11: Ingwion iYánassë Elenion

Ingwion followed Maranwë down several corridors and up two flights of marble stairs before they came to a door at the end of a short hallway. The elven prince stared at the portal with interest. It was made of mithril and appeared to have no handle so he was unsure how it could open. Etched into it was an eight-pointed star inlaid with diamonds with a single multi-faceted sapphire embedded in the center. Just below the sapphire was a small scallop-shaped basin set into the door. Issuing from the sapphire itself was a stream of water that filled the basin but did not overflow it. Where the water went, Ingwion could not say, nor could he ascertain how the water was issuing from the sapphire in the first place. He had learned long ago, however, not to question such wonders of the Valar but merely to accept them. Above and below the star were etched words inlaid with emeralds. He read the words out loud, unaware that he was doing so:

"Anairë nén sinallo na envinyanta," read the first line. "Poic’ ar manwa rosta eleninnar," read the second. Ingwion gave the Maia a questioning look.

"Dip your hands in the water and drink," Maranwë instructed.

Ingwion bent down and cupped his hands, dipping them into the cool water and taking a sip, and then another. Something in the water seemed to renew his spirit and he stepped back from the door feeling more refreshed than he had ever felt. He was unsurprised when the portal silently opened and Maranwë gestured for him to enter.

"What is this place, Maranwë, and why have you brought me here?" Ingwion asked, refusing to move until he had some answers.

"It is called the Chapel of Stars," the Maia answered mildly. "It is a place of meditation and repose." Then he gave the ellon a sterner look. "And I have brought you here because this is where my Lord Námo wants you to be." Ingwion paled somewhat at the implied rebuke and nodded. Maranwë gestured towards the entrance again and this time the ellon complied.

He found himself inside a vestibule where a sunken pool took up most of the floor space. From the steam rising he gathered the water was hot. The air was redolent with the scent of linden, lovage and lavender, and Ingwion could feel his spirits rising even further. On either side of the pool were two elf-high iron-wrought candelabra. The one on the right was in the shape of an elleth, her hands held high with the palms up; the other, on the left, was in the shape of an ellon in a similar pose. Flames eternally lit sprung from their palms and the crowns of their heads. The floor was made of cool blue-grey slate tiles, restful to the eyes and spirit. The right wall was a series of shelves stuffed with towels and tunics. The towels were white, the tunics were dark blue.

Beyond the pool, separating them from the main part of the room, was an intricately carved rosewood screen. A closer examination showed each of the fourteen Powers carved in high relief, with the Valier ranged on the right while their male counterparts were on the left. Below each of the figures was a shield on which was carved their particular emblem, thus identifying them. Above eight of the figures were flames and Ingwion took a moment to realize that each of these must be the Aratar, the eight most powerful of the Valar. The figures were facing inward towards the central panel with Varda leading the procession of the Valier even as Manwë led the Valar. Each figure held their hands before them, palms up, above which was a single diamond caught in the wood; they were obviously meant to signify stars.

The central panel had a carving of the Sun-in-glory. The disc was inlaid in red-gold, what the elves called cullo, as opposed to the regular gold which they called malta. The four cardinal rays were also inlaid in red-gold while the other four were done in white gold. Somehow, tengwar flowed across the disc of the sun like molten fire, and even as one word faded another appeared, yet it seemed to Ingwion as if all the words were there at the same time.

Once again he was unaware that he read the words aloud as they flowed before his eyes: "iMelmë i rúma Anar ar i-ex’ eleni." He turned to Maranwë. "What does that mean?"

"Ah.... well, perhaps you will figure it out some day," the Maia said with a faint smile on his face. It was neither condescending nor arrogant and Ingwion took no offense. Rather, he seemed to accept it as a challenge.

"So, what now?" he asked. As with the outer door, this screen appeared to have no way in which to allow access into the room beyond.

Maranwë gestured to the pool. "Even as you were purified within by drinking from the font, so you must be purified without. None enter the chapel otherwise."

Ingwion nodded, not really surprised by the Maia’s answer, but more surprised by the fact that he was even there, for he could not comprehend the meaning of it all. He shrugged off his garments and slipped into the steaming pool and sighed with unexpected relief. Muscles he had not realized were tense suddenly eased and he felt a momentary dizziness.

