In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 66: Plots and Counterplots

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66: Plots and Counterplots

Ingwion refused to see Findaráto or any of the other members of the royal family, remaining secluded in his suite, ignoring all pleas from his cousin to speak with him. He was furious at Findaráto for deciding to leave with the others. The rage he felt whenever he thought of his young cousin, a rage that did not extend to the rest of the family, both surprised and frightened him. He could not understand why he was feeling such a deep sense of betrayal. Findaráto had no claim on him other than kinship and friendship. He admired his younger cousin, had even secretly envied him his easy way with others as well as his wisdom, for Ingwion did not think of himself as being wise, and stood in awe of the deep thoughts that Findaráto sometimes shared with him. His cousin seemed so much older than his years, older than Ingwion at least, even though he had seen nearly twenty-three yéni while Findaráto had seen only nine.

He wondered what he could do to convince Findaráto not to go with the others. Surely it made sense that someone should remain behind to govern the Noldor who would not leave, and who ever heard of an elleth ruling? Ridiculous! He could not imagine his sister doing so, though he reluctantly admitted to himself that she was probably better at it than either he or Ingalaurë. Still, it didn’t necessarily follow that she should.

Valar! This was getting him nowhere. He plopped down on a settee and glowered at nothing in particular, sitting in the dark, for he had not bothered to light any of the tapers and had refused the servants entry into the suite. He ordered food to be brought on a regular basis but otherwise he preferred to be left alone. He contemplated simply leaving. There was naught he could do here. He knew his cousin well enough to know that once Findaráto made up his mind to do a thing, nothing and no one could sway him from his course. He seriously doubted that even the Elder King himself could do so.

But perhaps there was someone who could persuade his stubborn cousin not to go. Hmm... with the right incentive to stay....

He stood up and went to the writing desk overlooking the gardens, though in this infernal ever present darkness there was little to see. He found the tinder box and quickly lit a couple of candles, then rummaged about for paper, sitting for the longest time idly sharpening a quill while deciding just how to phrase his plea. When he was satisfied, he dipped the quill into the ink and began writing. His first attempt did not please him, however, and he wadded the paper up and threw it on the floor, grabbing another sheet. It took three more tries before he finally decided he had worded his missive just right. Satisfied, he threw drying sand onto the paper, then sealed the letter with his personal seal. Rising, he went to the door and opened it, hoping to spy a servant but the corridor was empty. He sighed and went back inside. He could either wait until someone came with the next meal or go out and perhaps risk bumping into one of the family. He was loath to do so. The last thing he wanted was to encounter anyone, especially Findaráto. Servants were fine, but anyone else....

He needed to get this letter sent quickly. Time was running out. He wasn’t sure just when the Noldor intended to leave, but he knew that it would not be long before all was ready. He paced the floor, thinking out his options. For his plan to work it was important that no one knew of the letter. Servants would gossip even when ordered not to and he could not risk going to anyone in the family and asking for the loan of a courier. They were all expecting him to leave, he had no doubt, and in truth, he had no real reason to stay except out of a perverse sense of duty to his atar. He felt that someone needed to stand as witness to the madness of the Noldor and give a true and accurate report of all that was happening to the High King. Everyone would wonder at his sending a letter to Vanyamar rather than simply leaving himself.

He sighed, wondering if he could sneak out of the palace and find someone willing to take the letter for him, but he doubted he could in fact sneak out at all and he did not think there would be anyone going to Vanyamar when they were all too busy making swords and packing.

Blast! What was he to do?

He went out onto the balcony that overlooked the garden. He stood there, breathing in the heady scents, amazed that even in the darkness the flowers still bloomed. He stared up into the heavens, marveling yet again at the purity of starsong he could just make out if he listened very carefully. The stars were so high and remote, untouched by the little doings below, uncaring of the anguish and fear and despair that gripped them all. He sighed and lowered his eyes to scan the garden below. He breathed again the scents, trying to identify them. Roses and honeysuckle and was that lilac? He wasn’t sure, but something niggled in the back of his mind. Something he knew without knowing that he knew. Something to do with scents....

He gasped in surprise as the knowledge came to him and he glanced around to see if there was anyone there. Of course, there wasn’t. He was not sure what the time was but he vaguely remembered that dinner was some time ago and the servants had not yet come with his breakfast so it must be very late. All would be sleeping and indeed, glancing on either side of him he saw no other lights shining from the rooms in the other wings.

Wondering if he was just going to make a fool of himself, he took a deep breath and said in a voice that was just above a whisper, "If there are any Maiar about, I really need your help."

Nothing. Not even a whisper of the wind. Maybe he had to shout. Maybe if there were Maiar they were somewhere else in the city or perhaps there were none around anyway. That would make sense, he supposed. Why would the Maiar be wasting their time watching the Noldor go insane? He shook his head and grimaced. Well, it was just an idea. He’d have to think of some other way to get the letter out. He turned to go back inside, figuring he might as well try to get some rest himself and then halted in shock as he spied a figure standing in the middle of the room. The two lit candles gave little illumination and the figure was cast in shadow.

