In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 67: Persuasion Unavailing

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67: Persuasion Unavailing

There was a pounding on the door of Ingwion’s suite.

"Ingwion!" he heard Findaráto shouting from the other side. "Ingwion, for the love of the Valar, let me in! We need to talk."

Ingwion sighed, putting down his goblet of wine and the book he had been unsuccessfully reading, for he had been staring at the same page for some time and getting nowhere, his thoughts drifting to other things. He almost welcomed the interruption. Standing, he straightened his tunic and went to the door on which Findaráto was still pounding, threw back the bolt and opened it.

"Ingwi—"

The two cousins stared at one another, both with shocked expressions on their faces, though for different reasons: Findaráto had not really expected Ingwion to comply with his demand and had half expected to be walking away without a hearing, so when the door suddenly opened, he was unprepared. Ingwion almost did not recognize his cousin standing there, for the ellon’s appearance was unkempt, his hair, which normally shone with an inner light, was dull and his clothing rumpled, as if he’d slept in them for days. There were shadows under the ellon’s eyes, eyes that were red-rimmed, as if he’d been crying for some time. They also had a haunted, desperate look to them. He wondered when was the last time Findaráto had slept... or bathed.

"Well, come in if you’re coming in," was all he said in greeting, turning away to hide his shock and dismay at what he saw. "Wine?" he asked in as nonchalant a tone as he could manage, going to a sideboard and pouring some Tirion red into a goblet. "It looks as if you could use some." He heard the door softly closing and when he turned around with the goblet in his hand, Findaráto was standing there, a bemused expression on his face. In the light of the candles, Ingwion noticed details about his cousin he had not taken in earlier. Findaráto’s complexion looked pasty and Ingwion realized that his cousin was thinner, his clothes hanging off him. He wondered if Findaráto might actually be fading and the shock of that thought drove all other emotions of anger and betrayal from him.

"Finda! What has happened to you?" he demanded, putting the wine down and reaching for his cousin to take into his embrace. "You look terrible."

"You happened to me," came the dull reply. Findaráto did not return his cousin’s hug, but stood there stiff and statue-like, neither accepting nor rejecting Ingwion’s overtures.

"Now you cannot blame me," Ingwion retorted with a little anger. "Here, have some wine." He went back to the sideboard and brought the goblet back with him, motioning for Findaráto to take a seat while he replenished his own goblet before reclaiming his chair. He sat and stared at the younger ellon in dismay. "You wanted to talk," he said quietly.

Findaráto nodded, taking a long gulp of the wine, his expression blank of emotion. "I’m sorry you hate me," he said in a listless tone.

Ingwion’s eyebrows went up. "I don’t hate you, Cousin," he said truthfully. "I hate what is happening here. I hate what you are doing and what you are planning to do. After all we’ve done, I had thought...." He sighed, closing his eyes. "I fear Melkor’s malice and Fëanáro’s madness have taken too great a hold on your fëa, otornya."

A fire woke in Findaráto’s eyes, deep and smoldering. "I will not be a thrall to anyone," he hissed.

Ingwion stared at him in shock. "What are you talking about? Who’s speaking of thralldom? I was referring to this insane desire of yours to leave Aman, to leave your home, to leave me. You go to your deaths, all of you."

"You don’t know that!" Findaráto exclaimed.

"Don’t I?" Ingwion insisted, growing angrier by the minute. "Do you seriously think that the combined strength of the Noldor is a match for a Vala?" he demanded with a sneer. "Do not delude yourself, Cousin. Corrupt and fallen from grace he might be, but I wager that Melkor has not lost all his puissance. None of you have a hope of defeating him. And yet, you are determined to throw your lives away for nothing!"

"I care nothing for Fëanáro’s baubles!" Findaráto shouted, his face suffused with anger. "Let him and his sons deal with Melkor if they wish."

"Then why are you going?" Ingwion demanded in growing frustration. "What reason do you have, other than the fact that everyone else is?"

"Is that not reason enough?" Findaráto retorted, taking another gulp of wine and rising to refill his goblet, waving Ingwion away when he would have done it for him. Findaráto went to the sideboard and poured more wine into the goblet but did not resume his seat. Instead, he leaned against the furniture. "I spoke truly before. I have long felt a desire to leave these straitened lands and return to the wider world, to carve for myself a different destiny than what has been laid out before me."

