30: By the Shore of an Endless Sea Once More

Ingwion stood before the portal leading into Lady Nienna’s cloister and sighed. He was still feeling ambivalent about the whole thing. Back at Vorondil’s trial he had felt a sense of rightness in deciding to return to this place. Now, though....

“The day isn’t getting any younger, Ingwion,” Nienna said as she came through the arcade to greet him. “Do you intend on growing roots and staying there for the rest of the ages of Arda or would you like to come in and have some supper?”

Ingwion couldn’t help smiling at the Valië’s mock acerbic tone and gave her a brief bow. “I think supper would be better than standing out here all night.”

Nienna almost smiled. “Good. Take your things to your room and freshen up. We’ll be dining alone.”

Ingwion raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What about Aldundil and Vorondil?”

“Ah...” Nienna’s expression could only be called gleeful, which, to Ingwion’s mind, did not bode well for anyone. “Well, they’re... um... busy at the moment, but fear not! They will eat in the kitchen later. Marilliën has grown rather fond of them both ever since they tried to sneak some sweets from under her nose.”

Ingwion nodded, though his expression was somewhat dubious. “They’re all right, though, aren’t they?” he asked.

Nienna gave him a surprised look which transmuted into one of compassion. “Why bless you, Ingwion! They’re just fine. You’ll be seeing them in the morning, I promise.”

The prince of the Vanyar nodded, mollified by the Lady’s words. “Well, let me rid myself of the dust of the road and I will be happy to join you for the evening meal.”

****

Early the next morning found Ingwion strolling along the beach below Nienna’s house. The tide was in and the breakers racing onto the shore were high. Somewhere out in the middle of the Ekkaia, Ingwion suspected, a storm was brewing, for the sky was purple-grey to the west and the sun was barely breaking through the heavy cloud cover to the east. He pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders, wondering why he was on the beach at such an early hour. He stood there, watching the waves crash upon the black-sand strand and sighed.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ingwion turned to see Tiutalion standing beside him, staring out into the ocean. If the Maia felt the cold he did not show it. When Ingwion did not answer immediately, Nienna’s Chief Maia turned his hazel eyes upon him and gave him a quizzical look. “What’s the matter, Ingwion?”

The ellon shrugged, turning his attention back to the waves racing each other onto the beach. “I... I had an experience not long ago. I still do not know if it was real or just a dream or vision. Nor do I totally understand its import or why I even had the experience in the first place.”

“Where did this... experience take place?” the Maia asked.

“The Chapel of Stars.”

“Ah....” Tiutalion nodded.

Ingwion looked at him. “So all you have to say is ‘ah’?”

Tiutalion stared at him for a moment before answering. “Do you know for whom the Chapel of Stars was built, or no.... do you know by whom it was built?”

Ingwion shook his head. “No to both questions, but I just assumed that the Maiar built it.”

“And you would assume wrong,” the Maia said. “While we Maiar had a hand in building much of Ilmarin, that Chapel was not of our making.”

“Who built it then?” Ingwion asked. “The Valar?”

Tiutalion smiled. “Close. Vala. Lord Manwë to be exact.”

Ingwion could feel his eyebrows leaving his forehead in shock. “Th-the Elder King?” he fairly squeaked. “B-but he... I mean... Lord Aulë I can see... but...the Elder King?” was all he could think to say.

Tiutalion laughed. “Child, the Elder King was the chief Singer of the Ainulindalë that brought all of Eä into existence. He is the most powerful of all of us who once dwelt in the Timeless Halls. Any one of the Valar has the power to call forth whatsoever they might wish. Lord Manwë brought the Chapel of Stars into existence and Ilúvatar hallowed it.”

Ingwion pondered the Maia’s words for a moment. “So for whom was the Chapel built then? The Valar?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think, Tiutalion,” Ingwion confessed, shaking his head. “If the Chapel was built for the use of the Valar, why did they send me there?”

“Because the Chapel was not built for the Valar, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Now you’re not making any sense!” Ingwion protested. “It had to be built for someone, or why have it?”

“And normally you would be correct,” Tiutalion said, “for generally one builds something for a reason. But consider... perhaps the Chapel of Stars was not built for anyone but rather because it was needful for it to exist.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You were sent to the Chapel not because it was built with you or anyone else in mind but because you needed to be there at that particular time to have that particular experience. Did you know that none of us actually know where in Ilmarin that Chapel is located?”

Ingwion gave him a puzzled look and Tiutalion nodded. “Only those Maiar who are instructed to take someone there know its location, yet, if they have not been specifically ordered to escort someone to the Chapel, try as they might, they cannot find it again, no matter how many times they may have acted as an escort in the past.”

