brother, but his parents standing there, looking concerned and expectant, he felt himself grow angry. "What are you doing here?" he snarled at them. "Go away."

"Ingwion, yonya," Ingwë said pleadingly. "Please, come back with us."

"No," Ingwion cried, slowly backing up. "I have to find Ingil. He’s here somewhere. Did you frighten him away? Why did you frighten him away?"

"Ingwion," his atar said imploringly. "Your brother is not here. Please, yonya, let your ammë and I take you back where you belong. You will not find your brother here no matter how long you search for him."

"I don’t believe you," Ingwion declared. "He’s here. I know it. I feel it. He’s here and I must find him or all is lost... I am lost...." He wasn’t sure where that last thought had come from but he felt a certainty to it and he turned away with the intent of leaving these two and continuing his search.

"Mahalmarunando."

Ingwion stopped cold at the sound of his amilessë. He turned and saw his ammë take a step forward.

"Why did you call me that?" he asked.

"It is your name, as well as your destiny, my beloved son," Elindis said with a gentle smile. "Your brother fulfilled his destiny and now it’s time for you to do the same."

Ingwion stared at her in confusion. "How do you mean? What destiny?"

"Your brother was my Champion," Elindis replied, "and the guardian of your atar’s throne. He executed his duties to me and to his atar admirably, and now it is time for you to do the same."

"How?" Ingwion demanded hotly. "In what way am I to redeem a throne that isn’t mine but his?" He pointed to Ingwë though his gaze never left his ammë’s.

"There is only one way to find out," Elindis answered, putting out her hand.

Ingwion hesitated and almost reached out to his ammë but at the last moment he pulled back. "No. I have to find Ingil." He turned away from them.

"Ingil is dead, Ingwion. It’s time you accepted it."

Ingwion turned back to stare at his atar in disbelief. "How can you say that? He’s not dead, he’s not."

"But he is, child, and deep in your heart you know this," Ingwë said calmly though his own expression was one of deep sorrow and pain.

"Ingwi, we’ve already lost one son, we don’t want to lose another," Elindis said. "Please, yonya, please come back with us. Too many will miss you if you do not."

"Who would miss me?" Ingwion asked in spite of himself.

"I would."

"And I."

"And I."

Ingwion looked to see several people standing behind his parents. He recognized his sister and Intarion. Arafinwë was there as well. They all had their hands out to him, their expressions pleading.

"Come, Cousin," Arafinwë said. "You are needed. All of us need you. Do not desert us in our hour of need."

"Ingil...."

"Is dead," Arafinwë said sorrowfully. "You, on the other hand, are very much alive and you have a duty to your family and your people. Would you shirk your duty to your own liege lord? Are your oaths to the High King of so little consequence that you would abandon them?"

The words struck at Ingwion as if they were arrows and he flinched at the coldness of his cousin’s tone. He felt tears running down his cheeks. "I have to find Ingil," he whispered, looking at them with pleading eyes, trying to make them understand. "I have to save him."

"He has already been saved," Arafinwë said, not unkindly. "Now it is your turn. Come, Cousin. Let us save you. Let the love we all bear for you save you. I could not save my own children. Let me help save you."

"But... I’m not the one who needs saving," Ingwion protested.

"If anyone needs saving, it’s you, Ingwion," Intarion said with a laugh that jarred them all.

Ingwion gaped at Intarion. "How can you say that?"

"Because it’s true."

"It is not!"

"Yes, it is."

"No!"

"Prove it then," Intarion challenged. "Show us what kind of Elf you truly are. Let us see the haryon of the Ingaran that you are supposed to be instead of this puling elfling that stands before us."

The very shock of the insult so outraged Ingwion that without thinking about what he was doing, he launched himself at Intarion, screaming at him to take it back. Intarion merely held on to him tightly. "Valandur!" he yelled. "Now! Bring us back now!"

Ingwion was too incensed to understand what was happening, but he suddenly found himself surrounded by his entire family. They all held onto him, encircling him so he could not escape and then he felt an inexorable pull and he found himself being drawn away from where he had been and he screamed his defiance, trying unsuccessfully to escape. And all the while his family held onto him, saying over and over again: "We love you, Ingwion, we love you." Even in his anger and his fear, he felt that love washing over him and at the last, his fëa exhausted beyond measure, he collapsed in Intarion’s arms and wept, the love of his family at last overwhelming him and he allowed himself to be drawn ever further away from the darkness in which he had been wandering into light....

****

Námo, monitoring Ingwë, nodded to Manwë, Irmo and Estë. "They are bringing him back. Be prepared to help sever their bonds to one another. Estë, make sure Ingwion stays grounded within his hröa."

The others nodded and then all six Elves began to shudder as their fëar returned to their hröar and the Valar were immediately aiding them, gently severing the psychic bonds between them. Estë leaned over Ingwion, monitoring his vitals. He blinked once, twice and then shuddered as his fëa settled into his hröa. His eyes focused on the Valië looking down at him. He saw concern and compassion in her fair face, but more than that, he saw her unconditional love and he broke into tears, reaching up to her and she, in turn, sat on the edge of the sofa and took him into her embrace, crooning a wordless lullaby.

In the meantime, the others were quickly recovering. Ingwë looked at Ingwion weeping in Estë’s arms. She smiled at him. "Have no fear, Ingwë. Your son has returned to you."

"Only one of them," Ingwë retorted.

"And the other will be restored to you at the proper time," Námo said, laying a hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "For now, rejoice that the one who was lost has been found and restored to you who love him."

Before Ingwë could respond, Elindis rose somewhat unsteadily from her seat and took a few tentative steps towards Estë who rose gracefully, aiding Elindis to take her place, so that soon she was sitting on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her oldest child, gently crooning a lullaby as Ingwion continued weeping. Then, Indil rose and came to stand beside her ammë and joined her in singing. Soon all of them were gathered around the sofa, singing the lullaby, their voices blending in harmony, softly lulling Ingwion into true sleep.

And the Valar stood by, watching in satisfaction, glad that this particular crisis had been averted.