In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 81: Abdication and Acquiescence

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81: Abdication and Acquiescence

Ingalaurë woke to a blinding headache. He moaned with the pain and shut his eyes again. He sensed movement around him but was too lost in his own misery to pay much attention. Then he felt someone lift his head and there was a goblet pressed against his lips and he automatically opened his mouth. Clear, cool water washed down his throat and he sighed with relief as his head was lowered once he had finished drinking. He ventured to open his eyes again. A quick glance about told him he was in his own room. He frowned, trying to remember how he’d gotten there.

"How are you feeling?"

He looked to his left and saw Indil looking down at him, her expression worried.

"What happened?" he rasped, struggling to sit up. He gave a small moan as dizziness assailed him and Indil was there immediately, helping him to a sitting position.

"We were caught, obviously," she said brusquely even as she gently eased him back against the pillows.

"Ammë?" Ingalaurë asked.

Indil shook her head as she pulled up a chair and sat. "I don’t know," she answered despairingly. "When we were brought back here, Uncle Ingoldo threw me in here with you and told me to tend to you. Ammë and Tam...." she stifled a sob. "I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t think Uncle will hurt Ammë, but Tam...."

Ingalaurë struggled to come up with some platitude that would cheer his sister but his heart was sinking fast and he saw no hope for them.

"What about Ingwi and the others?" he asked, fearing the answer. "Were they caught as well?"

Indil sighed. "I don’t know that either. I don’t think so or I’m sure Uncle would be here gloating." She gave him a sour look and in spite of things, Ingalaurë found himself grinning. Then the grin faded as he took in the implications of their plight.

"How long was I out, do you know?" he asked.

"Perhaps a few hours," Indil answered with a shrug. "It’s so hard to tell now."

Ingalaurë sighed and shifted to climb out of the bed, clinging to the edge when everything lurched for a second before settling down.

"Should you be getting up?" Indil enquired with a look of concern, even as she lent him her arm for support.

He gave her a sour grin. "It’s not a question of ‘should’ but ‘must’," he answered. He took a deep breath against the dizziness he was still feeling and lurched out of the bedroom and into the sitting room and then made his way towards the privy which he shared with his brother. Indil saw him to the door and then let him go. When he came out about ten minutes later, she was sitting in Ingwion’s chair at the small table where the brothers often shared meals with friends when they were not required to eat with the family. There were a couple of covered dishes on the table.

"Is Ingwion’s room open?" he asked as he re-entered the room.

"Yes," Indil nodded. She gave him a shy look. "I... uh... slept there."

He nodded as he took his own seat across from her, and then noticed that she was no longer dressed as a commoner but was wearing one of her less ornate day robes. She must have noticed his look because she blushed slightly. "Uncle Ingoldo allowed one of the maids to bring me some changes of clothing," she explained.

"At least he hasn’t forgone all sense of propriety," Ingalaurë replied with a sniff. "Which reminds me. I think I will change as well. This tunic is feeling a bit ripe."

"Eat first," his sister insisted, removing the covers from the dishes to reveal some slices of cold venison along with some fruit and cheese and slightly stale bread.

Ingalaurë was going to decline but then realized that he was feeling famished and thought that perhaps food would help rid him of his headache. He nodded and began nibbling on a piece of cheese while Indil rose and went to the sideboard and poured some cider into a goblet.

"I don’t think you should drink any wine just yet," she said as she handed him the goblet and he nodded in agreement. Then silence settled between them. Ingalaurë continued eating, and when his hunger was somewhat appeased he asked a question.

"What should we do now?"

Indil’s eyebrows went up and her expression was one of disapproval. "There is nothing we can do," she said. "There is no escape from here. I’m sure Uncle will be along soon enough. Perhaps we’ll learn what has happened to the others. I can only hope that Ingwi at least is free, even if no one else made it out of the city. He is more important than the rest of us."

"Including me?" Ingalaurë demanded angrily, hurt by her words.

She gave him a startled look. "No. That’s not what I meant," she protested. "I only meant that if Uncle Ingoldo had all of us in his clutches then...." She gave him a half-apologetic shrug. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you weren’t important. I just hope one of the family is free to find Atto. I think that as long as one of us is free, Uncle will not be feeling so sure of himself."

