36: Fateful Decisions

"By rights, I should be acting as your ambassador to Tirion," Ingoldo exclaimed angrily to Ingwë as he and his brother, along with Tinwetariel and Elindis, were eating dinner later that same evening. It was just the four of them as their children were dining elsewhere with friends. Ingwë had decided to share his decision about sending one of his sons to Tirion as his ambassador.

Ingwë frowned at his brother as he broke apart some bread before dipping it into his soup. He stole a glance at Elindis sitting across from him. She gave him a gentle smile of support. "I am not sure I follow you," he finally said. "You resigned from my Privy Council stating that you wished to pursue other interests. I took that as meaning that you were not interested in having any more to do with government work."

"I am still a member of this family," Ingoldo insisted. "You could at least have consulted with me first."

"You were unavailable, as I recall," Ingwë said somewhat coldly. "In fact, you were not even in the city. Was I suppose to drop everything and go riding off in search of you to discuss a matter that frankly no longer concerns you?"

"Still...."

"And do you and Tinwetariel truly wish to leave Vanyamar and reside in Tirion for the next nine or so years?"

"We used to live in Tirion, don’t forget," Tinwetariel replied for her husband. "It’s not as if we would be living in... in Alqualondë." She spoke as if describing some exotic and primitive place where no sane Elf would go.

"Regardless," Ingwë retorted, "you both have been very reluctant to do much of anything except fritter away the hours in gossip or in the hunt." His brother and sister-in-law glared at him but did not contradict him. "Besides," he added, "I think it is high time my children take on more responsibilities. I plan on asking Indil to take a more active role in helping as well."

Both Ingoldo and Tinwetariel snorted. "That I would like to see," Ingoldo said with a sneer. "Your daughter is almost as useless as my son in that regard."

The temperature in the room dropped considerably as both Ingwë and Elindis stared at Ingoldo — Elindis in disbelief, Ingwë in rising fury. "Neither my daughter nor your son are useless, Ingoldo," he said between clenched teeth. "They are both a credit to our family, which is more than I can say for others."

The silence that followed was nearly absolute. After a moment, and refusing to apologize, Ingoldo stood. "I think we will dine elsewhere," he said, giving his wife a significant stare. Tinwetariel sighed but rose as well and the two walked out, leaving Ingwë and Elindis staring at one another in disbelief.

"He’s becoming impossible," Elindis finally said. "Are you sure he’s your brother?"

Ingwë snorted and returned to his soup, though in truth he had little appetite now. "I have ceased to understand Ingoldo or what drives him. He gives up the one power base he had for no real reason that I could ever fathom and now he’s insisting that the ambassador’s position is his by right."

"He and Tinwetariel have been thorns in your side ever since we left Cuiviénen," Elindis said with a sigh. "Sometimes I wish they had turned back or had refused to join in the Migration."

"I know," Ingwë said. "Sometimes I wish the same, but the sad reality is, they did not and we have to deal with them. I almost wish Ingoldo would do something rash so I can exile him somewhere, or have the Valar do it for me."

Elindis gave her husband a brief smile. "You mean, send him to Formenos to tend sheep? Now that would be something, wouldn’t it?"

Ingwë chuckled, his good humor restored. "An idle fancy, I admit, but there are times when the idea appeals to me."

"Well, perhaps someday you will get your wish," Elindis said, giving him a coy look and Ingwë burst out laughing.

****

"So what will you do?" Intarion asked the twins as they sat in the Crystal Cup, a popular tavern not far from the palace on a street known as Salma Mallë because of the number of shops where lyres and lutes and other musical instruments were made and sold. Indil was with them along with Tamurilon and Amarië. Ingwion had told them about their atar’s plan.

"We haven’t decided yet," Ingwion replied. "Atto has given us until Valanya to give him our answer. Whoever goes will be going with you, it seems."

Intarion raised an eyebrow at that. "Rather precipitous and with little time to pack," he commented. "Does Ñolofinwë know you’re coming?" He gave them a sly grin and everyone chuckled.

