In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 15: Muina Hostalë

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15: Muina Hostalë

The Privy Council meeting held the day after Intarion’s betrothal announcement was strained, to say the least. Ingoldo was a study of silent affront, still unable to accept or forgive his son for going behind his back and becoming betrothed to someone whose family he despised. Ingwion and Ingalaurë, on the other hand, were barely able to conceal their glee at their uncle’s discomfiture. The other members of the council took their cue from Ingoldo, though, not understanding the reason behind his mood, and so they too maintained a cool politeness as the council was called to order. Tamurilon, however, couldn’t resist asking with studied innocence, his eyes bright with barely contained mischief, "Did I miss anything while I was away?"

Ingwion glared at his twin across the table where Ingalaurë was rolling his eyes, before turning his attention to Tamurilon. He was hard put not to laugh at the expression of disgust that marred Ingoldo’s visage. "Actually, you did," the prince said evenly. "I was about to announce to this Council that my cousin, Lord Intarion, has officially betrothed the Lady Lirulin as of last night. The date of the nuptials has yet to be determined."

Then he sat back with a smirk as the other Council members began congratulating Ingoldo, unknowingly adding fuel to the fire of his anger. Yet, he was not so stupid as to unleash that anger on his fellow councillors, but swallowed it and his pride and, as graciously as he could, thanked everyone for their good wishes. Only Ingwion and Ingalaurë refrained from adding their congratulations to the others, for they had made their position known the night before, supporting Intarion and attempting to shield him from his parents’ wrath, which did not endear them to either Ingoldo or Tinwetariel. Tinwetariel, in fact, was in high dudgeon and had refused to leave her apartments or to speak to Intarion.

In the end, the meeting devolved into a gossip hour as several of the councillors, knowing full well Ingoldo’s views on Lirulin and her family, began discussing weddings, gently needling Ingoldo with comments about what a good match the couple made and how pleased her parents must be that the two had finally made their feelings for one another official.

"Lord Nolondur is a good manager of his estates and well respected for his business acumen," Lady Almáriel said primly, "and Lady Yáviën is a gracious hostess whose balls are the talk of Vanyamar. Their daughter, I understand, is a gifted musician. Intarion could do much worse." She gave a slightly disgruntled sigh. "I only wish my own daughter, Amarië, was suitably betrothed."

"I thought she and Prince Findaráto had an understanding," Lindórië said coyly.

"Hmph," Almáriel snorted. "So Castamir and I thought, but so far the prince has yet to come forward with a marriage proposal."

"Maybe he’s just shy," Tamurilon said with a grin.

"My cousin is anything but shy, Tam," Ingwion couldn’t help joining the discussion. "He is young though. He’s only just seen his ninth yén. Amarië is even younger, I believe." He looked pointedly at Almáriel who nodded.

"Well, I’m sure when they are ready they will make the announcement," Ingwion said smoothly. "In the meantime, unless there is pressing business to discuss I don’t think we need remain in council. I have the feeling that my cousin’s betrothal is a topic of great interest to many of you, so, if there are no objections, let us adjourn until Elenya."

With that, he rose along with Ingalaurë and the others rose as well, giving the two princes their obeisance as they left the council chamber. Passing Tamurilon, Ingalaurë clasped him by the shoulder, dragging him along. "Why don’t you come with us and you can tell us how your atar is doing. I think Indil is about somewhere. No doubt you will wish to accompany her tomorrow when we all go to Ilmarin to pay our respects to the Valar."

Ingwion hid a smile at the ingenuousness of his twin’s words as Tamurilon obediently followed the two princes out, leaving Almáriel and Lindórië and a few of the other councillors chattering away about the betrothal while Ingoldo sat there fuming.

****

"Did you see the look on Ingoldo’s face when you asked if anything had happened while you were away?" Ingalaurë laughed as he and Tamurilon entered the sitting room shared by the twins. Ingwion was already pouring them some fruit juice as they entered. He snorted in amusement as he handed out the goblets.

"I couldn’t believe you said that, Tam," he said. "That was absolutely priceless."

They saluted one another with their goblets before drinking, laughing all the while as they moved out onto the balcony that overlooked the gardens below. They leaned against the balustrade with Tamurilon in the middle looking out onto an intricate boxwood knot garden in the center of which was a fountain showing Lady Nessa, Lady Vána and Lady Yavanna dancing in a circle with their hands upraised.

"How’s Intarion taking his atar’s wrath?" Tamurilon asked more soberly.

