79: Ilmarin

"It’s been too long," Ingwion whispered to the others as they crouched behind the trees, keeping an eye on the south road. The waiting was nerve-wracking and it seemed as if time had slowed, but even so, Ingwion could tell from looking up at the position of the stars that more time had passed than should have. "Where are they?" he demanded with a hiss of breath. He felt his stomach muscles knotting with fear for his ammë and siblings.

"Perhaps they were delayed," Findis offered, but Ingwion could tell from her tone that she didn’t believe her own words.

"I will go and see," Eccaldamos said, and before anyone could protest, the ellon was slipping away into the darkness.

"Something’s happened to them," Ingwion said bleakly.

"We don’t know that," Valandur protested, but there was an element of doubt in his voice and Ingwion closed his eyes against the despair he felt smothering his fëa.

It was close to an hour before Eccaldamos returned, slipping soundlessly to where they were hiding. Even with just the stars to give them light, Ingwion could see the look of horror on the ellon’s face as he joined them.

"They were caught," he said baldly without preamble. Findis gasped and fell into Valandur’s arms. Ingwion felt his universe shifting in a sickening way and Eccaldamos grabbed him, keeping him upright. He forced himself to swallow the bile that threatened to rise and gave Eccaldamos a bleak look.

"How?"

Eccaldamos shook his head. "I do not know for sure, but from what I could gather from eavesdropping, someone recognized Lord Tamurilon."

"Valar!" Valandur spat out.

Eccaldamos nodded, looking grim. "They were almost out, too. A few more minutes and they would have been free."

"What do we do now?" Findis asked despairingly from the safety of her husband’s arms.

For a moment, Ingwion had the mad idea of rushing back into the city to rescue his ammë and the others, but realized how utterly foolish the notion was. He closed his eyes against the pain of what he knew was the right decision, indeed, the only decision they could make. He opened his eyes and saw Eccaldamos eyeing him, his expression neutral, but Ingwion had the feeling the ellon knew exactly what he had been thinking.

"We go to Ilmarin," he said softly.

"What about....?" Findis started to ask, but Valandur hushed her.

"There’s no way we can help them now except by making sure the rest of us are not caught," he told her. "There’s bound to be a concerted search for us outside the city now. We need to reach Ilmarin before that. It’s our only chance."

Findis nodded reluctantly. Ingwion stooped down and grabbed one of the haversacks, only realizing it was the one his brother had put together. He held it close to him, ruthlessly stifling the urge to weep. "Let’s go," was all he said, and without bothering to see what the others were doing, turned his face to the north and strode away.

****

It took them time to reach the rendevous point, for at the last minute it occurred to Ingwion that the road which circled the city from the south to the north passed directly by the north gate, which meant that they would have to leave the road before that to avoid being seen by the guards. He swore under his breath as he came to that realization and wondered what his atar would say if he knew how stupid his eldest child truly was. Without a word to the others, he moved off the road and headed along a fold of the mountain flank towards a stand of trees. In the near dark it was not an easy walk and he could hear Findis stumbling over an unseen hummock, Valandur catching her before she fell. Once within the trees they angled their way so that they were more or less parallel to the road, which they could see with its shaped flagstones shining white under starlight. Ingwion idly wondered how long it would be before the Lampwrights got around to setting up lamps along the road itself, or if they would even bother. He imagined his atar would insist that they do, but Ingwë wasn’t there and Ingoldo was unlikely to think of such things.

He shook his head in dismay. So much of their world had disappeared with the death of the Trees. Nothing could be counted on. Everything that he knew about himself and about his world had been turned upside down and he wasn’t even sure if it would ever feel right again. He brushed such thoughts away and concentrated on their route. In a way, he was grateful that the Lampwrights had not gotten too ambitious as yet. If they stuck close to the trees, it was just possible that they would pass the gate unnoticed.

Taking a look around he whispered some instructions to the others and saw Valandur nod. Then he, Findis and Eccaldamos moved further into the woods, though not so far that they could not see Ingwion who flitted along the edge of the copse, keeping the road in sight. The trees continued to parallel the road and, while their path was not too encumbered, they had to contend with making their way through a thick forest in the dark, a forest that climbed along a ridge so that at one point Ingwion was actually looking down upon the road that lay several yards away.