"I doubt it," Ingalaurë replied with his own grin. "I get the feeling that Atto made this decision very recently and there’s been no time to send a message to Ñolofinwë. He’s going to be very surprised when one of us shows up on his doorstep with bags in hand asking for a room."

They burst out laughing at the image the ellon’s words evoked.

"At any rate," Ingwion said once they had calmed down, "with one of us gone, I think Atto is going to ask Indil to be more active in helping out." He gave his sister a significant look.

Indil pouted. "There goes all my free time," she muttered and the others just snorted. Then her expression lightened. "In truth, I think you are correct, Brother, and I will do what I can. Actually, I have been helping Ammë with much of her own duties, as well you know."

Everyone nodded. "And I think Ammë appreciates it," Ingalaurë stated. "I overheard her telling Atto that she finds your common sense approach to problem-solving to be a pleasant change from the convoluted methods of others."

Indil beamed. "Did she really say that?"

Ingalaurë nodded. "She sounded very pleased when she did and Atto wondered from whom you might have gotten your common sense because no one else in the family ever seemed to have any."

There was a pause as Ingalaurë gave them all an innocent look and then they broke out in laughter again, Ingwion playfully swatting his brother, who ducked, all the while grinning.

"He never said that," Ingwion said. "You made that up."

"No, I didn’t," Ingalaurë insisted. "Well... maybe I did, but not what Ammë said about Indil. That was true enough."

"Well, thank you for telling me, Ingil," Indil said with sincerity. "I appreciate it."

"You are most welcome, Sister," Ingalaurë said with a warm smile for her.

"Well, getting back to who will go to Tirion," Intarion said then, "how will you decide? As long as I’ve known you two, you’ve never been separated from each other more than a few days. Will you be able to handle it?"

"Honestly, Intarion, we’re not elflings," Ingwion protested. "I am sure we will do just fine."

"Still, it is not an easy decision to make," Amarië interjected. "I am not sure I would want to leave Vanyamar for such a long time, myself."

"Why don’t you arm wrestle for the position?" Tamurilon suggested with a mischievous smile. "Loser goes to Tirion."

"Are you serious?" Ingwion asked, laughing.

Tamurilon shrugged. "I can think of worse ways of deciding an issue."

The twins gave them identical shakes of their heads. "I think we’ll find some other way to make the decision."

"I’m not sure there’s really anything to think about," Ingalaurë said somewhat diffidently, not looking at his twin. "You’ve been saying how much you hate sitting on the Privy Council. Do you really want to stay and endure it for the next nine years?"

"No, not really," Ingwion admitted, "but my likes or dislikes should have nothing to do with the decision. What is best for our people is the only criterion that matters here. If staying here is what is best, then stay here I will and I will do my utmost to fulfill my obligations as well as I can, no less than you."

"Still, Ingil has a point," Indil commented. "Doing something you hate for so long will not be a good thing for anyone. Eventually I think you would begin to resent your situation and then what?"

"Indil is correct," Amarië chimed in. "I think in this instance you should both do what your heart tells you, not what you think you should be doing. The people can take care of themselves."

"All things being equal," Intarion added with all seriousness, "which would you rather do, Ingwi?"

Ingwion sighed. "What I told Ingil is true. I really do hate sitting on the Privy Council. That first year dragged on forever and now I face the possibility of having to sit on the Council for the next nine years or longer. I don’t think I could do that and remain sane."

"And you, Ingil?" Intarion asked.

Ingalaurë hesitated for a second before answering. "I like the idea of being Atar’s ambassador to the court of Tirion, yet, I also enjoyed my time on the Privy Council. I would have no objections to staying if Ingwi truly hates the thought of doing so."

"Then I don’t see why you need to discuss it," Intarion said. "Ingwi should go to Tirion while Ingil remains on the Council. I think that is an equable arrangement, one that I think you both can live with. Or am I mistaken?"

"No," Ingwion averred with a shake of his head. "You are not." He gave his twin a significant look. "Are you fine with this, Brother?" he asked. "Do you wish to remain while I go?"

"It’s not that I wish to remain," Ingalaurë said slowly as if feeling out his words. "It’s that I think we would both be happier if I did stay here and help Atar out on the Council while you go to Tirion where you can help Atar in other ways, and I think being an ambassador will allow you to pursue your other interests as well."

