56: Fëanáro’s Return

The ride to Tirion had been an eerie one for them all, especially Ingwion. They rode until the horses and they tired and then set up camp. It was the only way Ingwion could tell the time, marking each ‘day’ by the number of times they stopped for a complete rest. During that time, Ingwë began instructing his son on how to tell time by the motion of the stars. It was not easy and Ingwion was too heart-weary at the oppressive darkness that weighed on his soul to bother learning as well as he could have. Thus, it was sometime after their third camp that they came upon Tirion and saw fog drifting up from the ravine of the Calacirya, enshrouding the hill of Túna and mantling the city’s towers. The lamp of the Mindon burned dimly in the gloom. Ingwion stared at the spectral sight in horror.

"What is that that covers the city, Atto?" he asked with trepidation, wondering if this was some new evil visited upon them by Melkor.

"You have never seen fog before, have you, my son?" Ingwë answered sympathetically and Ingwion shook his head. "It is naught to fear. It is merely clouds come to earth. I suspect that they arose from the sea. You will have noticed that since the Light of the Trees has died the air is cooler."

Ingwion nodded. "I had noticed it."

"As the air has cooled the fogs have risen," Ingwë explained. "Perhaps Lord Manwë will cause them to be shifted back towards the sea when he and the other Valar are less busy." This last was said in a droll manner and Ingwion could not help grinning in spite of the heaviness in his heart.

"Do you seriously think we can convince Fëanáro to return to Formenos?" he asked as they made their way through the western gate and towards the palace. He squinted into the thick soupy fog that blanketed the street and was grateful that the captain of the gate guards had provided them with an escort, their torches augmenting the meager light of the torches carried by their own guards.

"It remains to be seen," Ingwë said. "Finwë, for all his faults, never questioned my authority as High King, but Fëanáro is not Finwë and I fear he will defy me as he has defied the Valar. It may be though that I can convince his followers to turn from whatever madness Fëanáro is planning."

Ingwion gave his atar a surprised look. "What mean you? He comes to take the crown, does he not?"

Ingwë shook his head. "Perhaps, but my heart tells me that more is going on than we know. Fëanáro will be hot for vengeance against Melkor for what was done to him and I do not mean just the death of his atar."

"You mean the theft of the Silmarils," Ingwion said and Ingwë nodded.

Nothing else was said then for they had reached the palace and the two younger sons of Finwë were there to greet them, having been alerted by a runner. Ingwë saw the sons of his sister standing there and grieved anew for them both. Their expressions were haunted and careworn, Ñolofinwë’s especially. There was no joyous greeting between them. Instead, Ingwë took them into his embrace and held them for a long moment before releasing them. "I have news," he said quietly to Ñolofinwë. "Call the family together, for it concerns them as well as you."

Ñolofinwë nodded. "Arafinwë will show you to your suite, Uncle, while I gather everyone together. We will meet at your convenience in the family dining room."

"Ingwion and I will be there after we’ve washed the dust of travel from us." Ingwë said and then he gave them a rueful look. "I fear in our haste we did not stop to pack."

The two brothers gave him faint smiles at his attempt at levity. “Don’t worry, Uncle,” Arafinwë said. “I will see that you and Ingwion are supplied with everything you need for your comfort."

With that, Ingwë and Ingwion followed Arafinwë towards the north wing while Ñolofinwë began issuing orders to pages to find various members of the royal family.

****

Ingwion decided that life without the Trees was going to be rather inconvenient. He had no idea how much time had truly passed since their deaths and trying to gauge when a certain hour had come and gone was nigh impossible. When he mentioned it to his atar, Arafinwë, who was still with them seeing that they had everything they needed, spoke.

"We have our water clock that Fëanáro invented," he told them. "It was set to coincide with the waxing and waning of the Trees. It is now the second hour after First Mingling."

"We will have to have one made for ourselves," Ingwë said. "I always thought it was a useless toy since the Light of the Trees told us the time, but I am grateful for Fëanáro’s foresight in this instance."

"But we can’t all have a water clock," Ingwion pointed out. "It’s much too large and cumbersome."

Arafinwë nodded. "Our candlemakers have been experimenting with measuring the melt rate of the wax against the clock. They are trying to determine how to make the wax melt at a pace consonant with the clock so that we can mark the candles in such a way that we know how much time has passed."

"That would certainly be useful and more convenient," Ingwë said. "I think, once a water clock has been set up in Vanyamar, I will have a certain bell rung at the start of each hour, the number of peals coinciding with the number of hours. That way people throughout the city will be able to gauge the time more correctly."

