77: Trial’s Ending

When they returned to the throne room it was to find that Oromë had left but Námo was still there. The Vala gave them a shrewd look and then smiled, nodding, as if pleased by what he saw. When Finrod would have gone to join Glorfindel and Sador, Ingwë stayed him and, taking his hand, led him to the dais, ordering another chair to be placed beside his own throne.

"Sit beside me, Nephew," Ingwë whispered so only Finrod and Arafinwë could hear, "for I deem you have greater experience in such matters than your atar or I and we would welcome your wisdom in judging these prisoners."

Finrod stared at the High King for a moment before giving him a deep bow and complying to Ingwë’s wish. As he sat, Finrod was revealed to them all as one endued with solemn majesty no less than that of the High King’s and all looked on in amazement and wondered. So it was that the High King was flanked by two fellow rulers when the questioning of the prisoners began.

None were willing to respond to the questions put to them, yet all of them discovered, to their horror, that they were unable to resist answering. All felt the implacable power of the three kings who sat in judgment. Even the bystanders could feel their potency and none were unmoved. The awful presence of the Lord of Mandos did nothing to make things easier and all the prisoners quailed whenever Námo’s gaze fell upon them.

Thus, it was discovered that three others were involved in the attack on Glorfindel and orders were issued for their arrests once their identities were revealed and confirmed by Lord Námo.

"They may be in hiding," Glorfindel suddenly said, stepping forward to speak.

"And would you care to guess where they might be?" Valandur asked with a sardonic smile.

Glorfindel stared at the ground for a moment, deep in thought, before replying. "Look for them in Eldamas. That is where they were recruited."

"You know this for certain?" Valandur asked sharply.

Glorfindel gave the loremaster a feral grin. "So I’ve been told."

Every eye fell on Námo who evinced a virtuous air that many found disturbing. "Don’t look at me, my Children. I haven’t told Glorfindel anything."

Glorfindel snorted at that and gave the Vala a disbelieving look. Námo’s smile merely deepened.

"Then who..." Lindórië began then stop, blushing in embarrassment when Námo gave her a knowing look.

The Lord of Mandos nodded. "What the Elder King chooses to reveal to you Children and when he chooses to do so is his business. If Glorfindel says these others are hiding in Eldamas, I would suggest you take his word for it." Here he paused and gave them all a brilliant smile. "For some reason, my brother is rather fond of our little Balrog-slayer." He looked directly at the prisoners then, his expression never changing. "So he takes a rather dim view of all that has happened to him... as do I."

The Vala’s tone of voice was rather mild, which only made it worse. Every one of the prisoners blanched and in spite of the fact that they were bound to their chairs, two of them actually tried to flee and the guards had to subdue them.

Ingwë turned to the chief of his guards and nodded. "Eldamas then." The guard bowed and quietly motioned for several others to follow him out of the throne room. Ingwë continued to address the rest of the court. "We will continue with the trial of these five. When the others have been apprehended there will be another trial for their benefit. Let us proceed with the questioning."

Tulcaner was the most reluctant to speak, yet in the end, even he was unable to resist the relentless questioning, not only by Valandur and Lindórië, but by the three kings as well, for Finrod had questions of his own to which he wanted answers.

"I know why Vorondil and Ingoldo were involved in my brother’s kidnapping," he commented at one point, addressing Tulcaner and the three ellyn who had been taken at the lodge. "I am curious to know why you were involved."

It turned out that the other elves all had kinsmen residing in Mandos, they having died in the War of Wrath.

"Why should you rebel Noldor and the Sindar who forsook the Blessed Land for Endórë be released before the Faithful who died in a war not of their making?" Tulcaner snarled.

Finrod raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that how you see yourselves, as the Faithful? The ones who did not defy the Authority of the Valar, the ones who did not participate in the Kinslaying, the ones who did not die on the shores of Mistaringwë during the Battle-under-Stars or in any of the other battles fought across the face of Beleriand, the ones who were not enslaved by Melkor to toil in darkness and despair? Those Faithful?"

Tulcaner did not answer, but his sneer said it all. Both Glorfindel and Sador went absolutely white with anger. Ingwion, Elessairon and Lómion had to physically hold both of them back. Alassiel was seen wrapping her arms around Glorfindel in an attempt to comfort him. Finrod stole a glance at Námo, whose expression was impassive and unreadable, and sighed.

"You are, of course, correct," he said softly and sorrow dripped from every word. Not a few closed their eyes against the weight of grief that they inexplicably felt at hearing Finrod’s words. The former King of Nargothrond stood up then and a dark fire was seen burning in his eyes that made many shudder. "Yet, your anger is misplaced." Without looking he pointed at Námo. "There is the object of your scorn. There is the one who holds your kinsmen in his keeping, who decides who is Reborn and who is not. There is the one to whom you should complain." Now he pointed at the prisoners, his voice dripping with scorn. "Yet it took seven of you to subdue one Noldorin rebel, whose only real crime was that he was reborn before your kinsmen."

Silence reigned. No one moved, enspelled as they were by Finrod’s words. Slowly he sat and his voice, when he spoke, was devoid of any emotion.

"Do you know how I died?"

Ingwë put a hand on the ellon’s arm. "No, child. Do not torture yourself this way. It will do no one any good."

Finrod gave his uncle a brief, painful smile. "Dying was not the worst thing that happened to me, Uncle. Dying was the easy part. It was what came afterwards that was hard." He sighed then, closing his eyes to bring himself under control again. "As you wish, Sire. I will speak of it no more."