"Easy now," Maranwë said quietly, leaning over the edge of the pool and placing his hand on the ellon’s head. "Take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

Ingwion complied and the world righted itself. Then, without further instruction he took another breath and immersed himself until he was sitting on the bottom of the pool. He felt the water cleansing him in a way he could not describe, for it seemed that far more than just the surface dirt clinging to his hröa was being washed away. When he could no longer hold his breath, he rose and shook the water from him. Opening his eyes he saw Maranwë waiting for him with a large towel and soon he was dried and donning an ankle-length tunic of dark blue samite shot with silver and gold thread, reminding Ingwion of the sky at midnight alight with stars. Maranwë then produced a comb for him to untangle his locks.

"Your clothes will be returned to you when you are ready to leave," the Maia said, gesturing towards the screen where Ingwion now saw the central panel split in half, allowing him entrance.

"What am I supposed to do in there?" Ingwion asked with some uncertainty.

Maranwë smiled. "That is up to you. You may stand or sit or lie down as you choose. This chapel is a place of meditation and sometimes one may even be visited by visions."

"But how long am I to stay here?" the prince demanded, his face creased in confusion.

"You will know when it is time to leave," the Maia replied, "but fear not! I promise you that you will leave in good time to meet your friends at the appointed trysting place. I will leave you now," he said, and taking up the ellon’s discarded clothing, he opened the door and left.

Ingwion wasn’t sure at first what he should do, for he was half inclined to follow the Maia out, but knew that that would not be permitted. He suspected, though he refused to test the theory, that were he to try to leave, the outer door would prove to be locked. Taking a deep breath, he walked under the lintel of the screen and stepped into the Chapel of Stars. He heard an audible click behind him and, turning, was not too surprised to see that the door had closed. From this side the screen was blank of any carving. Instead, two benches covered with deep dark blue cushions were carved into the wood on either side of the door, so that the screen itself was the back of the benches. Curved armrests graced the ends by the door while the other ends were flush against the wall.

He took a moment to examine the room. The floor was covered by a thick carpet into which his bare feet sank. It was primarily deep blue with greens and golds intermixed. The room itself was perhaps twice as large as the vestibule, which was to say, not large at all. There was no other furniture besides the benches backing the screen. The walls on either side were whitewashed and unadorned but halfway along on either side were niches in which were placed tall white candles that Ingwion suspected never went out and never burned down. They provided the only illumination for the chapel. Covering the wall opposite the screen was a tapestry and even in the dim candlelight and from where he stood he could see exquisite details that literally took his breath away. He had to consciously remember to breathe.

He found himself walking towards the tapestry, drinking in the storied web. Afterwards, Ingwion could never clearly say, even to himself, what exactly the tapestry showed and in the end he was left stammering about a white rose and a single-horned animal that looked something like a horse but was not and perchance there were figures dancing but who they were he could never say. At that moment though, his soul drank in the scene like one with a great thirst. Idly, as he continued to stare at the tapestry, he wondered why Maranwë had named this the Chapel of Stars, and then he happened to look up and time stopped.

There above him was the night sky in all its glory, the stars spanning across the heavens like a white veil, sparkling and glinting in the indigo velvet night. What amazed him most was how very real it looked. Somehow the ceiling did not exist, only the sky above. Yet, he knew that beyond this room Anar still ruled the heavens, for it was barely past noon. Then he realized something else: the stars in their configurations were all wrong. These were not the stars of Spring but of Autumn. It took Ingwion another minute or so to come to a further realization: he was seeing the sky as it existed that very moment as if Anar had never been. This was the heavens hidden from sight by the bright light of the Daystar.

He stood rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open in awe at what he was seeing, remembering of a sudden the first time he beheld the stars in the midst of day when everything went dark. Then, somehow, he found himself on his back gazing up into the stars, entranced. All sense of time fled from his consciousness. He could have been lying there for a moment or for an eternity, it mattered not. At some point though he thought perhaps he slept, for he felt himself dreaming or it might have been a vision as Maranwë had warned might happen....

****

He was lying there watching the stars step to their stately pavane when it seemed as if one star began to descend. As it came closer, though, he saw that it was no star but an Eagle, indeed, one of Lord Manwë’s messengers. He felt no fear at the creature’s approach until it was suddenly within the chapel with him and fell upon him, swooping him from the ground in a grip that left him breathless. The Eagle climbed upward again and flew back into the heavens until it was somehow flying amongst the stars themselves.