"We had thought of that as well," Arafinwë said. "My brother has commissioned the bellmakers to construct a particular bell with a singular tone that will be recognized throughout the city. He wants to have a special tower built for it and move the water clock into the tower. There would be a cadre of bellringers who would sound the hours throughout the day."

"I will have to do something similar then," Ingwë said. "In the meantime, let us go and speak with the family. I have much news to impart."

****

The family was gathered in the dining hall, silent and waiting. Servants were bustling about, placing a cold collation of fruit and cheese and new bread as well as some yellow wine on the tables before retiring. Ingwion saw Findaráto sitting with Amarië by his side, surprised to see her there, for he had assumed she had returned to Vanyamar with her parents. Findaráto’s brothers and sister were seated at the same table and when Ingwë gave a nod to his enquiring look, Ingwion went to sit with them. Findaráto smiled as he approached and with a quiet word he ordered Aicanáro to give his seat to their Vanyarin cousin. He did so, though reluctantly, Ingwion noted. The Vanyarin prince smiled at the younger ellon as he took his seat, giving him a soft word of thanks. Aicanáro seemed mollified and went to sit opposite Artanis. Meanwhile, Arafinwë and Ingwë made their way to the high table where Ñolofinwë awaited them along with his wife, Anairë, and Arafinwë’s wife, Eärwen. Nerdanel, he knew, had returned to her atar’s home. Only his sister, Indis, was not present.

"She has secluded herself since hearing the news about Atto," Ñolofinwë explained when Ingwë enquired.

Ingwë sighed as he took the seat proffered him. "I will speak with her privately later," he said, then looked over the high table to where the younger members of the family were situated among the tables below the dais. He noted their haunted looks, though little Itarildë seemed unaffected by the grief her parents were experiencing, happily playing with a doll, quietly rocking it to sleep with a softly sung lullaby.

"The Valar are even now planning how to bring light back to Aman," he said without preamble. "Indeed, from what I gather, they hope to bring light to all of Arda so that even the Outer Lands will no longer be lit by starlight only."

"That is good news," Ñolofinwë said with obvious relief. "Did they think the Trees could be saved after all?"

Ingwë shook his head. "I do not know, hinya," he said. "I only know that they are looking into it. But that is not the only news that I came to give you. It seems that Fëanáro has defied the Valar’s authority and is even now leading those from Formenos here. I have no doubt he plans to claim the crown."

"And welcome he is to it," Ñolofinwë said with a sigh of relief. "I never wanted this."

"Hanno," Arafinwë said to him, "if he is in defiance of the Valar...."

"It matters not," Ñolofinwë exclaimed. "He is the Noldóran by right of succession whether we wish it to be so or not. I will not stand in his way. Indeed, I cannot for my oath before the Valar forbids it. I meant what I said, he shall lead and I will follow, as it was always meant to be."

"I wish you had never given that oath, hinya," Ingwë said with a heavy sigh. "I fear we will all regret it in days to come."

"Perhaps, Uncle," Ñolofinwë replied, "but there is naught that can be done about it now. My oath I have given and I will not renege on it."

"I would not want you to," Ingwë said. "Still, I think Fëanáro is up to something besides just claiming the crown."

"Do you have any idea what that might be?" Anairë asked.

"He was probably as much upset at the theft of the Silmarils as he was by the news of Finwë’s death," Ingwë answered. "I have no doubt that he will burn with the desire to follow after Melkor and seek to reclaim what was stolen from him."

"Stolen from him?" Arafinwë snorted in disgust. "What about what was stolen from us? Yet, what can any of us do against a Vala, even one so craven and debased as that one? To seek vengeance upon him is madness and will only lead to ruin, I deem."

"You may be correct, hinya," Ingwë averred. "We will have to wait and see what Fëanáro says when he comes."

"I am surprised the Valar did not simply prevent him from leaving Formenos, or barring that, make him return forthwith," Findaráto spoke up just then and there were murmurs of agreement among the rest.

"They had their reasons, Findaráto," Ingwë answered, "the primary reason being that they do not wish to have the accusation that we are but their thralls thrown back into their faces. That accusation hurt them more than anything. They are, quite frankly, appalled that any of us would ever think such a thing and see the hand of Melkor behind it. Fëanáro, I know, never trusted that particular Vala and refused him admittance into his councils, but even so, it is obvious that he has accepted Melkor’s lies for himself whether he acknowledges their source or not. That is the true tragedy in all this: Fëanáro accepting, even in part, the lies of Melkor concerning the Valar."