"Surprisingly well," Ingwion said. "I think he’s just relieved to have finally done this. He and Lirulin have been waiting for too long. Our aunt and uncle are never going to accept the marriage."

"Too bad," Tamurilon said. "I like Lirulin and her atar is very astute."

"Speaking of atari," Ingwion said, "how is yours doing?"

"Did he agree to take our letter?" Ingalaurë asked.

Tamurilon nodded, turning his back on the garden to sit on the balustrade. The other two followed suit. "He is well. He was somewhat reluctant to take the letter and I had to convince him to go sooner rather than later. In fact, he will be there now, though it will be too late to seek an audience with the High King. He will try to see him tomorrow or, failing that, on Elenya."

The twins nodded. "Did you ever learn what drove him from the Privy Council?" Ingalaurë asked. "I know that the official reason was that he wished to take service to Lady Yavanna, but there were rumors of other, darker reasons for his leaving."

Tamurilon cast his eyes down, giving a sigh. "He would never speak of it to me. I’m not even sure if he told my amillë the full story. Perhaps only Ingwë knows it, for I know they spoke several times during the weeks leading up to his resignation and my appointment."

"So you do not know either," Ingwion said.

Tamurilon shook his head. "He only told me to watch myself, especially around Ingoldo, but he never gave me any specifics."

"I know Atar was grieved at his leaving," Ingwion commented. "I know he misses Cemendil terribly."

"So do I," Tamurilon confessed, his expression sorrowful.

The twins gave him surprised looks. "But you see him every so often," Ingalaurë protested.

Tamurilon looked up, shaking his head. "It is not the same, for he does not like for me to speak of the political doings in Vanyamar except in generalities. I miss talking things over with him. I miss his wisdom. These days all he wants to talk about are his stupid plants." He ended on a bitter note.

"I’m sorry," Ingwion said and Ingalaurë nodded in sympathy.

Tamurilon shrugged. "It is the way it is." Then he turned to face the garden as he took another sip of his juice and his expression lightened into a smile. "Look! There’s Indil."

The twins glanced over their shoulders to see their sister entering the garden below. With her were Intarion and Lirulin. The three ellyn grinned at one another.

"Perhaps I should go down and offer my congratulations to the happy couple," Tamurilon said slyly.

"We’ll join you," Ingwion replied and the three returned to the sitting room, putting down their goblets and exiting for the stairs that led to the gardens.

****

By the time they reached the garden, Indil, Intarion and Lirulin were seated on benches facing the fountain, speaking animatedly. The three looked up as the ellyn approached. Intarion rose with a smile and he and Tamurilon gave each other warm greetings.

"I just heard the good news," Tamurilon said. "Congratulations to you both." He turned to Lirulin sitting there shyly and bowed over the hand which she offered. "Have you decided on a day yet?" he asked them.

"That’s what we were discussing," Indil said, as she offered her own hand to Tamurilon, who ignored it to sit beside her and kiss her tenderly on the cheek, much to her embarrassment and everyone else’s amusement.

"Atto and Ammë would like to see us wed with great pomp," Lirulin said, casting a resigned look at Intarion who looked equally resigned.

Ingwion smiled knowingly. "My parents will no doubt insist as well," he said. "It is the price one must pay for marrying into royalty."

"My parents will refuse to have anything to do with it," Intarion said. "They may even try to break the betrothal."

"If they do, I assure you they will have a fight on their hands," Ingwion replied darkly, "a fight they will not win."

"And if I know Atar," Ingalaurë chimed in with a wicked smile, "he will force your parents to attend the ceremony even if he has to have them brought under guard bound and gagged."

"Ingil," his sister admonished, "that’s uncalled for. Intarion has enough grief to deal with without you adding to it with your thoughtlessness."

The younger twin looked suitably chastened. "Sorry, Cousin," he said to Intarion. "I didn’t mean to be insulting."

"That’s all right, Ingil," Intarion said with a sigh. "I know how trying both my parents are. I wouldn’t be surprised if Uncle Ingwë did just that."

Lirulin leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. "I wish they didn’t hate me so."

Intarion glanced down at her, a sad smile on his lips. "They don’t know you well enough to hate you, my love. They only know that your atar doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty even though he is a noble. They cannot forgive him for what they see as an insult to the nobility as a whole. They despise him for being willing to engage in commerce rather than joining the rest of the nobility in their useless pursuits of hunting and feasting away their lives."

