95: Ingalaurë Alone

It did not take long for Ingalaurë to learn the nature of his punishment for defying his uncle. Ingoldo wasted no time in getting the royal family away from the nobles and courtiers demanding to speak with Ingalaurë, claiming that the prince was not speaking to anyone at the moment. Ingalaurë would have preferred to have witnesses about, but Ingoldo’s guards were enough to herd them away from those who might have been allies.

Almost as soon as they were back in the private section of the palace, Ingoldo angrily ordered his guards to escort both Elindis and Indil to the queen’s apartments. Elindis had only time to give Ingalaurë a brief kiss and a whispered "Tye-melin" before she was taken away along with Indil who gave her brother a worried look. Ingalaurë tried to smile encouragingly to her but his own heart was in his throat, fearing what Ingoldo would do next. Ingoldo gave Tinwetariel a nod and she went with the other ladies, much to their displeasure.

When the ellith were out of earshot, Ingoldo turned to Ingalaurë and slapped him hard across the mouth, sending the ellon reeling. One of the remaining guards grabbed him to keep him from falling to the floor. Ingoldo glared at him.

"Don’t ever defy me again," he hissed. "I had this all worked out and you, you insolent pup, have ruin...."

"I’ve ruined nothing, Uncle," Ingalaurë retorted, wiping the blood from his lips. "I’ve merely changed the parameters of your power. You may continue to dictate all you want, but I will not mouth your orders as your puppet. I will act as Steward, ruling in Atar’s name until he returns, and he will return. I don’t care what that parchment says. Atar never signed it. You may have him hidden somewhere but I promise you, Ingoldo, Ingwion will find him or he will escape on his own. On that day, you had better look to yourself."

"You are in no position...."

"Nor are you," Ingalaurë said, not sure where this courage to defy his uncle was coming from. He knew he was in a precarious position. Ingoldo could threaten to harm the queen or Indil and Ingalaurë would have no choice but to obey. But, for the moment, he was going to act like the queen’s champion that his ammë named him whatever the consequences. He was pretty sure that Ingwion would not have caved in so readily to Ingoldo’s demands if he’d been here instead. He pointed down the hall in the direction of the throne room.

"That was a very public ceremony," he said. "All know that I rule only as Steward, as Regent to Atar, just as I did before with Ingwion. Do you seriously think that someone like Nolondur or Lindórië or even Lassezel would ever believe that my atar would abdicate? Do you think that they don’t know that all this is your doing? Súlimondil and one or two others of your friends may trust you, but I doubt any of the other nobles do. Your mistake Uncle is that you didn’t just take the throne yourself."

Ingoldo continued to glare at him and Ingalaurë steeled himself for another slap, or even a beating, but his uncle simply nodded to the guards. "Take his Highness back to his suite," he ordered.

Tulcaner nodded and gestured for Ingalaurë to move. He was tempted to refuse, but decided it wasn’t worth it. One battle at a time, and he still did not think he had won anything except trouble. Ingoldo did not like being thwarted, and Ingalaurë was sure he would suffer for it somehow. As Tulcaner ushered him into his suite, the guard gave him a sour look. "You play a dangerous game, child," he said. "Ingoldo will exact punishment and you will have gained nothing."

"Why do you follow him, Tulcaner?" Ingalaurë asked wearily as he slowly began to divest himself of the heavily embroidered robes of state, flinging them carelessly across the back of a chair. "You know he is in the wrong."

"He pays me well," came the answer, the ellon giving him a sardonic grin. "Remember what I said, Ingalaurë. You would do well not to defy your uncle again. Remember, your amillë and...."

Ingalaurë turned on the ellon, his eyes bright with rage, and such was the force of his anger that Tulcaner actually took a step back in surprise. "You tell my uncle from me that if he so much as looks cross-eyed at Ammë or Indil, I will kill him."

