In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 122: Preparations for a Trial

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122: Preparations for a Trial

Manveru, it turned out, had not taken Ingwion far, only to Ilmarin, where Lord Manwë took him in hand, speaking soft words of comfort as the ellon continued weeping. They were sitting in the conservatory beside a small fountain while miniature red deer grazed contentedly before them. One of the fawns, bolder than the others, pranced over to where the Vala and the Elda were sitting, snuffling at the ellon in curiosity, as if expressing its own sympathy. Ingwion, even through his tears, marveled at the beauty of the creature and tentatively held out a hand for the fawn to sniff. The young deer licked his palm, decided it didn’t taste good and, giving a snort of disgust, gamboled off to find its dam.

In spite of himself, Ingwion chuckled as he wiped his palm on his tunic and Manwë smiled. "You see, even in our darkest hours life still has a way of surprising and amusing us."

Ingwion nestled further into Manwë’s embrace, sniffling. "He’s dead," he said forlornly. "Ingil is dead."

"Yes, he is," Manwë said softly, "and I mourn him as much as you do, though for different reasons."

"What reasons?" Ingwion asked.

"Your brother had a rare gift with words," Manwë replied. "While I and my fellow Valar rejoice in the efforts of all the Children and delight in their works, I was especially fond of Ingalaurë’s poems."

"They were just poems," Ingwion said somewhat disparagingly.

Manwë smiled, realizing what the ellon was doing. "To you perhaps because they were written by your brother and not by someone else, someone like Elemmírë."

"She’s good," Ingwion remarked.

"Yes, she is," Manwë said with a nod of agreement, "but so was your brother, and in fact, Elemmírë took him as an apprentice for a time and had Ingalaurë lived I would have accepted him as a Manwendur."

Ingwion pulled himself out of the Vala’s embrace to give him a disbelieving look. "He never told me about Elemmírë."

"He had much on his mind at the end," was all Manwë said, and Ingwion noticed a depth of sorrow in the Elder King’s eyes that he thought must match his own. Then Manwë’s expression lightened. "At any rate, when your brother is released from Mandos, I may still accept him into my service. We’ll have to see how he feels about it."

"He shouldn’t have died," Ingwion said coldly. "It should have been Ingoldo."

"No, Child," Manwë retorted firmly. "It should not have been anyone. The Eldar were created by Ilúvatar to live for all the ages of Arda. Death is an unnatural state for you, but unfortunately, it has come to you through my Fallen Brother. Ilúvatar in his wisdom has allowed this, but he has also given us the means to rectify the situation and one of those means is the ability to re-embody the dead."

"Why can’t you do it now?" Ingwion asked. "Why must we wait and for how long must we wait before Ingil is returned to us?" He frowned, his brow furrowed in deep thought, as if chasing down an elusive memory. "Lord Námo... I think he said something about it depended on Ingil and... and me. Why does it depend on me?"

"That is not an easy question to answer," Manwë said carefully. "I can only say that when your brother is re-embodied depends on a number of factors, not the least being when Ilúvatar himself grants his permission for us to do so. And so, Child, you must have patience, but more importantly, you must have estel."

"Estel," Ingwion repeated, closing his eyes and leaning against Manwë’s shoulder. "I don’t think I have any more hope for anything."

"Perhaps not at this time," Manwë said, "but I think eventually you will find it again. Without estel, Ingwion, none of us can continue."

Ingwion opened his eyes. "Including you?"

"Especially me," Manwë replied with a smile. "Now, I know for a fact that your parents are worried for you. I think you should return to Vanyamar."

"What is there in Vanyamar for me to go back to?" Ingwion asked with a grimace. "My brother, the other half of my fëa, is gone and I wish only to join him."

"But you cannot, and more importantly, Námo won’t permit it," Manwë said somewhat sternly. "Mandos is not your destiny, and you have an atar and an amillë and Indil and Intarion waiting for you. Do not dismiss their own grief, thinking you are the only one with the right to mourn for Ingalaurë’s loss. That is not only selfish, but arrogant. They need you to be there for them, no less than you need them to be there for you. It works both ways, my son." The Vala softened his tone at the end.