"What about you, Cousin?" Ingwion asked, arching his eyebrows in mock affront. "Will you join your wife’s atar in the wine business or will you remain with us, engaging in useless pursuits of hunting and feasting?"

Intarion smiled. "Perhaps I will do both."

Ingalaurë snorted. "I cannot see you as a vintner, Cousin. You had best keep doing what you do best."

"And what is that?" Intarion demanded, his expression one of hurt and anger.

Ingwion intervened before his twin could reply. He put a hand on his cousin’s knee and gave him an accepting look. "You are a wonderful loremaster, Intarion. Valandur is well pleased with you and I know Atar depends on your council more than he lets on."

"Yet I have no seat on the Privy Council," Intarion replied angrily. "I spend my days researching the Laws and Customs of the Eldar but to what end? I have no real purpose, no real position in the government. I might just as well apprentice myself to Nolondur and go into partnership with him."

"You underestimate your worth, Intarion," Tamurilon said, breaking into the discussion. "And to tell you the truth, I’m just as glad that none of you are part of the Privy Council."

They all looked at him in various degrees of surprise. "Would you like to explain that statement," Ingwion said, "for the last time I looked, both Ingil and I are part of the Privy Council."

"But only as regents to Ingwë," Tamurilon replied equably. "Once the High King returns, your status as regents will no longer exist. I very much doubt Ingwë will ask you to sit on the Privy Council after this."

"But if we prove ourselves ably..." Ingalaurë began but Tamurilon shook his head.

"It matters not. Ingwë is wise not to have any of you on his Council. It would give him too much power."

They sat in silence for a time, digesting Tamurilon’s words. Only the splashing of the fountain and the music of birds in the trees beyond the garden itself broke the silence. Finally, Ingalaurë muttered something too low for any of them to hear, his expression one of disgust.

"So when Atar returns, we’ll be sent back to the nursery," he said in a louder voice.

"I doubt that," Ingwion said with a wry grin.

His twin glared at him. "We might as well be. He gives us power and then takes it away."z88;

"He hasn’t taken anything away yet, háno," Indil said sharply. "Do not presume to know Atto’s mind. You may indeed be dismissed from the Council upon his return, but do not think that Atto won’t reward you for your diligence and loyalty. You should have more faith in him than that."

Ingalaurë grimaced, keeping his eyes down. Ingwion watched his twin with concern, hoping his brother did not fall into resentment over this. He himself would be glad not to have to deal with the Privy Council any longer than necessary. Ingwion felt himself too unprepared for the role fate had thrust upon him in these troubling times and he had other interests anyway, interests that he had had to put aside for the time being. He was looking forward to going back to them once the High King returned.

"I apologize if anything I said upset you," Tamurilon said softly, his expression one of regret. "It was not my intent. If I’m not mistaken, Ingwë seeks out your opinions on many matters in an informal manner." He turned to Indil with a questioning look.

She nodded. "Often, after dinner, when we gather as a family, Atto will ask us for our opinions on policy. I’ve often thought he took our opinions seriously enough that he allowed himself to be swayed by them."

"Or at least, to consider them with the same degree of respect with which he receives the opinions of those on the Council," Ingwion added with a nod of agreement. "I think he uses us as a sounding board for his own thoughts, not willing to commit himself until he has heard our own opinions on the subject."

"So in a sense, you, Ingalaurë, Indil and Intarion are Ingwë’s other privy council," Tamurilon said.

"Along with Valandur and Findis," Ingwion said with a nod. He noticed a more thoughtful look on his twin’s face and was glad. Perhaps the growing resentment he had felt from Ingalaurë would be transmuted into something else, something more constructive.

Indil’s eyes widened with a thought. "I just realized something. Atto never asks for our opinions on matters of state when Uncle Ingoldo or Aunt Tinwetariel are there. He always waits until after they leave." She gave them a wide grin. "We’re his muina hostalë. Even Uncle Ingoldo doesn’t know we exist."

The smugness of her tone caused them all to laugh.

****

Muina Hostalë: Secret Council, literally, ‘secret assembly’, as there is no known word for ‘council’ in Quenya. ‘Assembly’ would be the closest in meaning, since ‘council’ is defined as ‘an assembly of persons summoned or convened for consultation, deliberation or advice’.

Atari: Plural of atar: Father.

Note: 9 yéni = 1296 solar years. At this time, Finrod is 1341 years old. By contrast, Ingwion and Ingalaurë are 3257 years old and have seen 22.6 yéni.