"You wouldn’t have had this desire but for Fëanáro," Ingwion said wearily.

Findaráto shrugged. "Perhaps not. Perhaps I would have been content to remain here and be the good little student of Lord Aulë that everyone expects me to be while Anatar continued to rule us. But that is not what has happened. Anatar is dead, struck down by Melkor. Uncle Fëanáro is now king, though nearly two-thirds of the Noldor do not desire him and look to Uncle Ñolofinwë for guidance and leadership. And I... I am still the son of the youngest son of Finwë. Neither I nor my atar have any real standing. We’re superfluous. Fëanáro has seven sons to succeed him and after them, there is Ñolofinwë and his three sons. While death may well be waiting for us in the Outer Lands, it is unlikely that it is waiting for all of us. I doubt I will ever succeed to the Noldóran’s crown, so why not carve out a kingdom of my own?"

"You could stay here and rule," Ingwion suggested softly. "You could be king here. As estimable as they are, Eärwen and Anairë are only ellith. They cannot rule. The idea is absurd."

A ghost of a smile graced Findaráto’s lips and there was a spark of humor in his eyes. "Don’t let Artanis hear you say that. She’s all set to found her own kingdom once we reach Endórë."

"Madness! All of it!" Ingwion snarled. "You make it out to be a game with everyone claiming kingdoms that don’t exist in a land you’ve never seen. Ñolofinwë and your atar should have refused the people’s demands. Did you ever tell Ñolofinwë what Olwë said?"

"No," Findaráto answered with a grimace. "There just didn’t seem to be any point."

Ingwion snorted in disbelief. "Well, you should have. Perhaps then Ñolofinwë would have had reason enough at least to try to convince the people to remain instead of capitulating to their demands."

"Don’t blame Uncle too much, Ingwi," Findaráto said with a sigh. "Findecáno is the one you should blame. He has been set on going from the very beginning, refusing to be left behind while Nelyo goes. Those two are inseparable. Though they are cousins they might as well be brothers for their closeness. No. It was Fin who finally convinced Uncle to accept the people’s pleas and my atar would not be left behind, especially when he knew that my brothers and sister wished to leave as well."

"I was surprised that they asked you to stay behind, though I was also happy at the thought that you would," Ingwion said.

Findaráto gave him a shrug. "I suppose it’s because I never once gave them cause to think that I had any wish to leave. I kept my own desires to myself. Artanis probably suspected, but as I did not speak, she remained silent."

"And there is nothing I can say to convince you to turn from the folly of your course and remain here, is there?" Ingwion asked with a sigh of resignation.

Findaráto gave him a sympathetic look. "No. There is nothing you can do or say to change my mind."

Ingwion nodded, feeling defeated. He had not heard from Amarië and wondered if she would ever respond. It had been a desperate move on his part and he feared it was a futile one. "When do you leave?" he asked.

"I’m not sure," Findaráto answered. "There is still much that must be done. The logistics of it all is a nightmare. I’ve hardly slept or eaten in days, weeks, it seems, for all that must be done."

"You have lost weight," Ingwion observed.

Findaráto smiled grimly, running a hand through his locks. "I look a mess, I know. I’m not sure when was the last time I even bathed properly."

"Which is why I’ve been careful not to get too close," Ingwion couldn’t help saying, a teasing smile on his lips.

Findaráto smiled back, though it was faint and there was no real humor in it. "I must go. I only came to try to explain why I was doing what I am doing, to try to get you to understand...."

"I don’t think I can ever understand, Finda," Ingwion said in a serious tone. "I think you are all making a monumental mistake and I fear for all of you, but you most of all."

"Why me?" Findaráto asked, looking confused.

Ingwion rose from his chair, putting down his goblet and went to stand before his cousin, placing is hands on Findaráto’s shoulders. "Because you are to me as Nelyafinwë is to Findecáno." Findaráto gasped in shock at the revelation. "For all that you are quite a bit younger, I have always felt you to be my otorno as well as my cousin and I fear that if you leave we will never see one another again until the Remaking. I don’t want to lose you, Finda, not like this."

Findaráto stood there, staring at Ingwion, stunned, and then he looked away, breaking out of his cousin’s hold. "I’m sorry. I have to leave," he whispered as he headed for the door, refusing to look at him.