Tulcaner raised an eyebrow at that, but did not contradict him, merely giving him another sour look before leaving, locking the door. Then, and only then, did Ingalaurë allow himself to collapse to his knees, his head bent, tears falling from his eyes. "Oh, Atar, where are you?" he whispered. "Why aren’t you here to stop this? I don’t know what to do. Oh, Valar! Someone help me."

He wrapped his arms around himself and began rocking, weeping, wondering how it would all end.

****

His punishment, if that is what it was, was to be placed on bread and watered wine for the next several days. Ingalaurë barely registered the fact, for he was too lost in misery to care what was given him for sustenance. And besides, Ingoldo knew nothing of the secret stash of sweets and dried fruits and such that he and Ingwion always kept for themselves, so his meals weren’t quite as dull as Ingoldo thought, though he was careful not to be seen eating them by the guards or servants who brought him his meals.

During that time he saw nothing of Ingoldo, and wondered what tale he had spun to the court about his absence, wondering what had become of his ammë and Indil. He found that he missed his sister’s company. He spent the time wandering between his room and Ingwion’s, for no one had seen fit to bar the inner door leading to Ingwion’s suite; they only barred the outer door. Mostly, he just brooded, replaying in his mind the scene at court, wondering if he should have done as his uncle wanted and taken the crown. But in the end he knew he could not have done so. It would have been a betrayal of his atar. No. Whatever might come of what he did, he at least knew himself not to be a traitor to the High King and that gave him some comfort, though admittedly, not much. His main worry was what Ingoldo would do next and how he might be able to thwart him. That was a dangerous game, he knew, but he had decided that he would not meekly accept the role Ingoldo was determined to give him: a mere puppet for him to play with. His one fear, though, and it was a real one, was that Ingoldo would actually carry out any threats against Elindis or Indil he might make to show Ingalaurë that he was serious. The thought that he might be instrumental in bringing harm to his ammë, or anyone else for that matter, sickened him and he could feel his resolve weaken. Yet, he only had to remember the look of love and approval in his ammë’s eyes and his resolve became firmer. Ingoldo had to be stopped. How, he did not know, but he would do all that he could to frustrate his uncle’s plans. His one true hope was his brother. Ingwion was out there somewhere. His twin was even now searching for their atar, looking for allies. Perhaps he had even gone to the Valar. That thought heartened him and he schooled himself to patience. It would come out right in the end, he had to believe that. The Valar would not allow Ingoldo the victory, of that he was sure.

By his counting of the number of times servants came with his meals, Ingalaurë gauged that nearly a week had gone by since his very public defiance of Ingoldo before the court. In that time Ingoldo made no appearance and he could get nothing out of the guards or servants as to what was happening elsewhere. The guards ignored his entreaties, the servants refused to look at him, guilt or fear ruling them, he was never sure which.

By the fourth day of his incarceration, he was thoroughly sick of his own company, so he felt almost grateful when Ingoldo showed up shortly after his meal was brought to him. The older ellon looked somewhat frazzled to Ingalaurë’s eyes, his expression one of deep frustration and anger. Ingalaurë stood up slowly when his uncle walked in, giving him a wary look. Ingoldo glared at him.

"The Privy Council will convene in a few hours time," Ingoldo said without preamble, his tone carefully neutral as if he were discussing the number of wool bales being brought to the city.

"And what is the purpose of the meeting, Uncle, and what is my role?" Ingalaurë asked quietly, evincing some measure of meekness in his voice. He was secretly pleased to see Ingoldo give a start, as if the ellon had fully expected him to protest, or demand explanations. Ingalaurë, knowing his uncle, was not about to give him the satisfaction. Let him believe that four days on nothing but half-stale bread and a rather inferior wine had been enough to make him compliant.

"Several of Ingwë’s councillors have been demanding that you be given your freedom," Ingoldo replied.

"And they know that I am being kept here under guard and against my will?" Ingalaurë asked, somewhat puzzled. He was sure that Ingoldo would have spun some tale to appease the courtiers.

Ingoldo shrugged. "I told them that you were not a prisoner, but only in seclusion to contemplate how best to be Steward to the realm."