Ingalaurë glared at his sister for a moment, still hurt by the implications of her words, but decided it wasn’t worth getting into a fight with her about it. He was worried about what Ingoldo might do with their ammë. He would feel much better if they were all locked in the same suite together. He hoped that now that he was awake and in no further need of tending that Indil would not be moved to her own suite but would be allowed to remain. He dreaded being left alone to wonder and worry about his family’s fate.

He shook his head and winced at the pain. Indil noticed and stood up and went around to stand behind him, caressing his temples. "Why don’t you bathe?" she suggested. "It will help your headache. You were out for so long I feared you would never wake, but Uncle refused to send a healer to look at you."

"I wonder why?" Ingalaurë asked, frowning. "I would think he would want to be assured of my continuing good health. A dead hostage is of no value to anyone."

He heard Indil gasp in dismay but did not bother to try to comfort her. Instead, he struggled to rise and Indil moved away to give him room. "I guess I’ll take your advice and have a bath," he said, heading for his bedroom and the bathing room beyond, leaving Indil alone in the sitting room.

****

Ingalaurë felt marginally better for the bath and clean clothes. When he emerged from the bedroom he found Indil where he had left her but now she was not alone. Ingoldo was there, along with his chief guard, Tulcaner, who stood by the door leading to the outside hall. Ingoldo was looking both smug and worried as he glared at Ingalaurë.

"About time you awoke," he growled.

"Next time, order your thralls not to hit so hard," Ingalaurë retorted, walking over to the sideboard, ignoring the glares of both Ingoldo and Tulcaner. He poured himself more cider, wishing it were wine, but he knew better than that. He turned around to face his uncle, noticing how white Indil was as she sat at the table, nervously plucking at her skirts.

"Where’s Ammë and Tam?" he asked Ingoldo. "You had better not have done them any harm...."

Ingoldo was on him in a flash, knocking the goblet from his hand and grabbing the placket of his tunic, his eyes dark with restrained fury. "Don’t threaten me, seldo!" he hissed softly. "You’re not in a position to do anything but what I tell you to do."

Ingalaurë felt himself trembling, hating himself for it. He tried to out-stare his uncle but in the end it was he who lowered is gaze, feeling sick with fear. For a moment longer, Ingoldo held him in his grasp and then let him go, stepping back with a satisfied look on his face.

"Your Ammë is safe and unharmed," he informed them. "Tamurilon on the other hand...."

Ingalaurë looked up even as Indil gasped, her expression fearful for her beloved. "What have you done with him?" Indil demanded, rising to face Ingoldo.

Ingoldo smirked. "Nothing. And if you want me to continue doing nothing to him, you will sit down and be quiet."

The threat was not an idle one and when Ingalaurë caught his sister’s eyes, he gave her a small nod. Reluctantly she sat, white-faced and trembling, but there was a look of hatred in the depths of her eyes that saddened Ingalaurë and he silently cursed his uncle for being the cause. Ingoldo, meanwhile, motioned for Ingalaurë to step aside so he could pour himself some wine. Only when he was done did he speak again.

"Elindis is well, I assure you," he said.

"We’d like to see her," Ingalaurë replied.

Ingoldo shook his head. "Not at this time, but if you behave yourselves, I will perhaps permit you to visit for a few minutes."

"What do you want, Ingoldo?" Ingalaurë demanded.

His uncle raised an eyebrow at Ingalaurë’s tone but let it go. "Your Atar has abdicated...."

"WHAT!!!" both brother and sister exclaimed at the same time, the shock on their faces nearly identical.

"That’s a lie!" Ingalaurë insisted angrily. "Atar would never...."

"Be silent!" Ingoldo shouted, even as he reached inside his tunic and pulled out a piece of parchment. "You can read it yourself." He thrust the document at Ingalaurë and took a swig of his wine, then began refilling his goblet.

Indil rose and went to where Ingalaurë was standing, staring at the parchment, which appeared authentic in all particulars, right down to Ingwë’s personal signature. Ingalaurë felt a rising sense of dread and hopelessness within him as he glanced at the document.

"I still don’t believe it," he said, thrusting the document into Indil’s hands as he glared at Ingoldo, whose expression was one of indifference. "This has to be a trick. Atar would never abdicate, and certainly not to you."

His uncle shrugged, taking a sip of wine. "It matters not if you believe or disbelieve," he said. "All that matters is that everyone else believes it. I will be making the announcement when I convene the court."

"How do you hope to get away with it?" Indil demanded tightly.