Ingwion felt himself reddening with chagrin at the Elder King’s reprimand and quietly apologized, not quite meeting the Vala’s gaze. Manwë gave him a brief hug and a kiss on his brow in benediction and smiled. "Go with Manveru. He will see you safely home."

And the Maia was simply there even as Manwë spoke his name, standing before them, giving his lord a bow. Ingwion stood and gave his own obeisance to the Elder King who smiled benignly upon him and then Manveru was leading him away.

An hour or so later, they reached the north gate of the city and were immediately admitted. When Ingwion entered the palace his parents began fussing over him, much to his embarrassment, but he allowed them to do so, recognizing their love for him. Manveru stood in the corner out of the way and watched with amusement.

****

"And now that we have seen to Ingalaurë, I must needs see to Ingoldo," Ingwë said to Arafinwë and Olwë as the three sat in Ingwë’s study after they had broken their fast the day after Ingalaurë’s funeral. Ingwë gave his fellow kings a grimace. "I wish I could just banish him forthwith and be done with it, but...."

"But for propriety’s sake, you cannot," Olwë said, giving his fellow king a sympathetic look.

"More importantly, the people need to see you take back your crown, and putting Ingoldo on trial is what must be done," Arafinwë chimed in. "I have spoken to a number of your nobles, Ingwë, and there are a few who still sympathize with Ingoldo, believing you truly meant to abdicate."

Ingwë snorted. "The very idea is absurd."

"Absurd to you, perhaps, but not necessarily to others," Olwë retorted. "You must accept the fact that even when all the details are given to the public, there will be some who will prefer to believe the lie simply because it suits their own purposes better than the truth." He shrugged. "That is a fact of life, and you had best get used to it."

Ingwë gave him a shrewd look. "You speak as if from experience," he said.

Olwë gave them a sardonic look. "After the Kinslaying, some of my people were as eager to blame me as Fëanáro for what happened, saying I should have given the arrogant child all the ships he wanted and sent him speedily on his merry way." The Teler snorted in derision. "Never mind that doing so may have courted a different kind of disaster, contravening the orders of the Valar. And while we Lindar have little to do with any of the Valar, save Lord Ulmo, I am not so foolish as to go against their wishes."

"Surely these people know this," Ingwë stated.

Olwë nodded. "In their hearts I believe they do, but it’s easier to blame me whom they can see, then it is to blame the Valar whom they do not see, or even Fëanáro, who will never return."

"The fact of the matter, Uncle," Arafinwë chimed in, "is that when your people needed you the most, you were not there for them and they resent it. It matters not that your absence was involuntary. I know from speaking to Eccaldamos and Valandur that many felt you had deserted them when you went to Tirion to stop Fëanáro. They do not see why you went there instead of returning here where you belong."

"Yet, I am more than just the Vanyaran, I’m the Ingaran, as well," Ingwë argued, "and as Ingaran, it was my duty to go to Fëanáro and, if nothing else, receive his oath of fealty."

"Which he did not give and never had any intention of doing so," Arafinwë pointed out. "I know that you needed to be in Tirion, Ingwë. I’m not disputing your right. I am merely pointing out how some of the Vanyar see things. Ingoldo was here and you were not and while we may all deplore his methods in taking over, the fact remains that for many of your ordinary citizens, nothing in their lives truly changed. It did not matter who warmed the throne, only that someone did, whether it be you or Ingoldo or whoever."

Ingwë grimaced at these words. "Then it should not matter to them that I am returned to Vanyamar, should it, if what you say is true."

"Ah, but there’s the rub," Arafinwë said with a malicious smile. "People are fickle in their loyalties. You apparently abdicated, and now you are back, and so what? I wouldn’t be surprised if someone petitions for you to step down from the throne in favor of Ingwion."

Both Ingwë and Olwë stared at him in disbelief. "Ingwion?" Ingwë echoed. "He’s not even in his right mind."

"But few realize this," Arafinwë pointed out. "Well, at any rate, it’s a remote possibility, but do you see what I’m driving at? And remember, I actually did walk away from my responsibilities as Noldóran and I will have to do a lot of fence-mending when I return to Tirion before I can take up the crown, so I know whereof I speak."

Ingwë gave the younger ellon a considering look. "You don’t seem particularly anxious about it."