Ingwion let him go, and wondered if Findaráto had meant that he had to leave the room or that he had to leave Aman. Probably both. He sighed as the door closed, his cousin gone, and leaned against the sideboard, feeling suddenly weak and useless.

"Amarië, why aren’t you here?" he whispered.

****

"Any sign of pursuit?" Lirulin asked as she slowed her horse. Intarion, with Amarië clinging to his back, came abreast of her and glanced back. They had traveled only a quarter of the distance back to Vanyamar and a bend in the mountain road had cut off their view. In spite of the darkness the Elves were discovering that their eyesight was unimpaired. Indeed, it seemed to Intarion that his eyesight had actually improved, as if darkness were the natural state for which his eyes had been made. And of course, they were, he thought wryly.

"None that I can see," he said, giving Amarië a quick smile. "And you, how do you fare?"

"I am well, thank you," Amarië answered.

"So what now?" Lirulin asked. "Do we return to Vanyamar?"

"Not by my counsel," Intarion replied. "That’s the first place they’ll look."

"Take me to Eldamas," Amarië suggested. "I can find supplies there and a horse and go on to Tirion."

"Not alone, surely," Lirulin stated in surprise. "We’ll go with you."

"That’s very sweet of you, Liri," Amarië said, "but quite unnecessary."

"No," Intarion said. "Liri is correct. We’ll go with you to Tirion. I will have someone take a letter to Nolondur and let him know so he does not become worried when we do not return."

Amarië wanted to argue but knew it would do no good. She gave in as graciously as she could, though in truth, she was glad to have the company of her dear friends. "We should not linger," she said. "They are bound to be after us soon."

Intarion nodded. "Let us go then." With that he urged his horse to leave the road that would have taken them back to Vanyamar and headed over land, moving down the mountain to the plain below. They could not move quickly and in fact at one point they all dismounted and went on foot until they reached the plains and then mounted again.

"We should reach Eldamas in a few hours," Intarion said as he and Lirulin urged their horses into a canter. "I know an inn that is more private than most. We’ll stay there while we’re gathering supplies and then be on our way."

"Good," Amarië said. "The sooner we reach Tirion, the better. I do not want to get there to find that... that Findaráto has left."

****

After their talk, Ingwion saw no point in secluding himself and so he ventured forth from his suite, acting as if nothing had happened. If others were surprised by his sudden reappearance they gave no sign. In fact, Ingwion realized that most of them were far too busy with getting themselves ready for their departure to notice his absence or even to care. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry or elated but finally settled on feeling relieved, for no one castigated him for his being so rude as to hide himself away.

He found Findaráto in one of the hallways directing some servants in packing swords and spears into long wooden crates, covering them with straw. His cousin glanced up at his arrival and gave him a brief smile.

"Why so many weapons?" Ingwion asked.

Findaráto shrugged. "It is doubtful we will have the time or the means to craft new weapons once we reach Endórë," he replied. "At least, not right away. These are just in case."

Ingwion shook his head in befuddlement. "I really cannot believe you’re going ahead with this," he said.

"Ingwion...."

"No. It’s all right. I won’t waste my breath berating you," Ingwion replied, raising a hand to forestall Findaráto’s protest. "I don’t like it, and I don’t accept it, but I will not try to stop you."

"I’m sorry," Findaráto said sadly. "I wish I could make you understand."

"Oh, I understand," Ingwion assured him. "I just don’t approve. But that’s beside the point," he added hastily.

"And what is the point?" Findaráto demanded.

"You’re my cousin and I love you," Ingwion replied. "I would like to have your company for as long as you are willing and able to give it."

Findaráto stared at him for a moment or two, then nodded. "I was going to check on the food supplies. You want to tag along?"

Ingwion nodded and together the two cousins made their way to the nearest buttery and then Ingwion found himself helping Findaráto with the inventory.

****

It was two days later by Fëanáro’s water clock when Ingwion received news that his cousin, Lord Intarion, had arrived with his wife ‘and one other’, the page told him. He thanked the child and set off for the stables where he had been told they awaited him. He wondered if the other was Amarië and then wondered why his cousin hadn’t simply come to the front portico. As a member of the Vanyarin royal family he would have been welcomed in spite of the chaos that was everywhere. Coming out of a side door that opened up onto the courtyard fronting the stables, he spied Intarion with his golden locks and two ellith, their heads covered, standing a little to one side out of the way of everyone.

