5: Unrest Revealed

"Ah, Nephew. Just the person I was looking for."

Ingalaurë turned to see his Uncle Ingoldo approaching and became suddenly wary. Ingoldo had very little use for his brother’s children. Indeed, he seemed to have little use for his own son, Intarion, treating the ellon with contempt. Ingalaurë could not understand this, for Intarion was likeable enough and was one of Ingwë’s respected loremasters and councillors.

"And why do you wish to see me, Uncle?" Ingalaurë asked.

"I was curious as to your thoughts about Prince Fëanáro and his trial."

Ingalaurë stared at his uncle in surprise. "Why would you even care what I thought about any of it? Shouldn’t you be asking my atar that question?"

Ingoldo waved away Ingil’s objections. "Eventually, I suppose, but at the moment I am more interested in your opinion."

"I don’t understand...."

"Many people are unhappy with the judgment against Fëanáro," Ingoldo explained.

Ingalaurë’s eyes narrowed. "By ‘many people’ I assume you speak of the Noldor."

"And even some of the Vanyar," his uncle replied and Ingalaurë felt ice flowing through his veins.

"I have heard nothing against the Valar ...."

"Nor have I," Ingoldo hastened to agree, though there was a slyness to his tone that disturbed the younger Vanya. "Yet, it cannot be denied that Fëanáro’s judgment left a bad taste in many people’s mouths. Twelve years’ exile... rather harsh, don’t you think?"

Ingalaurë shrugged, not really caring. "He only brought it upon himself. Frankly, I think he got off rather lightly. And now, if you will excuse me, Uncle, I have somewhere I need to be."

With that he gave Ingoldo a brief bow and then set off, not even giving his uncle time to respond. He came to a juncture in the corridor, meaning to turn right towards his atar’s study where he was expected, but then took the left-hand corridor instead, stopping before a particular door and knocking.

"Enter," came a voice on the other side of the door and Ingalaurë opened it.

"Am I disturbing you, Valandur?"

Valandur Voronwion, husband of Ingalaurë’s cousin Findis and Ingwë’s chief loremaster, looked up from the document he was perusing and smiled, gesturing the younger ellon further in. "Not at all, my prince. What troubles you, for I can see from your expression that you are indeed troubled."

Ingalaurë sat down, taking a moment to observe his cousin’s husband. Valandur had the typical golden hair of the Vanyar, though it was somewhat darker in shade than most. His eyes were a brilliant green and full of wisdom. There was a warmth of acceptance in Valandur’s eyes that always made Ingalaurë feel special, as if he were the most important person to the loremaster at that moment. He also liked that Valandur never hurried him but was always patient with him, letting him take whatever time the ellon needed to formulate his thoughts before speaking.

"I had a very disturbing conversation with my uncle just now," the prince said.

Valandur nodded, his eyes narrowing. "In what way was it disturbing?"

"He wanted my opinion on Prince Fëanáro’s trial and judgment."

Valandur’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Indeed? How interesting." He stared past the younger ellon, his eyes unfocusing slightly in thought. Ingalaurë forbore to speak. Finally, Valandur’s expression became more present and he returned his attention to the prince. "What did you tell him, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Ingalaurë shrugged. "I told him Fëanáro only got what he deserved and that I thought he got off lightly, all things considered."

Valandur’s expression was impassive. "Yet, that question is not what disturbed you, is it?"

Ingalaurë shook his head. "Nay, it surprised me, for I cannot imagine why Uncle Ingoldo even cares what my opinion about any of this would be." He paused for a moment, licking his lips. "It was something else that he said," he continued. "He mentioned that many people, and not just the Noldor, were upset by the judgment and felt it was unfair."

"Ingoldo said exactly that?" Valandur demanded.

The younger ellon blushed and shook his head, suddenly reminded that as a loremaster Valandur was a stickler for exact and precise language. "No, not in so many words, but that was the sense of what he was saying."

The loremaster’s expression remained unreadable to the younger ellon and Ingalaurë tried not to squirm. Valandur had been one of his tutors when he’d been an elfling and he still remembered how rigorous the loremaster had been in his instructions.

"Ingoldo claims that there are Vanyar who disagree with the sentence meted out to Prince Fëanáro?" Valandur finally asked and Ingalaurë nodded. "And that thought is what upsets you, that there are Vanyar who are unhappy with the Valar’s judgment."

Ingalaurë nodded. "The Valar are just and their sentence was not capricious. It could have been worse and they showed mercy when they allowed others to go into exile with Fëanáro and Uncle Finwë."