Arafinwë shrugged. "I will deal with it as it comes. At the moment, Atar Olwë and I are here for you. If you want us to preside at the trial with you we will and if you prefer we just remain in the background and give you our silent support, we will do that as well."

"Thank you," Ingwë said gratefully. "I will let you know what I decide."

"And speaking of decisions," Olwë said, "what decision have you made concerning the fate of the guards in Ingoldo’s employ?"

"With the exception of one or two, most of them appear to be honorable ellyn who had the misfortune of being in my brother’s employ. I have evidence that Ingoldo threatened to harm their families if they did not cooperate in his plans. For them, I will show leniency. There are a few though who apparently enjoyed what they were doing and they will have to be punished for anything they may have done contrary to our laws."

"Such as beating you up," Arafinwë said with a knowing look.

"Among other things," Ingwë replied with a sigh.

"When will you hold Ingoldo’s trial?" Olwë asked then.

"Next Elenya," Ingwë answered promptly. "I wish to speak with the Valar first and will go to Ilmarin on Valanya as has been my custom. You are both welcome to join me."

Olwë nodded, then noticed that his son-in-law looked somewhat pained. "What troubles you, yonya? From what I understand, you’ve spent the last couple of years or so as Lord Manwë’s apprentice. Why this hesitancy?"

Arafinwë grimaced, then sighed as he saw Ingwë’s sympathetic look. He turned to his wife’s atar. "This goes no further than this room," he said. Olwë’s eyes widened but he nodded and after a few false starts Arafinwë told him the truth of his ‘apprenticeship’. Olwë just sat there in stunned disbelief that mutated into something that seemed like rage but was much colder.

"They dare!" he shouted in the middle of Arafinwë’s narrative, jumping from his seat.

Arafinwë rose as well, grabbing the Teler by the shoulders and hugging him. "Hush, Atar," he whispered. "It’s all right. It’s all right. I deserved what happened. Nay, do not dispute me. I asked them to do what they did. I begged them on my knees and they granted me my wish. Yes, it was humiliating, but it was also instructive and I learned much about myself and what I need to do to be a good king to my people. I have no regrets, except that I wish I’d learned these lessons much earlier. I fear as the youngest son of the Noldóran I was woefully unprepared to take up the duties and responsibilities of a crown."

It took several more minutes for Olwë to calm down enough so Arafinwë could finish his story. At the end, Olwë was forced to acknowledge that Arafinwë did appear to be far more mature than he had been. He gave his son-in-law a watery smile. "Did I not say to you that the Valar might reward you with mercy instead of thralldom? You did not believe me when I told you that mercy might be all that they would offer you and you had to decide if you would accept it or rebel against them a second time."

"And mercy is what they showed me in the only way I had left open to them," Arafinwë said equably. "So, you see, Atar, your anger, while understandable, is misplaced. The last thing the Valar need are thralls. What they need instead are... are companions, I guess is the best word I can think of at the moment."

"A good enough word," Ingwë said with a nod. "At any rate, I will go to Ilmarin, alone if necessary, though I might bring Ingwion along as well. We’ll see how he fares over the next couple of days."

****

Ingwion appeared less volatile in his moods than earlier, meekly doing whatever one of his Maiarin guards told him. He was quieter, and kept to himself, and everyone respected his right to privacy. Thus, when Valanya came, Ingwë decided to have his son and daughter accompany him to his audience with the Valar. With Ingwion came Erunáro. Arafinwë and Olwë, joined them as did Intarion, Lindarion and Valandur, leaving Elindis, Lirillë, Eärwen and Findis behind with Indis who was already hinting rather broadly that she would be leaving soon to take up residence in Lórien. So it was a sizeable group that made its way up the mountain. They were met, as was customary, by Eönwë, who gave his fellow Maia a knowing smile.

"I’ll see to Ingwion," he said. "Fionwë wants you to join him for a time." He silently sent him a set of coordinates that were not for anywhere on Arda.

Erunáro raised an eyebrow. "Don’t hesitate to call me if you need help," was all he said before fading from view.

Eönwë gave a glowering Ingwion a cold smile. "I’m sure I won’t have any trouble from you, will I?"