"Intarion!" he called out, waving, and saw his cousin look his way and smile. It was a look of relief. Intarion began ushering the two ellith towards him and as they came closer he could see one of them was Lirulin and the other, much to his own relief, was Amarië.

"You came," he said unnecessarily, giving both ellith hugs before greeting Intarion and then ushering them inside. "I did not know if you had even gotten my message, though Olórin said you did."

"I would have sent a reply," Amarië said, "but there was no time. If it hadn’t been for Intarion and Lirulin I would not be here." She went on to explain how her amillë had sent her to the family estate. "And I very much doubt any of the Maiar would have rescued me," she ended with a grin and the others chuckled.

"I doubt it as well," Ingwion said.

"Are we in time?" Intarion asked. "Amarië showed us your letter."

Ingwion shrugged. "I hope so, but...."

"I’ll do what I can," Amarië assured him. "I’ll do my best to persuade him to stay."

"That is all any of us can do," Ingwion assured her. "Come. I think it best if you take rooms in my part of the palace. If we are lucky, we will not meet anyone. I want you to be a surprise for Findaráto."

They all nodded and followed Ingwion as he led them in a circuitous route through servants’ corridors and back stairways until they reached the north wing and Ingwion was showing them into the suite next to his own.

"I’ll go find Findaráto and invite him to dinner," Ingwion said as the other three made themselves at home. "We can spring our little surprise on him then."

****

Findaráto knocked on the door of Ingwion’s suite and it opened almost immediately, but it was not Ingwion who opened it.

"Intarion!" Findaráto cried at the grinning ellon, as the two hugged one another. "When did you get here? Why does no one know you’re here? I’ve heard nothing of your arrival."

Intarion laughed as he pulled Findaráto inside and closed the door. "Officially, I’m not here and I decided I wanted to surprise you. And look who I brought with me." He gestured towards where a table was set up in the middle of the sitting room with settings for five. Ingwion was over by a sideboard pouring wine, but at the table were the ellith who smiled at Findaráto’s dumb-struck expression.

"Amarië!" Findaráto just stood there, frozen in place.

"Beloved," Amarië said as she held out her hand so he might kiss it. The gesture, plus a slight nudge from Intarion, unfroze him and he went over to greet his betrothed, but instead of decorously bending to kiss her hand, he pulled her out of her seat and hugged her fiercely.

"I missed you," he whispered.

"And I have missed you," Amarië replied somewhat breathlessly, then there was no more talk as she found herself being kissed.

A clearing of someone’s throat brought the two back to reality and they broke apart, looking somewhat embarrassed. Findaráto smiled shyly at his beloved before turning to Lirulin to offer his greeting. Ingwion came over and shoved a goblet of wine into his hand. Findaráto gave him a shrewd look.

"You sent for them, didn’t you?" he asked.

"I sent for Amarië, but Intarion and Lirulin came with her," Ingwion answered.

"Why?" Findaráto demanded, stealing a glance at the other three elves, though he half-suspected the reason.

Ingwion gave him a cool look. "Why do you think, Cousin?"

"You are hoping my betrothed will succeed where you failed," Findaráto retorted, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"Please, Finda," Amarië pleaded. "We are to be married. Surely you have not forgotten."

Findaráto looked at her and sighed. "I have not forgotten, my love, but...." He gave them a helpless shrug. "Everything has become more complicated since you returned to Vanyamar."

"So we’ve been told," Intarion interjected. "It still doesn’t excuse you forsaking your troth or at the least, contacting Amarië and telling her of your decision. She had to hear it from Ingwion and we had to rescue her from Amáriel."

"What do you mean ‘rescue’?" Findaráto asked in confusion.

"My amillë sent me to our country estate under guard," Amarië answered. "She was upset by the wedding being cancelled...."

"Postponed," Findaráto corrected.

"Cancelled," Amarië insisted and Findaráto flinched, "and she did not want me to go haring back to Tirion to be with you. She was very wroth, Finda, and frankly, now that I know you are leaving in truth, so am I. Do I count so little in your esteem that you would have left without saying farewell, that you would have left without me at all?"

"You cannot come, Amarië," Findaráto said, refusing to answer her accusations, for they were true and he was feeling shamed by them. "Ingwë has forbidden...."