Then it bowed. "Greetings, Prince. I am Olórin of the People of Manwë. How may I be of service."

Ingwion felt his knees go weak and he had to force himself to remain steady. "I... I need this letter delivered," he said and cringed at the realization of what he was actually doing. Ask one of the Maiar to act as a courier, a servant? What was he thinking? "I’m sorry. I know I have no right...."

"To whom do you wish the letter be given?" Olórin asked, his expression sympathetic.

"Do you mean it?" Ingwion asked in surprise.

"I live to serve, Prince Ingwion," the Maia said, holding out his hand. "It is for this reason that I was created."

"Yes, but you serve the Valar," Ingwion pointed out. "I am just a... a mirroanwë."

"Thou art a Child of Ilúvatar," Olórin said, "and for that reason alone art full worthy of my service. Indeed, it is the greatest joy for any of the Ainur, be they Maiar or Valar, to be of service to you Children. It is truly why we were created."

Ingwion was not sure he understood what the Maia was saying; he only knew that Olórin was willing to aid him and that was enough. "Then, if it pleases you, my lord, I beg that you deliver this missive into the hands of the Lady Amarië and into her hands alone." He proffered the letter and the Maia took it, giving Ingwion a bow.

"It will be my pleasure, Ingwion," he said.

"You... you do not ask why...."

"Does the courier ask why?" Olórin countered. "It is not for me to know the reason for the letter nor to know of its contents." Then he paused and gave the prince a slight smile. "Is there to be a reply?"

"What? Oh, you mean should you wait for her to reply? No... no. There is no need but if you would let her know that she can prevail upon you or one of your brethren...."

"I will let her know," Olórin said. "I will not be able to remain long for my lord has not released me from my duties here in Tirion, but I can certainly take the time to deliver this missive. I will ask one of my brethren to be ready to deliver a message from the lady if necessary."

"Thank you," Ingwion said fervently. "When I called I did not know if any would hear me."

"Ilúvatar always hears His Children," Olórin said enigmatically and faded from view.

Ingwion stood there for the longest time in wonder and then found himself yawning. He blew out the candles and made his way to his bedroom, readying himself for bed in the dark. Five minutes later he was fast asleep.

****

Amarië sat in a bower overlooking the garden of the estate owned by her atar. True, their family normally resided in their own apartments within the palace, for both her parents were high-ranking members of the nobility, but Castamir also maintained this small estate about two miles away from the city, nestled in a fold of the mountains. She was not happy to be there, but her amillë had given her no choice. Amáriel had been furious at the news that the wedding had been, if not canceled, certainly postponed.

"That’s what we get for seeking to marry you to a Noldo," she snarled when given the news. "Why you could not have found an ellon among the Vanyar to your liking...."

"You are the one who kept pushing the marriage with Findaráto," Amarië retorted incautiously and instantly regretted her words, but it was too late. Amáriel had banished her to the family estate under guard, unimpressed by the fact that she was now a lady-in-waiting to Lady Indis — "Who is more Noldorin than Vanyarin anyway", Amáriel had snarled — and there she went, furious at her parents, for Castamir did not gainsay his wife’s order, and furious at Findaráto for being so cowardly.

That fury lasted only for a day or three, and then was replaced with a resignation bordering on despair. She spent most of her waking hours sitting in the bower, staring at nothing, pretending to work on her embroidery, but in reality simply sitting there brooding. Besides, even with braziers providing her with light, she was finding it difficult to actually see what she was working on. She had no idea just how much she had depended upon the Light of the Trees and now that Light was supposedly forever quenched and they were doomed to live with only starlight to guide them. The thought was depressing and she glowered futilely at the twinkling lights above her, cold and distant and uncaring.

Then a powerful scent of rosemary mingled with asëa aranion assaulted her senses and she found herself staring into the kindly face of a Maia. The sudden appearance shocked her and she gave a startled gasp and cringed.

"Fear not, child!" the Maia said gently. "I mean you no harm. I am Olórin of the People of Manwë and I have a message for you."

"M-m-message?" she managed to squeak, trying to calm her racing heart.

For an answer, the Maia held out a piece of vellum that she could see was sealed. She stared at it in confusion. Olórin gave her a compassionate smile.

"It helps if you take it," he said.

"What? Oh, yes, of course," Amarië replied, taking the proffered letter and trying not to blush. "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so stupid...."

"Not at all, my dear," Olórin replied smoothly. "I was told that an immediate reply is not necessary and indeed I must not linger, but if you require to send a message back, I have arranged for one of my fellow Maiar to come. You merely need to call out her name." He told her the name and with a bow disappeared.

