Unexpected Nesting by Kaylee Arafinwiel

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An Unexpected Queen

Two princes of Eldamar take the Road of Doom into the demesne of Namo and Vaire - and meet with a surprising figure.

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Ingwion fled. He could see nothing through the silver mist, yet something kept him rushing forward, screaming. "Ingil! Ingil! Ingalaurë, do you hear me?"

 

He ran until he could run no more, colliding with something hard and collapsing to his knees. His head was spinning, and he felt nauseous.

 

"Ingwion, Ingwion, what art thou doing, child?"

 

He did not recognize the voice, but arms wrapped around him, a warm, maternal embrace. She was not his ammë, he knew, but he knew that voice from somewhere.

 

"Keep your eyes closed, child, and breathe deeply," she commanded, and Ingwion did. Soon the nauseous feeling passed, but his head still ached. He was drawn into her lap, and rocked gently, like an elfling.

 

Racing footsteps behind him made Ingwion moan with pain. "Make it stop," he mumbled.

 

"It is thine own fault, Ingwion," she chided him. "This is not thy proper sphere. What dost thou here? And thee, hina?"

 

"I am here for my cousin, Lady," came the answer, and Ingwion blanched.

 

Finrod!

 

"I am Lady Miriel," she clarified, and now both cousins were pale. Ingwion struggled to sit up, wanting to look upon the former Noldotári, but she clucked disapprovingly and shook her head.

 

"Slowly, child, slowly," she murmured. "Now thou mayest open thine eyes, Ingwion."

 

Ingwion opened his eyes slowly, and looked upon a house built of nessamelda wood, ringed with cypress and pomegranate trees. There was a workshop set up in each wing, and the dyeing of yarn was obviously going on in one. In the front garden, where a riot of pansies and forget-me-nots carpeted the ground, a chair was set up for Lady Miriel to sit at her loom.

 

It was the loom, built of sturdy oak, that Ingwion had collided with. He rubbed his head weakly.

 

"I am sorry, Lady," he said meekly. "I had no wish to intrude upon you, only to find my...my brother."

Míriel turned to regard Ingwion sternly. "Nay, Ingwion. Thy brother is in Mandos," she said quietly. "Thou canst not go to him. Even if thou hadst found him there, he wouldst not recognize thee."

 

Ingwion wept. "But he is my brother, Lady!"

 

"Ingalaurë is safe in Mandos," Míriel said quietly. "He is not ready to remember thee - or anyone else - as of yet. It is my Lord Námo's gift to him and to all the other souls under his care."

 

Finrod nodded. "Lady Míriel is correct, Cousin," he said quietly. "When Ingalaurë is Reborn, it will be at the proper time and not before. Lord Námo knows what is best for him, and he would be most displeased to find you here."

 

"As am I, Cousin."

 

The quiet words made Ingwion scramble to his feet, looking around at the fountain that played softly a few feet away. Standing in front of it, framed by the cypress and pomegranate trees behind her, was Elwing, Lady of Aewellond, grey eyes hard as she surveyed Ingwion sternly. He was suddenly put in mind of his ammë, Queen Elindis, and cringed.

"Cousin, I--" Ingwion faltered, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the two Maiar standing a little way away with the elflings, or whether the power of Elwing's voice alone kept him quiet.

 

"If your brother knew what you were doing, he would be very disappointed in you, Ingwion," Elwing said firmly, her tone brooking no dissent. "You do not belong here, seeking Death."

 

Ingwion swallowed hard. He stared at the young perelda - so young, he thought, to have such eyes, to have such a commanding presence. "You do realise," he said eventually, "I'm older than Nolofinwë."

 

Elwing's eyebrows arched slightly. "Well, atar and ammë told me age makes no difference if behaviour needs correcting."

 

Atar and ammë. She must mean Tuor and Itarillë, Ingwion realised, for her own parents had been dead long before they could tell her any such thing. "My atar and ammë would agree with them," he conceded, smiling reluctantly.

 

"Then let us hence from this place, for peaceful though it be, I like it not," Elwing said quietly, shivering., looking past Vaire's quiet courtyard to the peaceful, rolling hills beyond and knowing what lay there.

 

The peace of the grave, she thought.

 

The party farewelled Míriel, the former Noldotári, and she promised to give their greetings to her lady, though Ingwion seemed troubled by that idea. As Ingwion, Finrod, and Elwing rejoined Eönwë, Melian and the sleeping elflings in their carriers, they headed back up the road to the Númenya Tëa, where  Eärendil had been standing watch.

 

"Perhaps we should return to Lord Ulmo's mansion. I am sure Uncle Ingwë and Aunt Elindis are still there," Eärendil offered when they returned.

 

Ingwion winced, but nodded. He would have to explain his behaviour to his parents. Though of course he was far from being an elfling himself any longer, he had disrespected the Valar by intruding upon a private space where he was not welcome, and as High King and Queen of the Eldar he was sure they would have plenty to say about that.

 

Elwing lay a supportive hand upon his arm. "Peace, Cousin. What is the worst they can do?" she asked wryly.

 

"Put me on bread and water for the next three Ages of Arda?" Ingwion muttered.

 

Eärendil snorted. "I sincerely doubt they would do such a thing."

 

"Indeed not," Melian agreed as they walked back into Valmar, and headed for Lord Ulmo's demesne. She kissed his brow in blessing. "Fear not, Child of Iluvatar, neither your parents or my Masters are tyrants. Thou goest before those who love you without reservation, and while we may remain here, we go with thee here." She rested a hand on his heart. "Courage, Ingwion haryon Ingaran."

 

Ingwion took a breath and nodded, smiling gratefully at the former Queen of Doriath as he gently pushed aside the front gate, made of a single large pearl, and carefully made his way across the lake, taking one stepping-stone at a time. The giant sea turtle shells were slippery but not dangerously so, and so Ingwion entered the edifice of living rock and sea-glass alone.

 

Elwing knelt and gathered Elentariel into her arms, holding her small daughter almost possessively. "I hope they are not too hard on him."

 

"Fear not, daeriel," Melian said gently. "All will be well with Ingwion."