"They obviously did not believe you," Ingalaurë could not help saying, allowing a small measure of satisfaction to creep into his voice.

Ingoldo glared at him harder and he had to remind himself not to goad his uncle overmuch. He was still a prisoner and Ingoldo held all the power.

"Most of the Privy Council is demanding to speak with you," Ingoldo answered. "And in truth, there does need to be a meeting of the Council. With Ingwë gone...."

"Thanks to you," Ingalaurë muttered with a sneer.

Ingoldo’s expression became one of pure fury, and before Ingalaurë knew it, he was being pushed into a wall. "Don’t start with me, seldo," Ingoldo hissed.

"Or what?" Ingalaurë retorted and he wondered at his own temerity.

"Or this," Ingoldo replied and before Ingalaurë could do anything to avoid it, he felt his uncle slam a fist into his solar plexus and he gasped in pain as he crumpled to his knees.

The beating that followed was severe and Ingalaurë had never known such pain before, not even when, as an elfling, he had managed to break his right arm. He did his best not to yell out, not to give Ingoldo the satisfaction, but he could not help the involuntary whimper that escaped from his lips at one point when Ingoldo landed a particularly vicious blow. Through it all, though, Ingalaurë had the distinct feeling that his uncle was only going through the motions of beating him. There was no real anger driving him and all was done in silence save for Ingalaurë’s stifled screams. The beating was cold and calculated and he realized that Ingoldo was careful not to touch his face. There would be no visible evidence of this thrashing for any to see.

Eventually Ingoldo stopped and Ingalaurë lay there fighting nausea from the pain, hoping he would not shame himself further by being sick in front of his uncle. He could taste the bile in his throat and fought to keep it down.

"Get up," Ingoldo said tonelessly, stepping back from him.

Ingalaurë attempted to rise, clutching his stomach, fighting the dizziness that assailed him, collapsing to the floor as a wave of agony swept through him.

"Get up," Ingoldo demanded again, the hint of a threat lacing his voice.

Ingalaurë crawled a few paces to the settee and used it to lever himself up, sitting heavily, for he had not the strength to stand just then. Ingoldo seemed satisfied to leave him where he was and, in fact, pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.

"There will be a council meeting in a few hours," his uncle said in a calm voice as if he had not just finished beating his own nephew. "You will attend and you will assure the councillors that you are well and have taken a few days to meditate on your responsibilities as... as Ingwë’s steward." Ingoldo gave him a sour look and Ingalaurë felt a measure of satisfaction in spite of his pain, knowing that in that much he had thwarted his uncle’s plans.

"Are there any pressing matters that need to be addressed?" he asked in a reasonable tone. "Will there be anything the Council will ask me to act on?"

Ingoldo appeared to hesitate and then shrugged. "As far as I know, there is nothing pressing," he finally said. "If anyone does broach a particular subject you should just tell them that you will take it under advisement."

"And if it is an urgent matter that cannot wait?" Ingalaurë asked.

Ingoldo smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant smile. "I will decide what is and what is not urgent, seldo. Remember that."

Ingalaurë nodded, not surprised at his uncle’s response, yet wondering how he could conduct the Council meeting to his advantage without inciting Ingoldo’s rage. Well, he had a few hours to think on it. He slowly stood up and Ingoldo joined him, giving him a wary look.

"If you will excuse me, Uncle, I would like to bathe before the meeting," the ellon said. He did not add that he hoped the hot water would relieve some of the pain he was still feeling, but he suspected that Ingoldo understood what he meant. At any rate, his uncle gave him a sardonic smile.

"Then I will leave you to your bath," he said. "I will send someone to give you a hand," he added. "I’m sure you will need some assistance in getting dressed."

