64: Preparations Advancing

Ingwion and Findaráto returned to Tirion a week later. It took them some time to retrieve their horses, for they had ranged further afield than anticipated. Then Findaráto decided to travel in a circuitous route south of the granaries across a wilderness of small copses and open fields. By the time they reached the road leading to the Southern Fiefdoms they were both looking a bit worse for wear. Ingwion’s cloak was ripped where it got snagged by an errant tree limb while Findaráto sported a bump on the head and a slightly sprained ankle from tripping over a root while chasing down some deer that they had encountered unexpectedly.

"A fine hunter you are," Ingwion had said with an amused snort when he finally caught up with his cousin who had given chase on foot, leaving Ingwion to deal with their horses.

Findaráto had snarled a few choice words that only set Ingwion laughing. Needless to say the deer got away and they were forced to content themselves with a scrawny rabbit or two for their meal.

They reached Tirion at a time when the city was bustling. The ever present stars made it difficult to measure time as they had done in the past but the Noldor were nothing if not inventive. While the two had been away, Fëanáro’s water clock had been moved into the Mindon Eldaliéva and a special bell had been forged and set up in its own open tower next to the Mindon. At every hour someone came and rang the bell and by this method all of Tirion gauged the time. By the amount of activity that they saw as the two cousins made their way towards the palace, it would appear that in Tirion at least it was mid-day. Even as they came abreast of the palace gardens on the southern slopes they heard a bell ring out. Ingwion found himself counting.

"Six peals," he said.

"Almost halfway to what would have been Second Mingling," Findaráto said with a nod. "It’s going to take some getting used to."

Ingwion nodded and then they were coming into one of the minor courtyards leading to the royal stables and were too busy divesting themselves of their gear and turning their steeds over to grooms for him to comment. None of Findaráto’s family were there to greet them and in truth they were not expecting it. Findaráto led the way into the palace and they made their way to his suite without encountering anyone save for servants who ran to do their prince’s bidding, for he had ordered hot baths and food for them both.

"I should probably go to my own suite and change," Ingwion said but Findaráto shook his head.

"Have someone go and bring you fresh clothes," he suggested. "I do not like the feeling I have and I would prefer you stay close to me."

"What do you mean?" Ingwion demanded.

"I don’t know for sure," Findaráto admitted with a shrug, "but something doesn’t feel right. The servants are... I don’t know. Let’s just go to my rooms and sort it out later."

Ingwion gave his cousin a considering look and then nodded. He called to one of the servants and gave the ellon instructions. The servant did not look pleased to be sent on the errand but a sharp word from Findaráto sent him scurrying to obey, though his expression was still disdainful.

"You’re correct, Cousin," Ingwion said in a whisper. "Something is not right."

Inside Findaráto’s suite servants were busy preparing the baths and setting out clean clothes for their master. None of them would look at the two princes or engage in any conversation, even when Findaráto teased them a bit about being closed-mouth. Finally, he simply dismissed them, much to their obvious relief, leaving the two cousins to fend for themselves, which suited them fine. The surly servant arrived just then with the outfit Ingwion had asked him to bring and left as quickly as he could.

"What’s up with all of them?" Ingwion asked as he began divesting himself of his over-ripe clothes and stepping into the lavender-scented bath, reveling in the hot water.

"I have no idea," Findaráto said as he joined him, giving a sigh of relief as the heat did its work of relaxing sore and tired muscles. "The whole atmosphere of this place is... dark and I don’t mean because there is no longer any light."

"I know what you mean," Ingwion said. "I felt it too, or rather I only noticed it when you mentioned it. I guess I was feeling too weary and worrying about what might be happening in Vanyamar to notice right away."

"You should not stay, then," Findaráto said as he reached for a sponge and some scented soap. "You should leave as soon as decency allows."

"I did promise Atar that I would stay long enough to see what is happening here," Ingwion stated as he grabbed a brush. "I would like to give him as full a report as possible. Do you think your people have had second thoughts about following Fëanáro?"

"I don’t think so," Findaráto said with a scowl. "Did you not notice all the forges that have cropped up since we left? They were once hidden from sight, but now they are out in the open and I could see that swords and spears were being crafted."

Ingwion gave him a scowl. "I confess I was not paying much attention. All I could think about was getting into a hot bath and clean clothes again."

Findaráto smiled. "You Vanyar are such lovers of comfort," he said jokingly, "and so spoiled." Ingwion stuck his tongue out and splashed his cousin who retaliated in kind. They both started laughing as they played with the water, getting the tiles wet before climbing out and drying themselves off and donning their clothes.