"Because my brother is in my power, as are you," Ingoldo replied sharply.

"What have you done with Atto?" Ingalaurë asked, fearing the answer but needing to know.

"Nothing," Ingoldo answered. "And I will continue doing nothing as long as I have your cooperation. The same goes for your amillë."

Ingalaurë felt the blood rushing from his face at the implications of his uncle’s unspoken threat. "Ingwion will stop you," he said softly.

Ingoldo snorted. "Ingwion is not your concern," he replied. "Your parents are. Do as I say, cause me no trouble, and they will continue to enjoy good health. Give me any grief, and they will be the ones to suffer and you will know that you are responsible for their suffering."

"You... you...." but Ingalaurë did not even have any words for what Ingoldo was. Spawn of Melkor came to mind, but he stopped himself from saying it, knowing his uncle would not appreciate it and might even retaliate in some terrible manner. He swallowed nervously, wanting desperately to wipe the smirk off Ingoldo’s face, but even more, he wanted to wipe the smirk off Tulcaner’s. "So, you will declare yourself High King," he finally said.

Surprisingly, Ingoldo shook his head. "No. You will."

"What!?" Ingalaurë and Indil shouted at the same time.

Ingoldo’s smirk broadened. "You did not read the writ of abdication carefully enough. If you had you would see that Ingwë gives the crown to you."

Ingalaurë motioned for Indil to hand over the document. This time he read it carefully. Ingoldo had spoken the truth: there was his name mentioned as his atar’s successor. He, not Ingwion, which made no sense. Whatever his atar said about both his sons being his heirs, Ingwion was the elder twin. His name should be on the document, not Ingalaurë’s. He glanced up at Ingoldo.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why my name?" Ingalaurë said, waving the piece of parchment. "Everyone knows Ingwion is the true heir...."

"Do you really know that?" Ingoldo retorted with a smile. "So much confusion in the birthing chamber... who’s to say which twin is the first to be born?"

There it was: the niggling doubt that perhaps Ingwion wasn’t really the elder twin. The dream or nightmare he had had came back to him and he couldn’t help wondering. Yet, at the same time, this was Ingoldo speaking. How could he truly trust anything the ellon said? His parents loved him and would never knowingly lie to him. And he loved Ingwion and would never stand in the way of what was his by right. Yet, what if in this one instance, his uncle was telling the truth? What did Ingoldo actually gain by lying about who was born first? He thrust the thought away along with the memory of his nightmare and threw the document to the floor in disgust

"Everyone is going to know this is a fake," he said. "Everyone knows that Ingwion is the true heir. Atar would never abdicate in favor of anyone else, not even me."

"Well, neither Ingwë nor your brother are here to protest," Ingoldo said with assurance.

"But how will you convince anyone that this is real when Atto isn’t even here to hand the crown over?" Indil asked. "People are not going to accept this on your word only. They will demand that the High King appear and personally declare his intentions."

Ingoldo pursed his lips, as if thinking, then shook his head. "I’ll think of something," he said with a smug smile. "I always do." Before either sibling could protest, he stooped down to retrieve the document, thrusting it back inside his tunic, and headed for the door, where Tulcaner stood aside to open it. "In the meantime, I would prepare myself for the task at hand."

"Which is?" Ingalaurë asked.

Ingoldo turned about. "Which is to ready yourself to become the next High King."

"With you as my most trusted advisor, no doubt," Ingalaurë said with a snort of disgust.

Ingoldo smiled. "But of course. That’s the whole idea. Everyone thinks that all I’ve wanted is the crown, but in that they have been mistaken. All I’ve wanted is the power. You may have the crown, Nephew, but I will have everything else. I will give you a few minutes with your amillë. Explain to her how important it is that she cooperates. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Ingwë... or you."

With that, he left. Tulcaner gave them a leer and closed the door, leaving brother and sister alone. Indil stared at Ingalaurë, her expression one of hopelessness. "What are we going to do?" she whispered.

Ingalaurë shook his head. "For the moment, nothing. We will have to play this game as Ingoldo wishes, but be vigilant. A time may come when we will be able to defeat our uncle in his own game."

Indil nodded, a look of determination stealing over her countenance and Ingalaurë was glad. He had the feeling he would need his sister’s strength and determination for himself in the days to come.