Ingwion could only watch in terror as stars flew by, trapped in the Eagle’s claws. How long the journey lasted he could not say, for in the infinite reaches of space time held no sway. During all this no sound or other sense touched him; he felt neither cold nor heat, or even a need to breathe. Indeed, the very monotony of the journey lulled him into a doze. It was only when he began to feel a warmth all about him that he realized that something was happening and opened his eyes. Before him was a wall of flames reaching into infinity and the heat of it began to sear his flesh from his bones. The Eagle never slowed or veered from its course but flew directly into the fire.

For the first time since the journey began, Ingwion screamed.

He must have lost consciousness, for he found himself coming to and realized he was no longer in motion, nor was he in any pain. He opened wary eyes to find himself in a garden awash in a riot of colors for which he had no name amidst flowers and trees that were equally unknown to him. Of the Eagle there was no sign. He raised himself slowly upon an elbow to better see his surroundings and froze at the sound of a voice behind him.

"Welcome, Child of Mine."

Ingwion slowly turned to see who was there and beheld Someone who seemed like unto one of the Valar, yet not, and he could not say where lay the difference. Sitting on a throne made from a living tree whose species was unknown to Ingwion was a Person who was male, though the ellon was not entirely sure, for sometimes it seemed he faced One who was definitely female. Never afterwards in his waking moments could Ingwion say what color was the Person’s hair or eyes. In his dreams, though, the hair was always like spun gold, while the eyes were the hot blue of a flame’s center. The Being wore an ankle-length tunic of white samite, but beyond that he could remember no other details.

The Being smiled and gestured for the ellon to come closer. Ingwion rose and, after making his obeisance, approached the throne. Again the Person smiled and it was as if his own amillë and atar smiled upon him in approval and he felt loved in a way he had never experienced before. Without conscious thought, he found himself on his knees, his head cradled in the Person’s lap, while He, or perhaps now it was She, gently stroked his hair.

"Wh-where am I?" Ingwion whispered at last.

"Thou’rt in the Timeless Halls."

Ingwion pulled himself upright in shock. "But that’s impossible!" he exclaimed.

The Person, now definitely male, gave him an amused look. "Oh? Why is that?"

Ingwion stared at the Being in disbelief. "I’m an Elda!"

"Yes, thou’rt, but I fail to see...."

"I can’t be in the Timeless Halls," Ingwion interrupted without being aware of doing so. "My life is bound to Arda."

"Ah... yes. Let us talk about that."

"A-about what?"

"Thy life."

Ingwion remained kneeling, not sure what to say. "Wh-who are you?" he finally asked.

The Being, now seeming to be female, smiled again, leaned over and gave Ingwion a kiss on his head. "If thou’st not guessed, Child of Mine, I will not tell thee. It is for thee to discover for thyself." Then He (yes, definitely He, this time, Ingwion decided) rose and Ingwion did as well. "Come, let us walk." The Being held out a hand and Ingwion took it.

Together they walked along a sward that was a shade of green Ingwion had never seen before. Indeed, Ingwion suspected that ‘green’ was too weak a word for what the color truly was. On either side were shade trees and flowers blooming in a profusion of colors and scents. Somewhere there was the sound of water flowing, and birds sang sweetly, hidden in the branches. Neither spoke and Ingwion suspected that his Companion was merely waiting for him to become more relaxed. Eventually, he did just that as their surroundings worked its magic upon him, soothing him and bringing him to a state of utter calm. The Being, still male, smiled benignly down upon him.

"I know thou’rt feeling disturbed, Ingwion," He said, "but I assure thee that all is well. I brought thee here so we might talk."

"A-about what... um... lord?"

"That title is fine," the Being said with a nod. "I was referring to thy life. Thou’st been rather neglectful of it of late. I am not best pleased by thine unwillingness to let the Past go."

"You don’t know...." Ingwion began to protest.

"Oh, but I do, Child of Mine, more than thou’lt ever appreciate." The Person stopped and gave Ingwion a sad smile, running a hand through the ellon’s hair. "Ye are all so precious, and I ache when I see any of My Children hurting."