While they were bathing, servants had come and gone, leaving plates of food behind. For a while the two concentrated on the hot meal, savoring every bite and it was only when the last drop of gravy had been sopped up that they resumed their previous conversation.

"So you think that the Noldor, or at least the vast majority of them, have decided to follow Fëanáro," Ingwion said as he sat back in his chair and sipped on some wine.

"It appears that way from what I saw as we made our way through the city," Findaráto replied, sighing a bit. "I just hope that no one in the family has decided to join them."

"Do you think it possible?" Ingwion asked. "I suppose Findecáno will go regardless because of his love for Nelyafinwë. Those two have been otornor almost since the day they were born, it seems, but I cannot imagine your parents allowing Artanis to go."

"Neither can I," Findaráto said. "And you are right about Fin and Nelyo. They are closer to one another than they are to their own brothers. I’ve always envied them their relationship. I think they would gladly die for one another and never count the cost. They are true heart-brothers and I wish I had someone like that in my own life."

"So do I," Ingwion said with a sad smile.

Findaráto gave him a sympathetic look, then drained his goblet, setting it on the table even as he stood up. "Let’s go find my atar and find out what’s been happening since we left. I’m really surprised that no one has come to welcome us home."

Ingwion drained his own cup and followed his cousin from the room. They did not go far, merely around the corner to another suite which belonged to Findaráto’s parents. Findaráto rapped on the door twice and then opened it, stepping in with Ingwion following. The sitting room was empty. Findaráto called out but no one came from the bedroom or any of the other rooms adjoining the sitting room. He gave Ingwion a puzzled look and a shrug.

"Maybe they’re visiting Uncle Ñolofinwë," he said but his tone was uncertain.

"Only one way to find out, isn’t there?" Ingwion said.

They left the suite and made their way down the hall to another door on their left. Findaráto hesitated for a moment before knocking, but he did not open the door immediately. They heard someone on the other side call out for them to enter and Findaráto’s expression was one of relief as he opened the door. Inside they found both Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë with their wives and children huddled around a large table that had been brought into the sitting room while they had been away. Ingwion suspected that it had once been in the family dining room and wondered why it had been moved here.

Everyone at the table looked at them in surprise for a moment. Findaráto gave them a sardonic look. "So this is where you’ve been hiding."

"When did you get back?" Arafinwë demanded as he rose and went to give his first-born and his cousin hugs in greeting.

"About an hour or so ago," Findaráto answered. "What’s going on? Why do the servants look frightened? Why is there such a heavy sense of doom in the air?"

Arafinwë sighed and Ingwion noticed a sense of sadness and tiredness in his eyes. "There have been some... developments while you were away," Arafinwë said as he led them back to the table. Chairs were found and room was made for them. Ingwion found himself sitting between Findaráto on his right and Eärwen on his left.

"How was the hunting?" Artanis suddenly asked them, her expression bland, but Ingwion sensed that she knew full well that they had not gone hunting.

Findaráto gave her a shrug. "Poor. The forest is dark and the animals are spooked. We saw little in the way of game, just enough to keep us alive."

"I’m surprised then that you did not return earlier," Ñolofinwë said from the other end of the table.

"You can blame Ingwion for that," Findaráto said with a sly grin. "He kept insisting that our luck would turn. The only thing that turned was my ankle when I tripped over a tree root that I didn’t see because it was so blasted dark under the trees."

There was a moment of stunned silence and then someone started laughing and soon they all were. "Well, you’ll have to tell us about it later," Eärwen said when they were calmer. "I think right now it’s best to bring you up to date as to what has happened here."

"And what exactly is that?" Findaráto asked.

For a moment or two no one spoke and then Ñolofinwë sighed. "Two days after you and Ingwion left, I received a delegation of Elves from the city who claimed to represent the vast majority of the population. They insisted that all of them had remained behind in Tirion when Fëanáro and your anatar went into exile. They were not sanguine about placing themselves under my half-brother’s banner and wished for me to lead them."

Ingwion could feel Findaráto’s shock. The ellon stared at his uncle in disbelief, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Ingwion felt surprised as well. "But I thought you had no intention of following Fëanáro," Findaráto exclaimed.

"Nor did I," his uncle responded with a scowl. "But... these people claimed they did not wish Fëanáro as their king, though they did want to leave Tirion." He gave a snort of disgust. "A case of wanting the best of both worlds I think."

"You told them no, I imagine," Ingwion said, giving Ñolofinwë a shrewd look.

"Yes, I did... at first." Ñolofinwë gave Ingwion and Findaráto an embarrassed look and glanced at his son, Findecáno, sitting beside him. "I have since changed my mind."

"But... but why?" Findaráto cried, glancing around the table at the faces of his family, trying to understand what was happening.