Ingalaurë just nodded, afraid to say anything and only when Ingoldo left, locking the door behind him, did he collapse back onto the settee and allowed himself the tears he had ruthlessly refused to shed earlier. Only when the door opened to admit one of the servants did he force the tears away, following the ellon into the bathing chamber and letting him help with divesting himself of his clothes. He tried not to grimace but he knew he was not always successful. The servant made a point of not looking at him, especially the purple-green bruises that were beginning to form all over his torso. Ingalaurë wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not as he slipped into the bath.

The hot soak did wonders for his hröa and his frame of mind. By the time he was done with the bath and was dressed in his court finery, he felt he could face the Council and his uncle with more hope and a brighter outlook than before.

Ingoldo appeared just as the servant was helping him with the finishing touches on his garb and, giving him a once-over, nodded in approval. He dismissed the servant and they were alone once again. "Remember what I said earlier," he warned Ingalaurë. "The next person who gets punished for anything you do wrong will not be you but Tamurilon."

Ingalaurë gave a start. "Tam! What have you done with him?"

"Nothing at the moment," Ingoldo said with a sneer, "and I will continue doing nothing so long as you behave. Do I make myself clear?"

Ingalaurë nodded reluctantly.

"Good, then," his uncle said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Your Council awaits you, my prince. Shall we go?"

Ingalaurë wanted to wipe the smug look from Ingoldo’s face but he schooled his own expression to one of indifference. "Yes, let us by all means go," he said as he made his way to the door, and, opening it, gave the guards who started to block his path an imperious stare, forcing them to move back so he could step outside the room. He made his way down the hall towards the council chambers at as dignified a pace as he could manage, ignoring the pain that still laced his hröa, ignoring Ingoldo’s muttered cursing, ignoring the guards’ frantic scrambling to catch up with him, concentrating solely on ways of defeating his uncle without getting himself or anyone else hurt in the process.

****

Ingalaurë entered the council chamber to find the rest of the Privy Council already there, including Tamurilon, which surprised him. He gave the ellon a relieved smile which the ellon did not see, for he had his eyes cast down. Ingalaurë frowned, wondering what might be wrong with him, but he was not given an opportunity to enquire, for everyone rose as he entered and gave him bows and curtsies. He nodded to them and stood beside his own chair, noticing Ingoldo taking his former seat, the one Ingalaurë had been occupying before everything went wrong.

"My lords and ladies," he said, "please forgive me for being unavailable these last few days. I fear I was somewhat detained." He cast a look at Ingoldo and saw his lips tightening and then noticed the knowing looks several of the councillors gave one another. "At any rate, I assure you I am well and ready to address any problems that need to be looked at, so let us sit and get on with it."

He sat and the others followed suit. He looked down the table, trying to gauge the mood of the councillors, making a mental note of who might be sympathetic towards him and who would be more likely to side with Ingoldo. Nolondur, Lindórië, Almáriel and Tam would definitely side with him rather than with Ingoldo. Lassezel could go either way, but Ingalaurë thought he might be persuaded away from Ingoldo’s camp with the right incentive. There were others of whom he was less sure and he knew he had to tread carefully for now until he was sure of his allies.

"Does anyone have the agenda?" he asked innocently. "I’m afraid I was not informed of this meeting until the last minute and so I do not know what needs to be discussed."

Again he cast a surreptitious eye at Ingoldo to gauge his uncle’s reaction. Ingoldo sat there fuming but said nothing. Ingalaurë wondered how far he could press his luck, for he did not want Tam or anyone else to suffer on his account. He was still puzzled by Tam’s refusal to look at him and hoped in some manner to get him alone to speak with him, though he doubted Ingoldo would allow it. He forced himself to focus on Lindórië who was speaking.

"...need to discuss the state of the farms and we need to reopen the city gates," she said. "It’s ridiculous to keep them closed and...."

"I have my reasons," Ingoldo interrupted angrily, and then stopped realizing his mistake. "I mean, the Steward..."

"Has had no reason to bar the gates," Ingalaurë said firmly. "That was your idea, Uncle, thinking to capture Ingwion as you captured me. You never did find him, though, did you? So, there’s no reason to keep the gates closed after all this time. I doubt if Ingwion is even near Vanyamar. He’s more likely looking for Atar."