Ingwion felt a frisson of awe sweep through him, but it ran too deeply for him to be able to respond one way or another to the revelation he had just received. He could only stand there trembling. The Being took him by the shoulders and gazed at him intently. There was no sense of condemnation or disapproval in those eyes, only love and acceptance, and that acceptance was so total and unconditional that Ingwion felt himself weeping, feeling ashamed. The Being bent down and kissed him on the top of his head a second time. Then, Ingwion somehow found himself on his knees, his hands folded before him in supplication. The Being, again female, took his hands in Her own, but said nothing, merely waiting for him to speak. Where the words came from, Ingwion never knew, but they felt right:

"Malyant’ antany’ estelessë cuilenya," he whispered, tears unheeded streaming down his cheeks.

"Where it hath always been wouldst thou but see, Child of Mine," the Person said with solemn joy. "Yet, I am well pleased with thine oath and sanctify it. Remember, Ingwion, the Past is just that: the Past. Naught thou canst do to change it, but the Future is there for thee to mold as thine imagination and thy will command. Let the Future hold thee, Child of Mine, not the Past." The Being smiled again and gave him a third kiss upon his head. "Now it is time for thee to return unto thy proper sphere. Close thine eyes, Ingwion."

Without hesitation, Ingwion complied and then he felt himself being drawn down into darkness and he lost all consciousness....

****

"Ingwion."

The elf blinked blearily to see Maranwë kneeling beside him, a gentle smile on his face. Ingwion looked about him, trying to piece together what had happened but....

"Was it a dream?" he asked, his voice full of confusion.

Maranwë gave him a considering look. "Does it matter, child?"

For a moment, Ingwion just lay there staring into the Maia’s eyes, attempting to reconcile his thoughts and feelings and finally shook his head. "Nay, I think it does not."

"Then, if you are ready to leave, I have your clothes in the outer room." Maranwë stood and reached down to give Ingwion a hand up.

"What is the time?" Ingwion asked as they made their way back to the vestibule.

"Nearly three hours past sunset," came the reply. "You’ve been here for well over six hours. I have a light repast waiting for you as soon as you finish dressing."

"I’ll never make it to the tryst in time," Ingwion opined, throwing off his tunic and grabbing his leggings and shirt, which, he noticed, were freshly laundered.

"Do not concern yourself with that," Maranwë answered soothingly. "While you were... meditating, Lord Manwë arranged for your horse to be taken to the meeting place. If we leave within the next half hour, you will be there in time."

Ingwion nodded as he buckled his belt around him. "Thank you," he said with all sincerity.

"You are most welcome, child," the Maia replied with a warm smile, handing him his cloak before going to the outer door and opening it. "Come, food first and then we will see you on your way."

Two hours later Ingwion was walking towards a stand of trees a half a league along the road to Valmar to find his three otornor waiting for him. In minutes he was mounted on his horse and then the four of them rode silently into the night.

****

Ingwion iYánassë Elenion: (Quenya): ‘Ingwion in the Chapel of Stars’ [yána: holy place, fane, sanctuary].

Malyant’ antany’ estelessë cuilenya: (Quenya) ‘Into thy (two) hands I give in trust my life’.

The words carved on the door of the Chapel of Stars:

Anairë nén sinallo na envinyanta,/Poic’ ar manwa rosta eleninnar: (Quenya) ‘From this most holy water be renewed,/Pure and ready to ascend unto the stars’. [The attested nouns rosta: ‘ascent’ and orosta: ‘ascension’ presuppose a verb: rosta- ‘to ascend’.]

The phrase is adapted from the last lines of Dante’s Purgatorio (Canto XXXIII), which thus leads the reader into the Paradiso:

     ‘From the most holy water I returned

     Regenerate, in the manner of new trees

     That are renewed with a new foliage

     Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars.’ [Translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow]

The words that flow across the sun disc on the Chapel screen:

iMelmë i rúma Anar ar i-ex’ eleni: (Quenya) ‘The Love which moves the Sun and the other stars.’

This is the final line of Dante’s Paradiso (Canto XXXIII), and is perhaps the most moving definition of God ever proposed. The English translation is by Longfellow.

A note on the Aratar: These are the eight most powerful of the Valar: Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Aulë, Yavanna, Oromë, Nienna and Námo.

Properties of the herbal bath: lavender: antiseptic; linden (flowers): healing; lovage: cleansing and healing.