For a long time, Amarië just sat there staring at the letter in her hand, then she looked closely at the seal and knew it was from Ingwion. Curious, she broke the seal and began reading. She read it through four times before Ingwion’s words began to sink in.

"No!" she whispered vehemently. "I won’t let him." She was about to call out the Maia’s name but stopped to think things through. She needed to get away but was unsure that she could do so without help. She was, for all intents and purposes, a prisoner here. The servants answered only to Lady Amáriel. No. She needed allies. Nodding to herself she called out softly a single name.

"Sáyandilmë."

Almost at once the scent of lilacs, mint and the musky fragrance of some plant she could not name filled the air and another Maia stood before her.

"Greetings, child," Sáyandilmë said. "You wish for me to deliver a message to Prince Ingwion?"

"Yes, but not just yet," Amarië answered. "First I need you to go to Lord Intarion with a message."

The Maia raised a delicate eyebrow but said nothing.

"I am a prisoner here," Amarië felt the need to explain. "I cannot freely leave, but I must go to Tirion. Intarion can help me."

Sáyandilmë nodded. "What message do you wish me to give him?" she asked.

Amarië breathed a sigh of relief and for the first time in a long time, she smiled. "I believe he is residing in the home of Lord Nolondur. Go and tell him...."

When she was finished, the Maia nodded once again and then without another word vanished, leaving behind the faint scent of lilacs and mint. Then, Amarië waited.

****

Lirulin sat in the family library as Intarion went over accounts with Nolondur while she was sewing a tear in one of Intarion’s tunics. She enjoyed watching them working together. She had such a warm feeling of contentment and occasionally, when they remembered that she was there, they would ask her opinion about something, listening gravely and not necessarily dismissing her thoughts as inconsequential.

"In spite of the lack of light, the grapes are still growing," Intarion was saying as he pushed a ledger towards Nolondur to examine. "I’m not sure how that is possible and can only think that it is the will of the Valar that has allowed all our produce to flourish."

Nolondur nodded as he looked over the ledger. "Yes. I imagine that’s true. In that case...."

He got no further, for there was suddenly the smell of lilacs and mint and some other more elusive scent that filled the air and then a Maia stood in the middle of the room. Lirulin gasped and struggled to rise even as Intarion and Nolondur also rose to bow, but the Maia stayed them with a gesture.

"There is no need," she said tranquilly. "I have a message for Intarion from Amarië."

"A message!" Intarion exclaimed. "And from Amarië? Has she returned then from Tirion? Or..."

"She is presently at her family’s estate," the Maia replied, "and she begs you for friendship’s sake to come to her as soon as you may."

"But why would a Maia be acting as a go-between?" Intarion asked, his expression one of confusion. "How did she even...."

"It matters not, child," the Maia replied with a smile. "Lady Amarië is presently a prisoner at her atar’s estate. She cannot leave of her own free will, but she is allowed visitors."

"But...."

"Your questions will be answered if you go to her, Intarion," the Maia said firmly. "I have done my part and I bid you peace." With that she disappeared and the three Elves stood there in stunned silence for a time.

Then Lirulin stirred. "Why would Amarië be a prisoner in her own home?" she asked. "We must go to her at once, my love."

"We?" Intarion replied with a quirk of his lips. "I believe the invitation was for me, dearest."

"Oh pooh! You ellyn know nothing. Amarië needs another nís who is sympathetic. Come, Intarion, we are wasting time. Let us go see what the poor elleth wants of you. I can only imagine it was that dreadful Amáriel’s doing, sending her to the estate under guard."

Intarion gave Nolondur a helpless look which the older ellon returned with a grin. "Do as your wife tells you, my son," he said. "It’s always easier that way."

Intarion snorted but did not contradict his wife’s atar. "I’ll see to the horses," he said to Lirulin and together they went out, leaving Nolondur to ponder the meaning of a Maia acting as a courier for one of the Eldar.

****

One of the guards approached Amarië as she was making her way towards her bedroom and bowed. "The Lord Intarion and the Lady Lirulin are at the front gate seeking entrance, my lady," the ellon said respectfully. Whatever they might think of her or their own orders, she was treated with respect by the guards and those in attendance to her, though Lirulin knew that they all answered to her amillë.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Amarië said, evincing surprise. "Thank you, Vëandur. I was thinking of asking my amillë if I might have visitors. It is so lonely here without my friends. Please bid them enter. I will see them in the library. Ask one of the servants to see that they have food and drink and I will be with them presently."

The guard bowed and turned to follow her orders. Amarië continued to her bedroom where she encountered one of her maids, ordering her to help her change into something more suitable for receiving guests. Some minutes later she was making her way to the library and was surprised to see Vëandur standing before the closed door. He gave her an apologetic look.