There was silence among them for a time as they all digested Ingwë’s words. Then, Ñolofinwë gave a great sigh. "Well, I think we should make preparations for our brother’s return," he said, turning to Arafinwë. "We wouldn’t want him to think we didn’t welcome him, would we?"

Arafinwë snorted. "I’ll see that his apartments and those of his sons are aired out in the meantime while you see to everything else," he said and Ñolofinwë nodded.

"And I will go speak with my sister," Ingwë said with a sad look on his face as he rose and the others followed. Findaráto invited Ingwion to accompany him and he agreed as everyone filed out of the chamber and went their separate ways.

****

Ingwë waited at the door of Indis’ suite while one of her maids sought her out. He was not sure if she would even see him but a few minutes later the door opened and Indis stood there, looking wan and... faded to Ingwë’s discerning eyes and dressed all in grey, a color that clearly did not suit her. She said nothing, only stepping back to allow him to enter the sitting room of her suite, then closing the door behind him. He turned to look at her and would have taken her into his embrace but she stepped back.

"Why are you here, Brother?" she asked in a toneless voice.

"Do you mean, why am I here in Tirion or....?"

"You know precisely what I mean!" exclaimed the elleth, color rising in her cheeks, her eyes sparking with anger.

"I am not here to gloat, Indis, if that’s what you mean," Ingwë said. "Finwë was my friend and boon companion. I loved him as my brother. I’ve missed him these last five years while he remained in self-imposed exile, yet I knew eventually he would return to us. But now, that is not true and I may never see him again until the Remaking."

"He was a fool!" Indis declared angrily, moving into the middle of the room clutching her hands by her side.

"Yes, he was," Ingwë replied calmly. "Yet you love him, or you once did."

She turned to face him, the fire in her eyes dying. "I still love him," she admitted, "though the Valar know he gave me plenty of cause to hate him."

"I’m sorry," Ingwë said, stepping to her side and this time she did not shrink from him when he gently placed an arm around her shoulders and planted a brotherly kiss on her brow. "I was never sanguine about the marriage. I truly thought Finwë should not have sought permission of the Valar to woo you, but I knew how much you truly loved him and I could not bear to see you unhappy."

"We were happy at first," Indis said softly, "especially when I gave him Findis and then when Ñolofinwë came he was beside himself with joy." She paused, giving him a rueful look. "I know he loved his other children but I fear Fëanáro poisoned him with his own hatred towards them and nothing I did or said seemed to counter that."

"I am sorry, truly," Ingwë repeated. "Finwë loved Míriel too much, I think, to ever let her go. I fear you were merely a means to an end for him. His jealousy of me and Olwë because we both had sired other children drove him towards seeking a new wife."

"Perhaps," Indis said as she moved out of his embrace and went to a sideboard to pour some wine for them. "There is naught that can be done to change what happened and now he, too, is dead." She gave him a contemplative look as she handed him a goblet. "I wonder if he and Míriel...." She did not finish the thought, blushing slightly as she took a sip of wine, refusing to look at him.

Ingwë shrugged. "As to that, I have no way of knowing, nor do I feel an urgent need to ask Lord Námo about it."

The drollness of his tone brought an involuntary snort of laughter from her which she tried vainly to stifle. Ingwë gave her a wry smile and she had to turn away for a moment to compose herself. When she turned back she was more solemn and the sadness was back in her eyes. "I was not kind to him, there at the end, when he deserted me for his first-born," she said with a sigh. "We did not part on the best of terms and now...."

"I know," Ingwë said with a sigh of his own. "When last I spoke with him I am afraid I was less than sympathetic myself. Well, it’s done and as you said, there is naught any of us can do to change what has happened. He died well, defending his people, giving them time to escape. In the end, whatever his faults, Finwë died as Noldóran and we must strive to remember that."

Indis nodded. "Yes, for all our sakes, we must remember him as the good king that he was to his people even if he was less than sterling as an atar to our children and as a husband to me."

"What will you do now?" Ingwë asked.

Indis shrugged. "Fëanáro is now Noldóran," she answered with a slight grimace of distaste. "I do not think I will be welcomed here much longer once he claims the crown."

"He has defied the Valar and is even now making his way here to do just that," Ingwë said. Indis gave him a look of surprise and he nodded grimly. "It is why I am here. The Valar will not stop him for reasons of their own but they sent me here to persuade him from his course. They have not lifted the ban of his exile, you see."