Ingwion did not respond immediately, mulling over his twin’s words, weighing them for their sincerity. Finally, he nodded. "I think you are correct, Ingil. We will let Atar know our decision tomorrow at breakfast."

There were grins all around. "Well, now that that’s settled," Indil said, "let’s have a toast." She raised her wine goblet and the others followed suit. "Here’s to Ingwion and Ingalaurë, may they serve our people faithfully and well in whatever capacity they choose."

"To Ingwion and Ingalaurë, " Intarion, Tamurilon, and Amarië echoed while the twins looked on, giving one another shy looks.

****

"You are sure of this?" Ingwë asked his sons as they sat together for breakfast. He noticed Ingoldo glaring at them from across the room, but ignored him.

The twins nodded. "We talked it over with Indil, Intarion, Tam and Amarië and we realized that my going to Tirion would be best while Ingil stays here and helps you with the Council," Ingwion said.

Ingwë stole a glance at his daughter and nephew sitting on the other side of Elindis. Both nodded. "Tam suggested they arm wrestle to see who gets to go to Tirion," Indil said, "but the rest of us thought that wouldn’t be a good idea."

Ingwë found himself smiling. "Indeed," was his only comment, then he turned back to his sons. "Then I accept your decision, yonyar. Indeed, I suspected that you would decide as you have but left it to you to do so or not. Truly, I have no real preference as to who should go and who should stay. I know that in either case you will both do your very best for our people."

"Thank you," both ellyn muttered, looking embarrassed at the praise.

"We will tell Lord Manwë when we go to Ilmarin on Valanya," Ingwë said.

"Why?" Ingalaurë asked. All three of Ingwë’s children and Intarion had confused looks on their faces.

Ingwë raised an eyebrow, as if the answer should be obvious. "It is only polite," he said quietly. "After all, are they not our neighbors and do not neighbors share their news with one another?"

The expressions on the younger Elves’ faces mutated from confusion to something more thoughtful as they continued to eat. Ingoldo continued to glare at them, but no one paid him any heed.

****

Lord Manwë gave Ingwion a steady look. "So, you will go to Tirion to act as your atar’s ambassador. A heavy responsibility, but one I think you will shoulder with your usual aplomb." Then he turned his attention to Ingalaurë, giving him a smile. "I am glad that you will be staying behind, hinya, for that means we will have more time to listen to your lovely poems. You show great promise as a bard. I think you might do well to apprentice yourself to Elemmírë for a time."

"Truly?" Ingalaurë exclaimed, grinning broadly. "She is the very best bard we have."

"I have taken the liberty of showing her one or two of my particular favorites of yours," Manwë said, "and it was she who suggested that you apprentice with her. Of course, your duty to your atar and your responsibilities on the Privy Council come first, but perhaps something can be arranged."

Ingwë gave the Elder King a bow. "Thank you, lord. It pleases me to know that someone like Lady Elemmírë recognizes Ingil’s talents."

"His way with words is quite sublime," Varda interjected. "It would be a pity not to develop that talent to its fullest."

Ingwë turned to Ingalaurë. "What say you, my son? Is this something you would like to do?"

Ingalaurë nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. It is something I’ve always dreamt of but never thought it would come true."

"Then it is settled," Manwë said with a smile. "We will have you meet with Elemmírë and make the appropriate arrangements. In the meantime, let us discuss your new role, Ingwion." He turned to the elder twin, his posture more sober and solemn. "A heavy responsibility, as I said, but one I know you can handle. Still, do you understand what the duties of an ambassador are?"

"I’m to be Atto’s spy," Ingwion replied with a nod.

Ingwë rolled his eyes. "You are not a spy!" he insisted.

"Well, I think it’s much more interesting to say that I’m the Ingaran’s spy than to say that I’m just your representative to the court of Tirion," Ingwion retorted.