"That is true," Valandur admitted. "Nothing like this has happened among us since the dawn of our existence. The Valar have shown great restraint in this matter."

"Then, you do not think Atar needs to worry....?"

"Ah," Valandur said with a shrewd smile, now divining the ellon’s concerns more clearly. "You wonder if the High King should know about this but you are afraid to be the one to tell him."

Ingalaurë sighed, looking chagrined. "I am not a speaker of gossip and I have no real proof of what I have told you. I do not wish to be thought untrustworthy if what Uncle Ingoldo told me is not in fact true."

"No one would think that of you, Ingil," Valandur said gently, speaking more familiarly to the younger Elf. "Your atar respects you too much to dismiss whatever you might tell him, but if you wish, I will investigate this further and give Ingwë my own report. It is, after all, my job." He gave the prince a wink and Ingalaurë smiled. "And I will keep your name out of it."

The younger ellon sighed in relief, glad that Valandur understood. "Thank you," he said as he rose.

Valandur stood as well and put a comforting hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "You are most welcome, youngling. I am grateful that you came to me with your concerns. Trust that I will hold your confidence and take all that you have said seriously."

"My atar is fortunate to have you as his loremaster," Ingalaurë said somewhat shyly.

"Nay, I am the fortunate one," Valandur said with a laugh.

When Ingalaurë left, Valandur resumed his seat and for the longest time stared out the window at nothing in particular, thinking deeply of all that the young prince had told him. Finally, he pulled a piece of parchment to him and, after sharpening his quill, he began to take down notes.

****

Ingwë looked up at the knock on the door of his study which was open and smiled at his second-born son. "You’re late," he said, though he did not appear too upset about it.

"Forgive me, Atar," Ingalaurë said, giving the High King his obeisance. "I was unavoidably delayed."

"No matter, no matter. Come, sit. Your brother should be here soon."

"I was surprised not to see him here already." Ingwion was notorious for always being on time while his twin was more lax about such things.

Ingwë laughed. "In this case, Ingwion has a good excuse."

"Oh?"

"He’s with your ammë. She needed him to help with the latest inventory of household goods."

Ingalaurë nodded. Elindis was rather shy and retiring but she ran the royal household with great verve and no one was foolish enough to ignore her wishes when she wanted a thing done, at least not after the first time. Her children had learned early on that their amillë came first in their lives and could deny her nothing. "I wish I had Ingwion’s head for numbers, else I would willingly help...."

"You have other talents no less important than those of your brother," Ingwë assured him with a smile.

"And perhaps someday I’ll even learn what those talents are," Ingalaurë muttered bitterly.

Ingwë’s expression became sad. "Child, you underrate yourself. You have many talents. You are well versed in the lore of our people, more so than Ingwion, and your poetry is second to none. Lord Manwë was especially pleased with your latest endeavor."

Ingalaurë gave his atar a surprised look. "He was? But, I never got a chance to recite it. Ingwion took up all the audience time last Valanya with his flute concerto."

"I gave the Elder King a copy of the poem before we left. He sent this by way of reply." Ingwë handed his son a piece of parchment sealed with the Elder King’s sigil of an eagle in flight.

Ingalaurë broke open the seal with hands that were shaking, but whether with fear or excitement, he could not say. He read the words written on the parchment and felt a smile cross his face. He feared he would not be able to stop grinning for some time. He looked up at his atar and silently handed him the missive. Ingwë read the words aloud:

"‘Unto Ingalaurë Ingaranion from Manwë, Elder King of Arda: It was with great pleasure that We received a copy of thy latest poem from thine atar. We found thine use of language sublime and subtle well beyond thy young years. Thou hast a true gift with words, my son, and We are well pleased with thee. Next Valanya We would be honored to hear thee recite this poem to Us and any others thou wishest to share with Us.’"

Ingwë looked up and gave his son a warm smile. "So thou seest, child," he said, using more formal language that nonetheless held great familiarity in its tone, "the Elder King himself recognizeth thy worth and rejoiceth in it. Do not disparage thyself nor compare thyself with thy brother. Thou’rt not him and he is not thee. Thine ammë and I are well pleased with thee and all that thou doest. Never doubt that, or our love for thee."

"Thank you, Atto," Ingalaurë said softly, now suddenly embarrassed.

Ingwë stood and pulled his son into his embrace, giving him a light kiss on the forehead. "You are most welcome, hinya. Ah, I believe Ingwion is here."

Ingalaurë turned to see his twin striding into the room, giving them both a cheery grin. "Have I missed anything?"