"But I will speak of it," Námo said gently and gave Finrod a sympathetic look when the ellon opened his eyes in surprise. The Lord of Mandos turned his attention to the court. "Findaráto is correct. Dying is often the easy part. Here before you is one who gave up crown and scepter for an oath to one of the Atani, an oath he held more precious than any Silmaril. Here is one who fought one of my Fallen Brother’s Maia servants, not with sword, but with Songs of Power, though he would have been better to have fought with sword, for he would never have defeated Sauron otherwise." He ignored Finrod’s expression of disbelief. "There are many ways to die, my Children, and some deaths are more gruesome than others. I will not bore you with the details. Suffice to say that Findaráto died in excruciating pain, yet I know he would gladly suffer death again should the need ever arise."

All saw Finrod nod at these words and even Glorfindel and Sador nodded, adopting Námo’s judgment of Finrod’s character for themselves. Námo continued.

"Findaráto, and all who have died, including the Vanyar and Noldor who died in the War of Wrath, suffered Judgment. There is no escape from that. Faithful or no, Rebel or no, Judgment comes to all who enter Mandos. Eru decrees it and I see it done. Judgment most often is the most terrifying thing any face, but afterwards comes Forgiveness and Reconciliation and the Renewal of Hope. Love there is and Mercy and none who come before us come chained."

He paused for a moment to allow time for his words to sink in. There were quiet sobs throughout the room and many who had wondered now confronted their own pain and sense of loss for the first time and found release in tears they thought had been shed long since.

When Námo spoke again, his tone was gentle and loving. "Your kinsmen will be released from Mandos, I promise you. The time of their release, however, is not yet. Have patience, my Children... and faith." He then turned to Finrod and gave him a warm, understanding smile, which Finrod returned.

At last the questioning was done. All eventually broke down and admitted to their crimes. Ingoldo had a defeated look on his face and his eyes were dark with fear. There was a brief recess while Ingwë conferred with Arafinwë and Finrod. When they returned to the throne room, Ingwë looked upon his brother Ingoldo with a mixture of sorrow and disgust as he addressed him.

"Did We not warn you, my brother, after the last time, that you should watch yourself? We know you have no fear of Us, but Ingwion is another matter...." He nodded in satisfaction when Ingoldo blanched. "Yes, and We would like nothing better than to leave you to his tender mercies."

Many stole a glance at the Vanyarin prince, who stood to one side of the throne dais with a grim look on his face as he stared at his uncle. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Ingwion was a dangerous foe to his atar’s enemies and many of the older elves remembered the circumstances under which Ingwion proved just how dangerous he could be. Ingoldo had good reason to fear the firstborn son of the High King. Ingwë smiled grimly.

"However, my brother rulers," — here he nodded to both Arafinwë and Finrod — "and I have decided on a different fate for you and the other conspirators. You will all be sent to Formenos for a period of time. Others will join you who were involved in a different plot but all are guilty of disrupting the peace of Aman."

Valandur stood then and bowed to the High King. "Sire, how will we ensure that they will remain in Formenos? For all his arrogance, even Fëanáro had a certain sense of honor and, at least in the beginning, abided by the terms of his exile. But I deem none of these have any honor left and I pity the guards who must be sent into exile with them."

Námo spoke then. "Fear not. The Valar will set the Maiar to watch Formenos. No elves but the prisoners and any family who wish to follow them need endure exile."

"How will they live? What will they do there?" Valandur asked.

"The climate is harsher than here, but not unduly so, and the land is arable," Arafinwë replied. "They can well support themselves with farming and the tending of sheep. It will give them something to do during their time of exile and will perhaps teach them humility, or the value of honest work, if nothing else."

Valandur nodded and bowed to the kings before resuming his seat, satisfied with the answers given.

Ingwë turned his attention back to the prisoners. "The length of your exile will be determined later, but you Ingoldo We banish from Eldamar along with Tinwetariel your wife."

There were shocked murmurs all around, but they stilled as Ingwë continued.

"You and Tinwetariel will remain in Formenos until this present Age ends as the Valar decree, at which time We will review your case and determine if you have shown yourself repentant of your crimes against Us. Only then will you be permitted to return to Eldamar, though the conditions of your parole will be very strict. The other prisoners, when their exile ends, will go to Lórien for a length of time to be determined by the Valar, there to serve the needs of the Reborn."

"Nay, Ingwë," Námo interrupted with a shake of his head. "Not to Lórien. They shall come to me instead."

There were gasps all around and one of the prisoners gave a strangled scream and fainted. Ingwë stared at the Vala in consternation. "Do you mean for them to die, lord?"

Námo shook his head. "Nay, child. I mean no such thing. They shall come before the gates of Mandos and I will set them to a task of my choosing. In Formenos they may learn repentance; in Mandos they will have a different lesson." The grimness of the Vala’s tone was such that no one even thought to ask just what that lesson might entail.

Ingwë nodded reluctantly. "It will be as you say, my lord. Will you speak then the doom upon these?"

Namo shook his head. "To Ingoldo and Tinwetariel only will I speak the doom as my lord Manwë dictates and only within the Máhanaxar. Bring them before us on the third day from now." Then, without another word, the Lord of Mandos simply was not there.

Ingwë sighed and cast a rueful glance at Arafinwë and Finrod before addressing the court. "This trial is ended. Remove the prisoners."

****

Mistaringwë: "Grey cold mountain lake"; the Quenya version of the Sindarin Mithrim.

Note: The Battle-under-Stars, or the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, was the second great battle fought in Beleriand when Fëanor led his people up the Firth of Drengist to the shores of Lake Mithrim. It was so called because Isil had not yet risen when the battle was fought.