Ingwion looked up and blanched slightly, seeing the steely look the Maia gave him and silently shook his head. Eönwë held his gaze for a second longer than was absolutely necessary and then nodded, turning to the others with a more genuine smile. "Lord Manwë eagerly awaits your arrival." And with that, he escorted them to the audience chamber where the Valar were waiting for them. All but one. It did not escape any of the Elves’ notice, Ingwion’s especially, that Lord Námo was not there.

Coward,

Ingwion thought with a sneer even as he was giving the Valar his obeisance.

As if the Elder King knew what the ellon was thinking, he gave him a knowing smile. "Lord Námo sends his regrets," he said, "but an emergency arose involving an influx of fëar arriving in Mandos all at once and he and his Maiar are a bit hard put to dealing with them all."

"What do you mean by an influx of fëar, lord?" Ingwë asked with a frown.

Manwë’s expression darkened. "I’m afraid that battle has already been joined with Melkor and the results are somewhat devastating for your kin, Olwë."

Olwë gasped in dismay. "My brother...."

"Lives, I promise you," Manwë was quick to assure him. "Yet, it cannot be denied that the victory of the Elves of Valariandë was dearly bought. Hence, Námo is rather busy sorting out the fëar who have come to him this day."

"Wh-what about the... um...." Arafinwë started to ask but stopped, not sure how to speak of Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë without giving offense.

Manwë’s expression, indeed the expressions of all the Valar became unreadable to the Elves. "They have not yet arrived," Manwë finally replied.

The news affected the Elves differently. Olwë was naturally upset at the thought that his brother was imperiled. Ingwë was also grieved for the friend of his youth who was lost to him, wishing once again that Elwë had made his way to Aman. Valandur, who remembered Elwë and had friends among those of the Third Clan who remained behind wondered which of them now resided in Mandos along with Ingalaurë. Lindarion was anxious for his atar more than he was for an uncle he never knew, while Arafinwë pondered the significance of this news and what might be happening to his own brothers and those making their way to Endórë. Intarion, Indil and Ingwion were less affected by what they had heard. Intarion and Indil were naturally sympathetic, but their sympathy was remote, for they had no real emotional connection to anyone who might be directly affected by what was happening. Ingwion still thought Námo was acting the coward by not being there, believing that the Lord of Mandos’ Maiar could handle things well enough without him, little understanding Námo’s true role as both Judge and Consoler of the fëar who came before him.

An uncomfortable silence settled among them and then Oromë stirred, moving to stand directly before Ingwion who gazed upon the Lord of Forests with some trepidation. Oromë held Ingwion’s gaze and the ellon felt himself falling into those green- and gold-flecked eyes. At first he felt fear and something within him screamed and gibbered and wished to crawl away into a hole but then the fear melted away and though he continued to fall, and felt that he would fall forever, the fear slowly mutated into a feeling of warmth and acceptance and a profound sense of being loved, not for anything he had done, but for simply having been born, for simply being Ingwion.

He might have stood there gazing into Oromë’s eyes for only a few brief seconds or for yéni, Ingwion could never afterwards decide which, but then there was an infinitesimal shift in the Vala’s gaze and Ingwion found himself abruptly back in the audience chamber surrounded by the Valar and his fellow Elves. He blinked uncertainly as if coming awake, not sure what had transpired or even why. Oromë patted him on the shoulder, giving him a warm smile and stepped back without a word, returning to his place beside Vána.

Ingwion looked around shyly, not sure how to react or what to say. He was saved the trouble of making any decision by Manwë speaking to his atar.

"I understand you will be holding the trial for your brother tomorrow," the Elder King said. "An unfortunate state of affairs."

"One that I deem could have been avoided had I been less eager to accept your mission to go to Tirion and confront Fëanáro and simply returned home where I was truly needed," Ingwë countered in a tone that was almost as cold as the snows that surrounded Ilmarin.

"And Ingil would still be alive, you—ack!"

Ingwion suddenly found himself dangling a good six inches from the floor. Twisting slightly to see who held him, he found himself staring into Eönwë’s cold and unyielding gaze and gulped.

"Did I not tell you to behave, Little One?" the Maia said in a voice that could have scoured granite.