“That really makes no sense,” Ingwion protested. “How can they not know where the chamber is? It can’t be moved, can it?”

Tiutalion shrugged. “One would think not, but remember we are talking of something constructed by Lord Manwë himself. I would not presume to know what powers he may or may not have. In your case, the Valar, and specifically Lord Manwë, decided that a visit to the Chapel was in your best interest.” He paused and gave Ingwion a discerning look. “It was, wasn’t it?”

Ingwion nodded. “It was the most fantastic, incredible experience I’ve ever had,” he said with unalloyed joy. “I will never forget it.”

“Then that is well,” the Maia said. “In all the ages since Valinor was founded, you are perhaps only the second elf to be allowed in the Chapel.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Ingwion couldn’t help asking, wondering who might have been the first.

Tiutalion laughed, giving him a brief hug. “It is a very good thing, young prince, a very good thing indeed. Now, enough of this. Breakfast is waiting. It’s why I came in the first place until you sidetracked me.”

Ingwion grinned. “I have the feeling that you Maiar are sidetracked only when you want to be.”

“True, true,” the Maia said, then gave Ingwion a conspiratorial wink, lowering his voice somewhat. “But that information is not for general consumption.”

Ingwion spread his arms out wide. “Do you see anyone else around here? Who am I going to tell?”

Tiutalion just laughed as the two of them made their way across the sand to the stairs.

****

“Ingwion!” Vorondil shouted in greeting as the prince entered the dining hall, nearly bowling him over in his enthusiasm to give the Vanya a hug.

“Whoa, youngling!” Ingwion said with a laugh, returning the hug, though with slightly less enthusiasm.

“Vorondil!” Aldundil admonished with a frown, “that is not how one greets Prince Ingwion.”

“Please, Aldundil,” Ingwion protested, giving a crestfallen Vorondil a warm smile. “Here, I am only Ingwion. There is no need for any formality with me. I am as much Lady Nienna’s .... guest as you are.”

“You mean ‘prisoner’,” Vorondil muttered, casting a dark look at the Valië sitting serenely at the table.

Ingwion gave the ellon a shake. “Now, Vorondil, that’s not true. Lady Nienna is not our gaoler, though just what she is escapes me.” He gave Nienna a wry grin and a wink.

“Hrmph,” Nienna said in reply. “No, I am not your gaoler. Let us say that I’m your... counsellor and leave it at that, shall we? Now, come sit and have your breakfast before it gets cold and Marilliën reprimands me.”

The idea of the Maia cook reprimanding her mistress was too alien for the elves to imagine but they dutifully sat and began eating. For some time there was no conversation but eventually they all had their fill and pushed their plates away, sighing in contentment. Nienna watched them with some satisfaction.

“I have a surprise for you all,” she said. Vorondil looked wary while his atar simply looked resigned. Ingwion wondered at both expressions, his own being one of curiosity more than anything. Nienna merely nodded. “Now that Ingwion is here I thought you would all enjoy getting away for a while.”

“Getting away?” Ingwion asked in confusion. “But I just got here and I don’t think these two have been here that long, have they?”

“Feels like forever,” Vorondil muttered.

Nienna chuckled. “You have yet to experience ‘forever’, child.” She turned to Ingwion. “I know you just arrived but I’ve been waiting for you to come so the three of you could go camping together. I know Vorondil enjoys it.” She smiled fondly at the younger ellon whose demeanor actually brightened.

“I love camping,” he exclaimed, “except when it’s raining. Laurendil likes it when it’s raining but I don’t.”

“Well I cannot promise you it won’t rain,” Nienna told him, “but I think you and your atar and Ingwion will enjoy yourselves nonetheless.”

“Where will we camp?” Aldundil asked, and Ingwion noticed that he still had a resigned look.

Nienna also noticed and leaned forward, her expression more compassionate. “Aldundil, I am not going to force you to go camping. If you would rather stay here I understand. I’m sure Ingwion and Vorondil will enjoy themselves even if you are not there.”

Vorondil gave his atar a quizzical look. “Don’t you want to go camping, Atto?”

Aldundil sighed, now looking more distressed than anything. “It’s just that the... the last time I camped was... was during the War of Wrath.”

“Ah....” was Nienna’s only reply though of course she had been well aware of the reason for Aldundil’s reluctance.

Ingwion stared at the ellon, taking in the warrior braids that Finrod had forced him to wear and remembering what had been revealed at the trial and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I understand, meldonya.”

“Well, I don’t,” protested Vorondil with a glare at them all.