Ingwion felt uncomfortable. This was clearly a family matter having nothing to do with him. He started to rise. "Perhaps I should...."

Findaráto jerked him down. "No!" he nearly shouted, his face suffused with anger. "Stay here. You need to hear this so you can give a true and faithful report to the High King about the follies of the Noldor." He gave everyone a scathing glance and Ingwion noticed that few there could meet his cousin’s gaze. "Go on, Uncle," Findaráto commanded. "Explain this folly to us."

Ñolofinwë’s own expression turned angry. "How darest thou judge that which thou dost not understand, hina!"

Findaráto flinched, as much at his uncle’s tone as at being called ‘child’ in such a manner. He was no elfling of ten! And the switch to formal address didn’t soothe his feelings either. He glared at his uncle, his cheeks red with shame at the insult and anger at the reprimand.

Ñolofinwë was angry as well, angry and affronted by his nephew’s lecturing and condescending manner. Ingwion couldn’t blame him but he had the feeling the second son of Finwë was using his anger as a shield. Whatever decision he had made he was not truly happy with it but could not honorably get out of it and his anger obviously masked his frustration and self-reproach.

Findaráto, however, did not apologize. Instead, he gave his elder cousin, Findecáno, a shrewd look. "I suppose this is your doing, isn’t it?" He shook his head in disgust while Findecáno bristled but Findaráto gave him no time to respond, turning his attention to his own atar. "So that means you will be the next king or at least regent while mine uncles are haring off to Endórë?"

Arafinwë shook his head. "I have decided to go with them, loath though I am to leave."

Now Findaráto’s expression was one of dismay and disbelief and Ingwion felt the blood drain from his own face as he stared in shock at Arafinwë.

"But... why?" Findaráto demanded. "And if you leave, who then takes the throne?" He glanced around the table but no one would look at him.

It was Ñolofinwë who finally answered. "Try to understand, Finda," he said. "I no more wish to leave Tirion than does your atar, but neither will I leave these people — my people — to the rash counsels of our brother. I no more believe now than I did before that Fëanáro’s quest has any hope of success. He leads all to their deaths, but if I am there perhaps I can keep our people from suffering too much from his excesses."

"But why do you feel you need to go with him, Atar?" Findaráto demanded of Arafinwë.

"For the same reasons," he answered. "Our households and the greater part of the dwellers of Tirion refuse to renounce Ñolofinwë in favor of Fëanáro. As far as they are concerned, Ñolofinwë is our king."

"Also, I cannot ignore the oath I gave him before the very thrones of the Valar," Ñolofinwë added. "I meant what I said: whither Fëanáro leads I will follow."

Findaráto scowled. "As rash an oath as there ever was, and no good will come of it." He paused and gave them all a considering look. "You still have not answered my question as to who will govern those who remain behind, for it is my thought that not all will accompany you, not for fear of whatever peril may lie before them, but for the love they bear for the Valar, and Lord Aulë not the least, as well as the love they have for Tirion itself."

"In that you are correct, yonya," Arafinwë answered. "By my reckoning, I think no more than a tithe will remain behind."

"That few!" Ingwion exclaimed. "Then Tirion might as well be deserted and Aman will be the poorer for your going."

"And who has been chosen to remain behind to govern?" Findaráto asked again.

There was an uneasy silence and then Arafinwë spoke. "It was thought that perhaps you..."

He got no further, for Findaráto leapt to his feet, his face red with anger. "And I suppose everyone else is going with you, even the ellith, while I’m supposed to stay back like a coward?" He glanced at Artanis who gave him a disdainful sniff.

"No one is accusing you of cowardice, Finda," Eärwen stated.

"You weren’t here when we made the decision," Angaráto said.

"Ah.... so that’s it," Findaráto retorted with a sneer of contempt for them all. "I am just a convenient excuse so the rest of you can do as you damn please!"

"Now yonya...." Arafinwë started to say but Findaráto cut him off with a snarled oath, pushing his chair back and heading for the door.

Before he reached it, though, he stopped and turned to face them. "I am coming with you," he said quietly yet firmly.

"What!?" Arafinwë exclaimed.

"I said that I am coming with you," his son repeated in the same quiet tone. "I will not be left behind."

"But why?" his brother Aicanáro demanded. "You’re the one who has been counseling us all to remain behind, claiming it folly to leave."

"And folly it is, but long have I wished to leave Aman for — what did Uncle call it? — the wide and magic world. I have wished this ever since I heard of these Apanónar whom the Valar claim are destined to come and take our inheritance from us. But I also knew my place was here, my duty bound me to Aman, to Lord Aulë as his pupil and to Tirion as a member of the royal household. As much as I desired to leave, I knew that I could not."