He sighed with relief when they finally passed the gate without incident. He could see that it had been closed — the first time that had happened since the city’s founding — and there was no sign of guards. Apparently Ingoldo was taking no chances.

To be safe, though, Ingwion continued to walk under the eaves of the woods until the gate was far enough behind them that he felt reasonably safe and with a gesture to the others headed back to the road. They headed downhill, traversing a small ravine and climbing back up to the road. This part of the road was still flat, consisting of flagged pavement. About a mile beyond the gate they would encounter the first of many stairs that alternated with the flat pavement which would eventually lead them up to Ilmarin. Ingwion guessed they perhaps had another quarter of a mile to go. He took a look at his companions. Valandur and Eccaldamos were quietly waiting, looking no worse for wear than if they had been strolling in a park. Findis was pulling twigs out of her hair, looking disgusted. Ingwion forced himself not to smile.

"We’re not far from the first rise," he whispered and when the others nodded he set off again.

True to his word they saw the first set of stairs in a matter of minutes. Four people were sitting on the steps, but they rose as soon as they saw Ingwion.

"Where’s Elindis and the others?" Indis hissed as Ingwion’s party approached.

"They didn’t make it," Ingwion said shortly, not even bothering to stop. He did not dare stop. If he stopped, he would start thinking about his ammë and Ingil and Indil and Tam and he didn’t dare or he knew he would break down and that would be not only unforgivable but dangerous for them all. Best to keep going, reach Ilmarin and seek the help of the Valar. Surely they would offer them help in finding the High King and rescuing his family. He had to believe that or there was no hope for any of them.

Marilla gasped in dismay and Tulcafindil held her. Arminas’ expression was set. Indis simply looked confused. "What do you mean, they didn’t make it?" she demanded. "Where are you going, Ingwion? We need to...."

"No!" Ingwion hissed angrily as he turned to look down at the others, for no one else but he had started climbing the stairs. "We go on. The city is closed to us. We cannot rescue anyone."

"But...."

"NO!" he shouted, no longer caring about remaining quiet. "We go on!" he exclaimed, letting his own anger take hold. "We cannot help them. They are lost to us. We go on."

Without another word, ignoring the stunned looks on everyone’s faces, he turned and began climbing the stairs, no longer interested in what anyone else did or did not do. He only knew he had to keep moving, keep moving and not think too much about anything except to reach Ilmarin and put everything in Lord Manwë’s hands. That was his only hope. That was the only thing that was important.

He heard several sighs and the sound of people moving behind him but he did not look back. He would not look back. Ahead. He needed to think ahead, needed to think only of putting one foot in front of the other and not stop, for if he stopped....

The climb seemed endless, made more so by the silence among them, for no one dared speak out loud, though Ingwion heard Valandur giving his aunt and the others a whispered account of what they knew of the fate of the rest of the royal family. If anyone made any comment about it, he didn’t hear.

Eventually, they reached the gates of Ilmarin with the eagle statues guarding the entrance, their outstretched wings forming an arch. Beyond, forever lit, was the statue of Varda with the miniature star pulsing gently. They came inside the courtyard and Ingwion noticed the awed expressions on the faces of those who had probably never come here and found himself smiling, feeling somewhat superior.

"This way," he said, pointing towards an arcade that would take them to where he hoped to meet one of the Maiar who would take them to the Valar, or send word to them if they were still in Valmar. He realized that that might be the case, that the Valar might still be in council at the Máhanaxar. Yet, he knew that they could be in Ilmarin with a single thought, so he was not too concerned. The others followed and they had not taken more than a score of steps when they encountered a Maia, one whom Ingwion did not recognize. The eight-pointed star on his surcoat told them that he was in Lady Varda’s service.

"Welcome, Children," the Maia said, his tone neutral. "What do you here?"

"I am Ingwion...."

"I know your names," the Maia interrupted, "but not your purpose."

"I wish to speak with Lord Manwë," Ingwion said, resisting a sigh, "and... and we need... sanctuary." He stumbled over that last word. He had had to ask Valandur about the word while they were making plans at the inn, for it had never been a part of his vocabulary.