Ingoldo glared at him and the barely suppressed fury told Ingalaurë that perhaps he had pressed his luck too far.

"Then you have no intention of taking the crown?" Lassezel asked.

Ingalaurë shook his head. "I meant what I said. I will stand as Steward, as Regent to the High King until he returns."

"Yet there is that writ of abdication," the lord reminded them. "I saw the signature. It’s authentic."

"If you truly believe my atar would be so faithless to his own people, Lassezel," Ingalaurë said, "then anything I say to the contrary is pointless. If all of you truly accept my uncle’s word that the High King has abdicated and has no intention of ever returning to Vanyamar, then you will do well to appoint him to be your king and be done with it and allow me and my family to depart in peace. Until and unless that happens, I will act as regent for the High King only and nothing more."

He suddenly stood, clutching his stomach against the dull throb of pain that was still there, and faced Ingoldo. "And you, Uncle, must decide: am I indeed Steward to the High King and all that that entails, or are you our next king?"

"Ingwë abdicated...." Ingoldo began but Ingalaurë cut him off with an impatient gesture.

"No one believes that," he retorted and was glad to see others nodding in agreement. "And unless you are willing to produce Atar’s corpse for all to see, I will never believe it." He paused to let the implications of his words settle before continuing. "Atar is out there somewhere. You may have hidden him away, but Ingwion will find him and restore him to us. In the meantime, what will you do, Uncle? Will you allow me my freedom to act as I think best as Steward to the realm or will you take the crown for yourself and prove the lie of your protestation that you are only doing what Atar wanted?"

Ingoldo stared at him in furious disbelief and, in truth, Ingalaurë was not sure where his courage was coming from to so publicly defy his uncle, but he decided he was tired of the pretense. If he was to be Steward then he had best start acting as one and not allow Ingoldo free rein. He glanced surreptitiously at the other members of the Council to gauge their reactions and was pleased to see that most were giving him nods of approval. Even Tamurilon was finally looking at him with grudging respect.

"Well, Ingoldo, we’re all waiting to hear your answer," Nolondur said, giving him a sardonic look. "Will you leave off this pretense of insisting that Ingwë has abdicated and let Ingalaurë and Elindis and Indil free to do what they must to secure the kingdom for the High King, or will you show your true colors and lock all of us up so you can continue ruling to your heart’s content?"

Ingoldo shifted his gaze to Nolondur and sneered. "Do you see me wearing the crown, Nolondur? Ingalaurë...."

"Has either been your prisoner or your puppet or both," Almáriel retorted before anyone else could speak, "but it looks as if he is finally standing up to your tyranny and I, for one, will stand with him." With those words, she did just that, coming around to stand behind Ingalaurë, laying a hand on his shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze. Ingalaurë turned to look at her and smiled when she winked at him.

His attention was diverted when Lindórië and Nolondur and three others also stood and moved towards him. He felt a rush of gratitude as more than half the Council now joined him. Those who remained seated seemed to vacillate and then Lassezel stood, causing several people to gasp in surprise. Even Ingoldo gave him a sour look. Tamurilon, Ingalaurë noted, was still seated.

"And you, Tam?" he asked the ellon. "Will you not stand with me?"

Tamurilon looked at him, indecision and something else, something akin to guilt, warring within him. "Why would you want me?" he asked bleakly. "Because of me, you and the others were captured."

"That doesn’t matter now," Ingalaurë said. "I never blamed you. It was just unfortunate that you were recognized. Come, háno, come and join me." He held out his hand to the ellon. "I’m sure Indil is anxious for news of you," he added.

For a moment, Ingalaurë was unsure if Tamurilon would comply but finally he stood, leaving only two besides Ingoldo still seated. Ingalaurë smiled at his friend, then turned to Ingoldo. "So, Uncle, you have a choice: leave me free to do as I must or order your guards to arrest us all and lock us up."