There were amused chuckles from among the Valar, for they could see that the ellon was merely jesting. "Be that as it may," Manwë said, hiding a smile, "spying is not the most important role of an ambassador. The most important role is speaking for your atar when he cannot be there in person. That may prove problematic if you have one opinion about how things should go and he has another, yet, in the end, because you will be representing your atar, you will have to put aside your personal opinions. Whether you agree with your atar on any particular matter or not is immaterial; what is, is that you stand for your atar before all the Noldor. You are his voice more than you are his eyes or ears. The Noldor may not particularly care to hear what you have to say, but as Ingwë’s representative, you must be prepared to speak boldly and without hesitation, even if what you say proves unpopular."

Ingwion nodded, looking thoughtful. "I know," he replied. "I only hope that, as close kin to the Noldorin royal family, I do not encounter too many conflicts of interest."

"That is something none can predict," Manwë averred, "but regardless, in the end, all that is important for any to see is that you stand before them as the High King’s emissary. Your personal feelings cannot enter into it."

Ingwion gave the Elder King a bow. "I will keep your words in my heart, lord," he said solemnly.

"That is well," Manwë said and then he and the other Valar gave their blessings on both ellyn before the Elves departed for Vanyamar.

When Ingwë and his sons were gone, Manwë turned to Námo. "You were very quiet and your blessing was, shall we say, somewhat perfunctory and even distant."

Námo shook his head. "I am not sanguine about Ingwë’s decision to send one of his sons to Tirion," he answered.

"Have you seen something about which we should know?" Manwë asked.

"Nothing concrete," Námo replied, his expression somber, deciding not to mention what he had ‘seen’ when he had had his conversation with the twins in the conservatory. Some things, he instinctively knew, could not be spoken of to others however much he might desire to do so. His visions were not always easy to bear, yet somehow he always found the strength of will to do so. "It is why I have not spoken of it but I think Ingwion going to Tirion may be a mistake. It would be better if Ingalaurë were to go, or even Ingoldo."

"Indeed," Manwë said, raising an eyebrow. "Yet, it is their decision to make, not ours."

"Unfortunately," Námo retorted, looking troubled.

Vairë laid a solicitous hand on his arm, giving him a warm, caring look. "It’s young Ingil, isn’t it? You fear for him for some reason."

"Yes," Námo said. "I fear for them all."

"Why?" Manwë asked as gently as he could. Námo’s gift of foresight sometimes proved problematic for his fellow Valar, for it was not always easy to accept that what will be must be.

"I have seen further into Arda’s history than all others yet I have not seen all for much still lies in the freedom of Atar’s will. There is a darkness coming, yet what form it will take, I have not seen, but the Children are at the heart of it."

"You mean they will be the cause of this darkness?" Varda asked with a frown.

Námo shook his head. "No, but they will be affected by it more than we and I think some will not survive it."

There was silence among them for a time. Manwë cast a sympathetic look at Námo still standing there looking troubled, indeed, looking almost embarrassed. He recalled earlier times when they had been new-come to Eä. Námo’s sudden pronouncements had often been disturbing and his fellow Valar had, to some degree, distanced themselves from him, leaving him feeling lonely and unappreciated, feeling that he was somehow less than the others. It had been a mistake on their part, for it had left him open to Melkor’s attempts at seduction with near disastrous results. It had taken some of them time to accept and cherish their brother and his gifts. Manwë, however, had recognized Námo’s true worth from the very beginning, and had always encouraged him and had let him know that he was valued for himself as their brother in Atar’s Thought and for no other reason.

"When?" he asked.

"Soon," Námo replied shortly.

"But, we call all times soon, Brother," Oromë said with a quirk of his lips. "Could you be a little more specific?"

Námo raised an eyebrow at his closest friend among the Valar, and they could see a glint of mischief in his eyes in spite of the somberness of their conversation. "Sometime before the end of Arda," he replied.

"Ah," Oromë said with a look of satisfaction that they all knew was feigned, "that narrows it down a bit."

In spite of themselves, they could not help laughing and even Námo’s mien lightened a bit. Manwë then steered the conversation to less somber topics and the Valar put aside the future for the time being, knowing that all would be as Atar willed and in the end all would work out as it must.

****

Salma Mallë: Lyre Street.