The Maia’s expression never altered, but Ingwion had the feeling that he was surprised by Ingwion’s request. He gave them a bow. "I will take you to where you may rest while I see if Lord Manwë will see you," he said. With that, he turned and began walking away. Ingwion gave the others a rueful look and followed after him with the others trailing behind. Soon they were being led into a suite of rooms and the Maia showed them where they might freshen up.

"Bathe if you wish," he said, "and in the meantime, I will see that refreshments are sent to you. I cannot guarantee when the Elder King will deign to grant you an audience, so take what rest you may. When I know my master’s will, I will inform you."

Before Ingwion or anyone else could say anything, the Maia left. For a moment, they all just stood there, staring at one another. Then, Ingwion gave a shrug, dropping the haversack he’d been carrying. "I’m for a bath," he said and headed for the bathing chamber, leaving the others to gawk after him.

****

The bath, followed by the meal provided by the nameless Maia, helped. Ingwion felt more hopeful that things would turn out well. It helped that while he was bathing, his travel-stained clothes had been whisked away and returned clean and pressed. He wished he could appear before the Valar in something more fine, but he was glad he wouldn’t be facing them in a dirty and wrinkled tunic smelling of wine.

The others had also taken advantage of the amenities offered, and soon they were all freshly bathed and dressed and their mood was, if not cheerful, certainly less despondent.

"How long do you think we’ll have to wait?" Marilla asked at one point.

Ingwion shrugged. "As to that, there is no way to tell. The Valar will see us in their own time and not in ours."

This proved true, for enough time passed that another meal was brought to them and most of them even slept for a time, though Ingwion did not, spending the hours of waiting playing the sequence of events over and over again in his mind, wondering what he could have done differently to effect a better outcome, but eventually, even he tired of his own thoughts and sought his bed.

He was waken some hours later to someone calling his name and focusing his eyes he saw a Maia standing at the foot of the bed, and this one he recognized.

"Nornoros!" he exclaimed in surprise and the Maia smiled warmly.

"It is good to see you again, Little One," Nornoros said.

"Not so little anymore," Ingwion retorted with a grin.

"No, not so little," the Maia agreed with a nod. "I have been sent to escort you to Lord Manwë whenever you are ready. No need to rush. I have a light repast waiting for you in the sitting room."

"Thank you. I won’t be long," Ingwion said as he climbed out of bed and went in search of the privy.

Ten minutes later he was downing some juice and nibbling on bread and cheese. He was alone, except for the Maia. "What about the others?" he asked. "Are they not coming as well?"

Nornoros shook his head. "Lord Manwë has summoned only you," he answered. "If he wishes to speak with the rest of your party they will be summoned at need."

Ingwion grimaced, not sure he wanted to face the Valar alone, but knew he had no choice. He finished breaking his fast and then followed Nornoros as the Maia led him along one hallway after another until Ingwion wasn’t sure he would be able to find his way back to the others without help. Eventually they came in front of tall doors made of gold and mithril which opened silently as they approached. Ingwion wondered where he was being taken, for he had simply assumed that the Valar would see him in the usual audience chamber where he always met them. He stumbled to a halt in shock and consternation as he reached the threshold. Nornoros turned and gave him an encouraging smile, but Ingwion just stood there, for he saw that he’d been brought to the main throne room of the Valar. There they sat in somber majesty upon their thrones and there was little in their expressions that seemed welcoming to the Elf. He felt his stomach tightening and prayed that he would not embarrass himself by sicking up his breakfast. Nornoros said nothing, but gently took Ingwion’s arm and led him into the room, passing the thrones on either side until they were standing before the thrones of the Elder King and Varda.

Nornoros bowed and Ingwion had the presence of mind to give his own obeisance. "Prince Ingwion, my lord," the Maia announced, rather unnecessarily to Ingwion’s mind.

Manwë nodded. "Thank you, Nornoros. You may go."

Ingwion had an irrational urge to grab the Maia by the arm and beg him not to leave, but forced himself not to move. Nornoros bowed again, gave Ingwion another encouraging smile and left. Ingwion suddenly wished he could leave, too. However, even as Nornoros was making his way out, Manwë was addressing Ingwion

"You wished to see us, Ingwion."

Ingwion nodded, looking up at the Elder King. "Atar is missing," he said, deciding to just get to the point. "Uncle Ingoldo has taken over the city and he has Ammë and my brother and sister. I need help, lord. I need to find Atar and rescue the others from Ingoldo."