Aldundil turned to his son, his expression more sad than anything. “The night before your... your uncle died,” he said softly, “was the last night I camped with him. It was the last night I camped at all, for my injuries were such that I was sent to one of the havens where refugees and the wounded were being gathered. I spent the remainder of the war in an infirmary. I do not think I can face going camping again.”

Vorondil stared at his atar in dismay, not sure how to respond. Nienna saved him the trouble. “I understand your reluctance, Aldundil, but I think you would benefit from this little excursion. I think you and Vorondil both would.”

“And me?” Ingwion asked in amusement. “What do I get out of it?”

Nienna raised an eyebrow. “That depends on what you put into it.”

Before he could offer a protest, the Valië stood, giving them all a measuring look. “Tiutalion will see that you are all properly equipped and will give you a map for you to follow. The place where you will camp is not far from here, but just far enough.”

“How long will we be camping?” Vorondil asked excitedly.

Nienna smiled fondly at the ellon. “I’ll let you know. Off you go now.” She made shooing motions with her hands and after giving her their obeisance, they left.

*****

The place where they were to camp was indeed not far, but certainly far enough to offer them the illusion that they were no longer under the shadow of the Valië’s presence. The map showed them the coastline to the south and after about a two-hour walk along the headlands overlooking the ocean they found themselves in a quiet tree-shrouded dell where a spring bubbled merrily.

“I guess this is it,” Ingwion said as he dumped his rucksack onto the ground and looked around.

“Looks like it,” Aldundil replied with little enthusiasm.

Vorondil, on the other hand, was fairly leaping around, admiring the trees (beeches and lindens) and the spring, testing its coldness with a forefinger before leaping away to watch a pair of redwings building a nest.

“Vorondil,” Ingwion ordered with a smile, “come and help set up the tent while your atar builds the fire pit.”

Vorondil came willingly enough, eager to be of help and soon the camp was put into order to their satisfaction. They were sitting around the fire in companionable silence, or at least Aldundil and Ingwion were. The prince, in fact, was perusing the map Tiutalion had given them while Aldundil was staring into the fire, lost in his own thoughts. Vorondil, on the other hand, was fidgeting and trying not to.

“So what do we do now?” he asked, attempting to act nonchalant and failing miserably.

Ingwion and Aldundil glanced at one another and shared amused smiles. “Well, I was looking at the map,” Ingwion said, “and I noticed that there are several trails clearly marked. Perhaps we should explore them.”

“Do they lead anywhere interesting?” Vorondil asked.

Ingwion shook his head. “The map doesn’t show. It only shows where a trail begins near here and what its direction is.”

“Which trail should we take then?” Vorondil insisted as he leaned over Ingwion’s shoulder for a better look.

“Why don’t you choose one?” Aldundil suggested suddenly.

“Me!?” Vorondil exclaimed.

Both Ingwion and Aldundil nodded. “Perhaps we can take turns choosing a different trail each day,” Ingwion suggested and the others nodded their approval. The prince handed the map to Vorondil and the ellon spent the better part of the rest of the afternoon until dinner poring over the map and trying to decide which of the marks on it looked the most interesting.

****

Námo came to Nienna’s later that evening. “So where did you send them?” he asked his sister as they sat alone in the cloister watching the night sky blossom with stars.

“To a dell from which they should find the Fana Nírion easily enough.”

Námo raised an eyebrow. “You sent them there? Why?”

“I have my reasons, brother,” was all she said and Námo knew enough not to press. Each of the Valar had their own demesne and within it their will was law which the other Valar respected.

“I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing,” he finally said. Nienna only nodded. “Glorfindel wants to speak to Ingwion,” he said after a moment.

“Is that wise?” she asked. “We’ve been trying to keep those two separated. When Glorfindel decided at the last minute to go to Lórien....” She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Námo grinned at his sister’s antics. “But I have the feeling that our attempts to keep them apart may be... wrong.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know for sure. They both had an experience of meeting Atar. It cannot be a coincidence.”

Nienna nodded. “No. There is no coincidence involved here.” She sat for a time in deep contemplation. “I hesitate to allow that impossible child anywhere near my demesne,” she finally said.

“Would you consent to allowing Ingwion to meet with Glorfindel?”

“Let him return to Lórien you mean?”

Námo nodded.

Nienna frowned, thinking, and then she shook her head. “Too risky. I cannot spare Ingwion, you know that. He is too important at this point in Aldundil and Vorondil’s recovery and rehabilitation. To send him away now....”

“Glorfindel is not going to accept your answer,” Námo said with certainty, “and, unless I miss my guess, neither will Atar.”

Nienna simply sighed, not at all pleased by any of it.