"I have my orders, lady," he said. "Visitors you may have, but I cannot leave you alone with them."

"Then why don’t you just have me chained to a wall and be done with it," she hissed in anger and had the satisfaction of seeing the ellon blush, then instantly regretted her words, for he and the others were as much prisoners of her amillë’s spite as she was. "I am sorry. I know you are only doing your duty," she said quietly, "but please, can I not have some privacy? I am frankly amazed that you even allowed Lord Intarion admittance."

"Lord Intarion is of the High King’s household," Vëandur said. "I would not willingly defy one who has the High King’s ear even for the Lady Amáriel’s sake."

"But my amillë also has the High King’s ear, being one of his chief advisors," Amarië pointed out.

"But Lady Amáriel is not blood-kin to Ingwë Ingaran," the guard retorted mildly with a smile. Then, before she could offer a reply, he stepped aside and opened the door. "I will remain here, my lady. Please do not abuse my trust."

Amarië gave him a grateful look. "Thank you. I will try not to," she said, knowing that if things worked out as she hoped she would be doing just that, but she pushed that thought away. She was needed in Tirion and nothing and no one, not even her amillë, was going to prevent her from going to the side of her beloved.

She stepped inside and warmly greeted the two waiting there. "Intarion, Lirulin, what a pleasant surprise. But how did you know to find me here?"

"Oh, Amarië," Lirulin replied with a light laugh as she greeted her with a warm hug and kiss. "It was not difficult to learn that you had returned from Tirion or where you were hiding yourself. Intarion and I decided to come and see how you were faring."

"I am faring as well as one can expect under the circumstances," she said as she accepted Intarion’s kiss of welcome. "Come, let us sit and you can catch me up on all the gossip in court. Is it true that Lady Lindórië has been seen wearing nothing but grey, claiming she is in mourning for the death of the Two Trees?"

Even as she was saying this, Vëandur was closing the door. As soon as she heard the door click close she sighed. "Thank you for coming so quickly," she whispered. "You do not know how dreadful it all has been."

"Tell us," Intarion commanded, his expression intent. Lirulin’s own mien was no longer gay and frivolous.

Amarië did not answer immediately but pulled out Ingwion’s letter from where she had hidden it inside her bodice and handed it to Intarion, who opened it and began reading with Lirulin looking over his shoulder.

"This is bad," he said at last. "I think the entire world is slowly going insane."

"Well certainly the Noldor," Amarië retorted with a snort of disgust.

Intarion shook his head. "Not just they," he countered. "I’ve heard rumors...." He stopped, obviously reluctant to speak of these rumors and shook his head. "Well, that is neither here nor there. Let us concentrate on the matter at hand. What exactly do you wish from me, Amarië? Do you want me to go to Tirion?"

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "I need help in getting away from here. It is I who must go to Tirion."

Intarion and Lirulin glanced at one another, some sort of communication passing between them that Amarië did not catch. Then they looked at Amarië. "What you wish may not be possible, my dear," Lirulin said, patting her knee. "You are surrounded by guards. I do not see how we can sneak you past them."

"Sneaking is what they are expecting," Intarion interjected, his eyes darkening in thought. "The last thing they will be expecting is for you to simply bolt."

"What are you suggesting, then?" Amarië asked, curious.

Intarion smiled. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Intarion," Amarië exclaimed, "else I would not have sent for you as I did."

Intarion nodded. "Then, this is what we will do....."

****

The door to the library opened unexpectedly and Vëandur straightened his spine. He was not expecting the visit to end so soon.

"...and I’ll see you to your horses," he heard Lady Amarië say to her guest. "You must remember to give your atar and ammë my love, Lirulin."

"I will, Amarië," the elleth replied, "and perhaps we may visit another time."

"That would be lovely," Amarië said as she and her guests headed out of the house and towards the front gate with Vëandur hastily following. Amarië called out for her guests’ horses to be brought to the gate.

The guard was not expecting any trouble, for had not the lady given him her word? Thus, when the two horses were led out and Lord Intarion helped his wife to mount her palfrey even as the gate was being opened, the last thing Vëandur or anyone else expected was for the lord to suddenly throw a punch at him, hitting him squarely on the jaw so that he fell in a heap, not quite unconscious but certainly incapacitated. The hapless ellon saw the lord jump upon his horse and quickly haul Lady Amarië up behind him and then he and the Lady Lirulin were riding out of the gate before anyone else could stop them, stunned by the unexpected attack.

"Don’t just stand there like fools. After them!" Vëandur managed to utter as he struggled to his feet with the help of one of his fellows.

There was an instant flurry of activity as horses were called for but Vëandur had a sinking feeling that it was too late. He wondered what he was going to say to Lady Amáriel and at that moment he wished he were in anyone else’s service but hers.

****

Mirroanwë: An incarnate.

Nís: Female of any sentient species.