****

The meeting with their amillë took place in the queen’s suite and was brief indeed, just long enough to ascertain that each was well and to discuss Ingoldo’s plan. The guards who had escorted them were unknown to them, and Ingalaurë suspected they had been recruited by Ingoldo. It was a not-so-subtle reminder that any attempt to solicit the guards’ sympathy was doomed to failure.

"It will never work," Ingalaurë insisted after he told Elindis what Ingoldo intended. "No one is going to believe that Atto is abdicating."

"Ingoldo has been plotting this for some time, I fear," Elindis said wearily. "I think he will make it work because he wants it to."

"So what do we do?" Indil asked despairingly.

Elindis gave her a warm hug. "What we can." Then she looked at Ingalaurë. "You are still my champion, yonya. For the moment, do as Ingoldo wishes. A time will present itself for us to act, and you must be ready."

Ingalaurë nodded, swallowing hard. "I will do my best," he said. "I just hope Ingwion finds Atto soon and rescues him."

"You don’t think he’s being kept here in the city?" Indil asked.

Ingalaurë shook his head. "No. I think Ingoldo had him waylaid and taken to some hiding place where no one would think to look, at least, not immediately."

"We must keep faith that your brother will find your atar and restore him to us," Elindis said firmly. "In the meantime, do nothing, either of you, to incite Ingoldo’s wrath."

Brother and sister nodded and then their time was up. Indil wept but Ingalaurë kept his expression blank. He was not going to give their guards the satisfaction. When they returned to their suite, Ingalaurë discovered a set of court garb laid out on his bed. He sighed. Ingoldo was obviously not wasting any time. He heard someone step inside the room and turned to see two of his body servants there, looking fearful.

"We were told to help you dress, Highness," one said.

Ingalaurë nodded, knowing he had no choice here. "Let’s not keep my uncle waiting, then," he told them and proceeded to strip off his tunic.

****

Court was mercifully short with very little elaboration. Ingoldo had called all the most important people of the city to attend, as well as the nobles and the members of Ingwë’s Privy Council. Ingalaurë was there, as were Indil and Elindis, though they were kept apart from one another. Ingalaurë was forced to stay at Ingoldo’s side with Tinwetariel standing beside him, looking smug. Surprisingly, to Ingalaurë’s mind, Ingoldo did not sit on the High King’s throne, but stood before it to address the audience.

"It is with great sorrow that I must announce that our beloved High King, Ingwë, has decided not to return to Vanyamar," Ingoldo exclaimed, looking suitably sad. He raised his hands to still the sudden murmurs of disbelief. "My brother has decided to remain at the side of Lord Manwë. He no longer desires to rule over us. Therefore he has sent this writ of abdication which I will have read."

He handed the parchment to Ingwë’s chamberlain, Sorontor, who took it with obvious distaste, but nonetheless, read it aloud. Ingalaurë watched the expressions of those nearest to him as the writ was read. Most had expressions of stunned disbelief, a few shook their heads and gave Ingoldo dark looks. He saw the members of the Privy Council standing together, though Tamurilon was not among them and that worried him. Lady Amáriel’s face was marred by a faint sneer and Lord Lassezel looked unimpressed. When the chamberlain was done, he handed the parchment back to Ingoldo, his feelings of hatred towards him evident in his expression.

Ingoldo ignored the looks of hatred and disgust on the faces of many of the nobles and courtiers as he addressed the audience again. "While I regret that my royal brother has done this, I think we should honor his wishes and install Prince Ingalaurë as our new Ingaran."

"With you pulling all the strings, no doubt," Nolondur called out from where he stood with the other members of the Privy Council.

"How do we know that writ is even authentic?" Lassezel asked almost at the same time. "And where is Lord Tamurilon? I know for a fact that he and Princess Indil left the city together to examine the state of our farms. Now Indil has returned, but not Tam. Where is he, Ingoldo? What have you done with him?"

"What makes you think I have done anything to him?" Ingoldo asked, and Ingalaurë, standing next to him, could feel the anger rising in him. He wondered if he dared to speak out, but the warning to behave himself or else that Ingoldo had given him just before they entered the throne room stayed him. He wished he were braver. Ingwion no doubt would have ignored Ingoldo’s threats and would have defied him before all. Ingalaurë did not think he had such strength and he feared for what might happen to his ammë and Indil, so he remained silent as he listened to the exchange between Ingoldo and Lassezel.