Ingoldo scowled. "You think you are so clever, don’t you? You think your little show of bravado will turn everything in your favor, but you forget, seldo, I have control of the city. The guards belong to me and will do as I say. Do you seriously think...."

"It matters not," Nolondur interjected. "You are not even a member of the Privy Council, Ingoldo. You actually have no status here. You think you have the power, but the power lies in this Council and in Ingalaurë. You really should have taken the crown when you had the chance, you know. You were being too clever by half insisting on that farce of an abdication ceremony. You may have the guards, but Ingalaurë has the city and the people will rise up to defend him if necessary."

"But only if they know that they should," Ingoldo retorted slyly.

"They will know," Almáriel said with a smirk, "for I’ve left instructions with my husband."

"What sort of instructions?" Ingoldo demanded.

"The sort that will incite the people against you should anything happen to delay my return to my home," Almáriel said. "I’ve never trusted you, Ingoldo, and I’ve trusted you even less lately. If I do not return home within a reasonable time, certain things will be put in motion and woe to you, Ingoldo, if they are."

Ingalaurë wasn’t sure how to react to Almáriel’s news as he watched the play of emotions on his uncle’s face. He wondered just what kind of instructions she had given to Lord Castamir. He would have to remember to ask her later, assuming they did not find out firsthand. Ingoldo continued scowling at them and finally spoke. "It seems I have no choice. Very well, Nephew. You may act as Steward to the realm until such time as my brother returns."

He gave them a sardonic grin and Ingalaurë had to restrain himself from leaping on his uncle and demanding him to tell them where Ingwë was. Instead he simply bowed. "And Ammë and Indil are to be allowed their freedom as well," he pressed. "I promise we will not attempt to leave the city. Indeed, I have no intention of doing so, for I mean to take up my duties as Steward."

Ingoldo nodded. "I will inform the guards. And now, if you will excuse me, as Lord Nolondur was quick to point out, I am not a member of this Council and have no reason to remain." With as much dignity as he could muster, Ingoldo gave them all a cold stare and then made his way out. The two lords who had remained seated throughout the confrontation made to rise but Lassezel shook his head at them and they subsided somewhat meekly, looking embarrassed.

Ingalaurë went over to give Tamurilon a warm hug, though he was careful not to squeeze too hard, for he was still in pain. "Thank you, all of you, for your support," he said. "I will do my best to rule wisely and well with your help, my lords and ladies."

"I’m proud of you, Ingalaurë," Almáriel said with a satisfied smile. "I honestly did not know if you had it in you to defy Ingoldo."

"I did not know either," Ingalaurë admitted shyly as he released Tamurilon, wincing only slightly at a twinge.

Nolondur gave him a shrewd look. "What did he do to you, hinya?" he asked.

"It doesn’t matter," Ingalaurë said. "All that matters is that we have taken power away from my uncle."

"Yet, perhaps not completely away," Lindórië said. "At any rate, we will need to keep a far closer eye on Ingoldo. He surprised many of us when he made his initial move to take over. I, for one, will not be caught sleeping again."

"Well, while we’re all here, why don’t we spend a little time talking about what needs to be done," Ingalaurë suggested. "You mentioned, Lindórië, the need to reopen the gates and encourage commerce again. I agree, so why don’t we start with that and go on from there?" The others all nodded and resumed their seats and began discussing matters pertinent to the kingdom.

And in the corner, unclad and undetected, stood the Maia Nornoros of the People of Manwë, smiling fondly at Ingalaurë, glad that the Child had been open to his silent urging to confront Ingoldo before the Council. He was sure that inspiring Ingalaurë as he had lay outside his purview as a Watcher only, but he did not care. He had hated having to stand helplessly by as Ingoldo beat the ellon. Inspiring Ingalaurë had been his revenge against Ingoldo. Now watching as Ingalaurë confidently led the deliberations of the Council, Nornoros decided any punishment due him would be worth it.

****

Seldo: Boy; meant as an insult in this instance.