"My Lord Eönwë," Ingwë chimed in at that moment, sounding more amused than angry, "with all due respect, I would appreciate it if you would put my son down."

"Of course," Eönwë said without apology, gently lowering Ingwion to the floor and releasing him.

Ingwion took a couple of deep breaths and swallowed to ease the ache in his throat. Before he was fully recovered though, his atar grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, his expression now less amused. "One more word out of you and I will deal with you as your king and not your atar. Is that clear, Ingwion?"

Ingwion gulped again, his eyes wide at the import of Ingwë’s words, and nodded reflexively, afraid even to say ‘yes’. Ingwë held his gaze for a second longer then released him, turning his attention back to the Valar who had watched with interest as Ingwë dealt with his son.

"As I was saying," Ingwë began but Manwë raised a hand to forestall him.

"Ingwë, if you recall, I told all of the Vanyar to return to their homes, and that included you," Manwë said in a mild tone. "But you insisted on staying and when the situation with Fëanáro arose...."

"Yet you were the one who encouraged me, us, to go to Tirion," Ingwë insisted, nodding towards Ingwion to include him in his statement. "Would you have done so had I indeed returned to Vanyamar instead of remaining by your side?"

"And that is the question, isn’t it?" Manwë rejoined. "Had you returned to Vanyamar with the rest of your people, you may or may not have learned of Fëanáro’s march to Tirion to claim the crown. You may have decided on your own to go to Tirion. You may have taken a retinue of guards with you, guards who would have remained with you until you returned to Vanyamar, thereby frustrating Ingoldo’s plans to waylay you. The point is, my son, that none of us can ever know what would have happened had you not decided to stay by my side at that critical time. You did, and from that decision all else flows. We regret what has happened, more than you can ever imagine, but it has and all of us, you, your family, your people, and we Valar must live with the consequences of choices made or not made."

"And that is true for all of you," Varda said, her voice clear and ringing, capturing the eyes of all the Elves at once, yet each felt as if he or she was the sole object of the Valië’s regard. "You all made choices. Whether they were good choices or bad ones, whether they were the only choices you could have made, is immaterial. The choices were made and you are living out the consequences of those choices. As are we."

"I know you have many questions, Ingwë," Manwë said, "but I am not here to answer them for you. You will have to find the answers for yourself. The trial will reveal many things that have remained hidden, but it is your task to discover them for yourself and decide what you will do with the information you are given."

"I did not expect you to give me answers, lord," Ingwë said softly. He shrugged, giving the Elder King a rueful smile. "In truth, I’m not sure what I expected from you, from any of the Valar, when I came here."

"You expected us to tell you that the sacrifices made were not in vain," Manwë said gently. "I cannot tell you that. I can only tell you that you must find meaning in what has happened. We cannot dictate to you what that meaning should be."

Ingwë nodded and sighed, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. "I think I really came here to ask if in the course of the trial I must call upon the Valar or the Maiar to at least verify that something is true, that you would oblige me."

Manwë nodded. "That goes without saying. You may call upon us if you must, though we would be happy enough if you did not feel the need. At any rate, I will send Eönwë to testify on our behalf if that is needful."

Ingwë bowed and the audience seemed to come to an end, for Manwë raised his hand in blessing and without understanding how it happened, the Elves all found themselves walking through the gates of Ilmarin with Eönwë bidding them farewell. None of them felt the need to speak during the journey back to Vanyamar and when they arrived, Ingwë closeted himself with Olwë, Arafinwë and Valandur in preparation for the next day’s trial.

****

Valariandë: Quenya form of Beleriand.

Note: Manwë refers to the first great battle (unnamed) in Beleriand which occurred just prior to the arrival of the Noldor and in which the Elves’ victory was dear-bought. It was at this time that Melian created her Girdle and Thingol’s realm was named Doriath, ‘the Fenced-in Kingdom’. Later, when Fëanor and his people landed in Lammoth, it was erroneously believed by the Sindar that the Noldor had come to aid them against Morgoth at the behest of the Valar. The second battle, the Dagor-nuin-Giliath (Battle-under-Stars) occurred shortly after the arrival of Fëanor. It was so called because it occurred prior to the First Rising of the Moon.