"Because," the noble retorted with a sneer, "Lord Tamurilon was seen by many attempting to leave the city with Her Majesty and Prince Ingalaurë and Princess Indil. You have these three, so what did you do to Lord Tamurilon?"

"What matters about Lord Tamurilon?" someone called out from amongst the guildmasters and merchants attending the audience. "King Ingwë has deserted us. I care not for having this princeling take the throne. Let Ingoldo rule us, for is he not the eldest of the royal House?"

Shouts of agreement with the ellon’s words rang through the chamber. Ingalaurë felt himself reddening at the slur directed at him and wished he could just find a place to hide. Princeling! Is that how the Vanyar saw him? Was he so worthless in their eyes? Would they speak so of Ingwion?

Ingoldo raised his hands and called out for silence. It was some time coming but eventually the chamber quieted. He gave them all a cool stare and held the writ of abdication up for all to see. "This is my royal brother’s will: that the crown of the Vanyaran be given unto his beloved son, Prince Ingalaurë."

"What of Prince Ingwion?" An elleth called out. "Where is he?"

"I do not know where my nephew is," Ingoldo declared, and Ingalaurë could sense the satisfaction in his uncle’s voice at being able to speak the truth. "I only know that both he and my brother are not here where they belong, ruling us in these dark times. Therefore, it behooves us to assure that there is an orderly transference of power. King Ingwë’s writ of abdication clearly names Prince Ingalaurë as his heir. Apparently, and for reasons of his own, Prince Ingwion has elected not to return to the city and may even be with Ingwë in Valmar."

"And what does Prince Ingalaurë have to say to all this?" Nolondur asked, giving Ingalaurë a considering look.

Ingalaurë licked his lips, his throat gone suddenly dry. Here was his chance. Here was where he proved his mettle and denounced Ingoldo and his false writ. He started to open his mouth, ready to speak out when he caught his ammë’s eyes. She gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head, as if she knew what he was planning. And with that, he felt his resolve fading, biting back a sob of frustration, defeat and despair that nothing was going to come out right smothering his fëa. He felt a slight nudge from Ingoldo and squared his shoulders, knowing that he was damning himself before the eyes of his people, but knowing that he had no choice.

He cleared his throat, his eyes locked with those of his ammë as he spoke. "I will abide by my atar’s wishes."

His ammë gave him a slight nod and the look of approval in her eyes made it all right and he felt the muscles in his stomach loosening a little. There were exclamations of surprise, dismay and even disgust, but no one raised any further objections. Ingoldo motioned for the chamberlain to bring forth the state crown, which he did with some reluctance. Ingoldo took it and held it up for all to see.

"By rights, Ingwë should be here to pass the crown to his heir," he exclaimed, "but as he is not, I will ask Queen Elindis to do the honors." Ingoldo’s expression could only be described as triumphant.

Ingalaurë saw his ammë start at the mention of her name. This was clearly unexpected and murmurs rose among the people. He watched Elindis give Ingoldo a haughty look as she stepped forward and took the crown from him. Ingoldo bowed and stepped aside so that Elindis was facing her son. Ingalaurë gave her a helpless look and she returned it with a sympathetic smile.

"With this crown," she intoned, "take upon yourself the burden of kingship, my son."

She held the crown out and Ingalaurë reluctantly took it. He had been instructed earlier by Ingoldo as to what to do and say. He started to place the crown on his head, no longer attempting to keep the tears from flowing: tears of sorrow and defeat. But then, at the very last minute, he lowered his arms and shook his head.

"I will not take the crown," he said. He felt Ingoldo stiffen and murmurs rose among the spectators. Elindis gave him a fearful look and started to shake her head, clearly asking him not to do this, but he found he could not stop. "I will not take the crown," he repeated again more loudly. He turned to face Ingoldo, steeling himself for the wrath that was sure to come."I will not rule as King, but as Steward to the throne only. If you want the crown so badly, Uncle, you may have it instead."

He thrust the crown at Ingoldo, who was forced to grab it as Ingalaurë released his hold on it. Taking Elindis’ arm, he led her down the center aisle and was glad when Indil hastily joined them, walking on his other side. The courtiers moved aside and gave them their obeisance, their expressions ranging from disbelief to approval. He wanted to look back to see what Ingoldo was doing but he did not dare. He felt his ammë tightening her hold on him as they exited the throne room and wondered how his uncle planned to punish him for his defiance.

****

Seldo: Boy.

Vanyaran: King of the Vanyar.