"Ingwë is not here!" she cried, rising in her anger. "Nor does he rule me. Finda, for the love of the Valar, I beg you, do not go! Remain here and let us marry. Together we can bring healing...."

"No, love," Findaráto said sadly, taking her into his arms and rocking her. "I wish it were that simple. You just don’t understand...."

"Of course she doesn’t understand!" Intarion exclaimed in disgust. "None of us do. This whole affair is madness and Ingwion tells me that no one has even gone to the Valar for their blessing, never mind their permission."

"We don’t need their damn permission!" Findaráto shouted and instantly regretted his words when he saw the shocked expressions on the faces of his friends. There was an uncomfortable silence between them for a few minutes before Findaráto sighed, looking remorseful. "Forgive me. That was uncalled for."

"Oh, Finda!" Amarië cried, now looking distraught. "Please, don’t do this. If you love me, don’t leave me behind. Let me go with you."

Findaráto shook his head sadly. "No, Amarië. I cannot allow it. I do not have the authority and think how heartbroken your parents would be if you suddenly left."

"So, you’re all going then," Intarion said with a slight sneer. "The Noldor are deserting Aman to the last nér, leaving behind a city of ghosts, and for what, I might ask?"

"Not all are going," Findaráto informed him. "My ammë and Aunt Anairë will remain behind as regents."

"Ellith ruling?" Intarion asked in disbelief. "That’s absurd!" Then, realizing he might have said something stupid with two ellith glaring at him, he reddened and took a quick gulp of wine, but refused to apologize.

"Intarion is correct," Ingwion said. "It is absurd. It’s absurd that any of you are running away, as if you truly believe Fëanáro’s accusation against the Valar, that we are their thralls."

"I don’t believe it, never have," Findaráto stated firmly, "but I do want to see something of the world beyond these shores. For a long time I’ve felt... closed in... and I crave open spaces. Aman, as beautiful as it is, is too tame for me. I see that now. I want to explore new vistas. I think I would go even if my atar and Uncle Ñolofinwë were not going."

"What about your duties here, though?" Ingwion said. "You told me yourself that you put aside your desire to leave Aman out of duty to your people."

"And they are all leaving, save for a tithe," Findaráto countered.

"And does this remnant have no claim of duty on you, on any of you?" Lirulin asked, speaking for the first time, her voice low and accusing.

Findaráto sighed. "Yes, of course, but my ammë...."

"Eärwen and Anairë are the only ones who are being responsible here," Lirulin interrupted coldly. "The rest of you have apparently lost whatever good sense you possessed along with your sanity."

"Finda," Amarië pleaded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you. I know you love me. Is not the love we have for one another enough for you? What will you find in the Outer Lands that you cannot find here with me? Please, my love, if you will not let me come with you, then stay with me. Rule those who remain behind and I will help rule with you. Together we can make our people strong again."

"Our people?" Findaráto asked.

Amarië nodded. "When we marry, I will account myself as one of the Noldor. They will be my people no less than they are yours. Indeed, I already feel that way, have felt that way since the day I accepted your proposal."

For a long while no one spoke. Findaráto gazed at his feet, conflicting emotions crossing his face as he struggled with himself. The others remained silent, each of them hoping against hope that the ellon would see reason and agree to remain. At last, though, he seemed to come to some kind of resolution, for his expression became set, his eyes holding an infinity of sorrow.

"I’m sorry, Amarië," he whispered. "I have to go." He stood and strode to the door, refusing to look at any of them.

Before he reached the door, Ingwion spoke, his tone cold. "As you mean to leave with no intention of returning, should you not have the courtesy of dissolving the betrothal so Amarië will be free to wed another?"

There were gasps of dismay from the ellith and Findaráto felt his blood go cold. He turned around, his eyes going to Amarië who sat there looking horrified and bereft at the same time. "As you wish," he whispered, stealing a glance at Ingwion, and then, without another word, he opened the door and left. He did not bother closing the door behind him, thus he was only a few dozen steps down the hall when he heard Amarië give a wordless cry of despair and begin sobbing and then there was the sound of the others seeking to console her.

He almost went back. For a moment he was tempted to turn around, to go to his love and assure her that he would stay behind and be with her forever. His heart broke and tears streamed down his cheeks unheeded. It would be so easy to turn around, to forsake the journey and remain with his beloved, but something inside him said that that could never be.

He almost turned back.

Almost....