"Ingwë never reached Vanyamar?" Manwë asked, looking troubled.

"No, lord," Ingwion answered. "None have seen him since he parted company with Aunt Indis in Eldamas."

There was silence that was pregnant with meaning, for Ingwion had no doubt that the Valar were in silent communication. He forced himself to remain still and keep his eyes on Lord Manwë, or rather on Lord Manwë’s chest. He did not dare to look the Elder King in the eyes for fear of what he might see there. The silence seemed to go on forever, but eventually Manwë nodded.

"This is disturbing news," he said, "but I do not know what you expect us to do about it."

Ingwion looked at the Vala in surprise. "But, surely you can help find Atar," he exclaimed. "Your Maiar..."

"Have more important things to do than look for one wayward Elf," Varda said, entering the conversation.

Ingwion felt the blood rush from his face. "Wayward Elf?" he whispered in disbelief. "Atar is no wayward Elf, lady. He is the High King and your most faithful servant. Will you dismiss him so casually? He who has ever sat at your feet and nigh on worshiped the ground you tread? How dare you...."

"No, child, how dare you," Varda said coldly. "In case you have not noticed, we are suffering our own crisis. The Trees are dead and Melkor has escaped us once again. The Noldor have revolted against us as you well know and even now they are staining the white sands of Alqualondë with the blood of their Telerin kin, seeking to wrest from Olwë his swanships. And now you come here demanding us to find your Atar?"

Ingwion reeled at the coldness of the Valië’s tone and the look of disgust that marred her fair countenance. "What do you mean?" he whispered. "What is happening in Alqualondë?"

"Not your concern," Manwë said brusquely.

"Not my...." Ingwion blinked two or three times, trying to understand what was being said.

Manwë nodded. "Not your concern, child," he repeated, though more gently. "You have your atar to find and restore to his rightful place and to bring Ingoldo to justice."

"Where do I look?" Ingwion implored. "Can you not lend me even one Maia to help?"

"No, Ingwion. I cannot," Manwë replied, "and more, I will not. We Valar are done with attempting to intervene in your lives. We have seen the result of our intervention with Fëanáro and all to no avail. No. In this you are alone. Find Ingwë and do what you can to restore peace among your people. We Valar have other concerns."

It was like a slap in the face and Ingwion could only stand there and stare at Manwë in disbelief. This could not be happening. They had to help him. How could he possibly succeed against Ingoldo without their help. "Please, my lord," he pleaded, going to his knees in supplication. "Do not abandon us... me. Atar is your most devoted servant. Will you just abandon him to his fate? Have you no pity? Have you no compassion for our plight?"

"Our compassion has made it possible for Fëanáro and the Noldor to rebel against us with impunity," Varda answered. "We will not make that mistake again. You are on your own in this, Ingwion. As my lord has said, we Valar have other and more pressing concerns."

For a long moment Ingwion just knelt there, unsure what to say or do next. Manwë saved him the trouble. "You should go now, my son," he said gently. "Any in your party who wishes may remain here in safety, but beyond that we will render no aid. You must fight this battle on your own."

Ingwion stood up, despair flooding him. From the moment he had learned that his ammë and his brother and sister had been captured by Ingoldo, the one thought that had kept him going, that had stayed him from doing something foolish or dangerous, was that once he reached Ilmarin he would gain the help of the Valar and then all would be well. But now... now that hope had been brutally dashed and he was at a loss as to what to do next.

"You will not help me," he stated bleakly, knowing the answer but needing confirmation.

For the first time since the audience began Manwë actually looked sad as he shook his head. "No, we will not," he replied.

Ingwion stared at the Elder King and Varda for a moment longer, then looked, first to his left and then to his right, at the other Valar who sat on their thrones impassively. He looked again at Manwë and then, without bothering to give the Vala his obeisance, he turned on his heel and walked away, never looking back. The gold and mithril doors opened silently for him and closed behind him just as silently.

He was unsurprised not to see Nornoros or one of the other Maiar there to escort him back to where his companions were waiting. Apparently what the Elder King said, he meant: Ingwion would receive no help.

He found he had to stop and catch his breath, for the emotions he had kept under tight rein now threatened to explode. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into fists, falling to his knees, suddenly feeling weak with anger and despair. And then he threw back his head and screamed.