"Nay," Ingwë said with a warm smile for his first-born. "Your brother and I were just discussing something private between us." He gave Ingalaurë another hug and then reached over and took the Elder King’s missive, handing it to him. Ingalaurë gave him a shy grin and tucked the parchment inside his tunic. "So now that you are both here, there is something I wish to discuss."

Ingwë gestured for his sons to sit and once they were all settled the two ellyn gave their atar their undivided attention. Ingwë gave them both a fond smile. "Your Uncle Finwë’s departure from Tirion has left a vacuum in the political situation among the Noldor," he said without preamble. The twins glanced at each other, frowning.

"I thought Cousin Ñolofinwë was the regent," Ingwion said, looking confused.

"And so he is," Ingwë acknowledged, "but your cousin has had no real training in ruling and Indis does not feel up to the task of helping him, so I have decided to go to Tirion to offer my assistance."

That startled the two ellyn and they both sat up straighter. "But... why?" was all Ingwion could ask and Ingalaurë felt just as confused by their atar’s words.

"I am, after all, the High King, yonyar," Ingwë said with a knowing smile. "As such it is my duty to see that your cousin receives the proper training to be an effective ruler. Your ammë will be coming with me, as she misses Indis and I’m sure the two will have much to discuss. In the meantime, I am leaving you two in charge of things here."

"You’re what!?" Ingwion stood in shock and Ingalaurë felt the blood drain from his face. How could Atar leave them with the governing of the Vanyar, he wondered. It made no sense.

Ingwë motioned for Ingwion to take his seat, which the elder twin did with some reluctance. He gave them both a sympathetic smile. "I do not make this decision lightly. I think it is time that you both have some experience in this regard. And it will not be for very long, perhaps no more than a few handful of weeks." His expression became more solemn as he continued speaking. "The Noldor have been bereft of their proper king with Finwë sharing his son’s exile. There is great unrest and strife among them because of all this and Ñolofinwë is going to have his hands full trying to bring some semblance of peace among his people. He needs my help and I need your help."

"Will not Uncle Ingoldo resent you leaving the governing of the Vanyar to us, though?" Ingalaurë ventured. He was reminded of his earlier conversation with his uncle and wondered if he should mention it now, but decided that it would be best to leave it in Valandur’s capable hands.

"You are my sons and my heirs," Ingwë said, "and as High King I have the right to appoint whomever I wish as regent. That I am making you two joint-regents will show our people that I make no distinction between you. You are both my heirs and Ingoldo will just have to accept that."

"I’m not sure we’re ready for this, though, Atto," Ingwion said with a frown, feeling suddenly young for all that he was older than Fëanáro.

Ingwë smiled. "You are more ready than your poor cousin, I assure you. You have both been well trained by the best loremasters of Eldamar. I have every confidence that when I return Vanyamar will still be standing." The drollness of his words set the twins laughing.

"And speaking of loremasters," Ingwë continued, "I do not intend to leave you without capable support. I am appointing Valandur and Findis as, shall we say, your personal councillors. If you have any questions or concerns while I am away, you may go to them. They will advise you but they will not dictate to you. Any decisions you make will be your own."

"But surely you don’t expect us to promulgate laws or pass judgments?" Ingwion asked in surprise.

Ingwë shook his head. "I will not be gone long enough for you to get into that sort of mischief. You will be required to sit in judgment during open court. You both have already done so to a lesser degree. Now it is time for you to go the extra step. Valandur and Findis will be there to help you and I will uphold any judgment you make, though I reserve the right to review any judgments and overrule you should I deem it necessary."

The twins nodded, both feeling somewhat relieved though they still had lingering doubts. Ingwë stood and gathered them both into his embrace, hugging them fiercely. "You are my sons and I am very proud of you both," he whispered to them.

"We just don’t want to... disappoint you, Atto," Ingalaurë said just as softly, speaking for them both.

Ingwë kissed his youngest son on the brow and then did the same to Ingwion. "You can never disappoint me, either of you."

"What about Indil? Won’t she be unhappy to be left out of all this?" Ingwion asked, his expression somewhat sly.

Ingwë smiled. "Your sister is too besotted with Tamurilon to want to bother." The twins laughed at that, knowing the truth of their atar’s words. "I just wish they would make up their minds and announce their betrothal," Ingwë sighed somewhat dramatically, much to his sons’ amusement. "Your ammë is getting anxious."

Both twins laughed again and then the three of them left the study in search of the other members of their family to further discuss the logistics of having co-regents while the High King and his Queen were absent.

****

Yonyar: Plural of yonya: My son.