"And now?" Ñolofinwë asked.

"And now, it looks as if the entire family is going and I refuse to be left behind. Let those who will stay choose from among themselves one who will lead them."

"Not all of us are going," Eärwen said quietly, casting a meaningful glance at her husband.

"What do you mean?" Findaráto asked.

"Your ammë has decided to stay," Arafinwë answered, his expression unreadable, "as will your Aunt Anairë and probably Eldalótë, though Elenwë insists on going."

Findaráto stared at them all for the longest moment, his attention mostly on his parents. Eärwen’s expression was neutral, giving nothing away; Arafinwë refused to look at anyone. "Then it seems the only sane ones in this room are Ammë and my aunt and sister-in-law," he said, his tone emotionless, "for certainly the rest of us have taken leave of our senses. I fear Uncle Fëanáro’s madness has tainted us all."

All this while, Ingwion had sat in stunned silence, listening to the arguments back and forth, disbelieving what he was hearing, a sense of dismay and doom creeping over him with every word spoken. It mattered not to him who among the Noldor were mad enough to follow Fëanáro into folly, but when Findaráto announced that he, too, would leave, his heart nearly stopped. The thought of his beloved cousin, the one he felt the closest to, leaving him, nay, deserting him, it could not be borne! "You are serious, aren’t you?" he asked Findaráto. "You truly mean to leave. Even after all we’ve...."

He couldn’t finish. Findaráto’s expression told him all he needed to know. His throat tightened and his innards twisted and he felt as if his very heart would burst from pain and sorrow and a sense of betrayal. "You’re all insane!" he shouted, leaping from his chair, glaring at them. "You’re all insane and if you continue in this folly then you will all die and it’s no more than you deserve!"

He headed for the door, pushing Findaráto aside in his anger when the ellon tried to stop him, pleading with him to stay. He did not care. He could not stay there listening to their madness. When Arafinwë had suggested that Findaráto stay behind and rule, he had felt some semblance of cheer that at least his favorite cousin would be there in these sad and dark times, but now! It was not to be borne. He could not accept the thought of losing Findaráto forever. He blindly made his way to his suite, tears streaming down his face. When he arrived, he slammed the door and barred it, not wishing anyone to importune him, especially Findaráto. Standing with his back to the door he stared into the dark room, not yet ready to hunt for a candle. He wished his atar were there rather than in Vanyamar. He wished he were in Vanyamar instead of here. He wished....

His heart was racing, his stomach roiling, his hands clenched into fists and his breathing was coming in gasps as anger and fear and frustration all came to him at once and the room became too small and everything started closing in on him.

Then he threw back his head and screamed.

****

Ingwë’s party reached Eldamas and stopped at the royal townhouse to rest. The mood of the town was uneasy and Ingwë did not want Indis or Amarië exposed to it, so after a suitable time, he ordered them back on the road, but he did not join them.

"I need to make a report to the Valar first," Ingwë explained to his sister. "They need to know what has happened."

"And what makes you think that they do not?" Indis insisted. She gestured to Erunáro and Manveru. "I’m sure these Maiar...."

"No doubt, and I agree," Ingwë retorted harshly, cutting Indis off, "but they will still want to hear my story. Go you on to Vanyamar, you and Amarië, and I will be there in another day or two."

Indis pursed her lips. "I like it not," she exclaimed. "The Valar can take care of themselves, Brother. Your people need you more than they."

"Nevertheless," Ingwë said firmly, "I will stay and speak with Lord Manwë before returning to Vanyamar. When you see Elindis, tell her I am coming."

"Very well, Brother," Indis said with a sigh. "Do not tarry, for I deem the Vanyar are no less affected by the loss of light than everyone in Tirion and they will need your strong guiding hand showing them the way out of this present darkness."

"Only the Valar can do that," Ingwë said, then he turned to the two Maiar standing to one side. "Please see them safely to Vanyamar. I will come as soon as I may."

"It will be as you say, Ingwë of the Vanyar," Manveru replied.

When the cavalcade finally faded into the darkness, Ingwë sighed to himself and then made his slow way back into Valmar, stopping at Lord Manwë’s mansion, ascertaining that the Valar were still at the Máhanaxar in counsel. He thanked the Maia and continued down the Landamallë illuminated by lanterns hanging from the boughs of the malinorni trees that lined the avenue, wishing he could have simply ignored his duty to the Valar and gone home with Indis and Amarië.

****

Note: Ñolofinwë addressing his nephew with hina ‘O child’ would be considered insulting to the ellon because the vocative form was reserved for young children only. Findaráto would have expected the more endearing possessive form, hinya ‘my child’, which would not have had the sense of insult that the vocative form would have in this instance.