Indis nodded. "Yes, I do. I also think that you are wasting your time, hanno. Fëanáro will not listen to you, be you High King or no."

"Yet, I needs must try, for all our sakes," Ingwë answered. "Also, I had in mind to travel to Alqualondë to speak with Olwë. He must wonder what has happened."

Indis shook her head. "He already knows. Did not my sons tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Olwë met us on our way back to Tirion," she told him. "He was on his way to Valmar to find out what had happened to the Trees. He returned here with us, stayed for a short time and then left for Alqualondë. Since Ñolofinwë filled him in on all that occurred, he felt no need to complete his journey and decided to return home."

Ingwë furrowed his brow in thought. "I wish I’d known earlier. Well, at any rate, I will deal with Olwë later. You still haven’t answered my question as to what you plan to do now."

"I will not stay here," Indis replied firmly. "Fëanáro will not appreciate my presence though he must tolerate my sons and Finwaina."

"Come home with me, then," Ingwë suggested. "Come back to your own family. I know Findis would love to have you all to herself for a change." He cast her a sly look and she smiled.

"Perhaps I will," she said, "though I cannot guarantee that I will remain there for long. I have a mind to retire to Lórien. I think I need to spend some time in contemplation and find peace within myself again."

"If that is what you wish then I will not stop you, but I would love to have you in Vanyamar, if only for a while. I know Elindis will welcome you."

"And Ingoldo?" Indis enquired softly.

"You know him as well as I, Indis," Ingwë said, "but as much of a thorn as he is to me, I think he genuinely loves you and will be glad to see you."

"You are probably correct," she replied. "Very well. I will start making arrangements to have my household removed to Vanyamar. It will take a little time and I must explain my decision to my sons and Finwaina. I don’t think they will be happy with it."

"Probably not, but they will accept it in time," Ingwë offered. He put his goblet down and took Indis into his embrace and held her close. "I truly am sorry for all that has happened," he whispered into her ear, giving her a kiss on her cheek. "I want you to know that I love you and I will do all in my power to help you. You just have to ask."

"Thank you," Indis said softly.

Then he let her go and gave her a short bow. "Then I will leave you. May Ingwion come and visit? He is here with me."

"Of course," she answered with a smile. "I would welcome my nephew’s presence. He may come and sup with me if he wishes."

"I will tell him so," Ingwë said and then left, gently closing the door behind him.

****

By the water clock, two days of the Trees passed before Fëanáro was sighted, leading the Noldor with his sons behind him. The captain of the gate guards sent word to Ñolofinwë. He and the other members of the royal family, along with Ingwë and Ingwion, gathered before the gate to meet him. Ñolofinwë held the rod of office his atar had given him as token of his regency. Fëanáro halted several feet before the gate when he saw them waiting for him. Sea mist, cold and clammy, wreathed them, making them seem like ghosts with only the light of torches to illuminate the scene, for the fog had blocked out the stars. Fëanáro gave them a sardonic smile.

"Well, well. Are you here to welcome me or to bar me from the city?" he said.

"Thou’rt in defiance of the Valar, Fëanáro," Ingwë said imperiously before anyone else could speak. "They have not lifted the ban against thee. Returnest thou to Formenos ere you incur their wrath."

Fëanáro glared at the High King. "What can the Valar do to me that has not already been done?" he snarled.

"They barred thee from Valmar, did they not?" Ingwë replied softly. "They forced thee to turn aside from thy chosen path and trudge through wilderness did they not? Be grateful that is all they did, child. As thy liege, I tell thee to turn back and accept the judgment of the Valar."

For a moment Fëanáro’s expression became uncertain, but then he shook his head. "I care not. I have come to claim the crown of the Noldor as is my right. Will you gainsay me?"

"If I must," Ingwë started to say but Ñolofinwë stepped forward at the same moment, thrusting the rod of office out towards Fëanáro.

"I never wanted this, my brother," he said sincerely. "I relinquish unto thee the regency. The crown is thine as it was always meant to be. Thou’rt Noldóran and thou hast mine allegiance." With that, he knelt before his brother.

Silence reigned. Fëanáro stared down at Ñolofinwë with grave intensity before raising his eyes to the others. "And you? Do I also have your allegiance?"

One by one, beginning with Arafinwë, the others all knelt, some more reluctantly than others. Only Ingwë, Ingwion and Indis remained standing. Fëanáro raised an eyebrow at them but otherwise said nothing, turning back to Ñolofinwë and taking the rod of office from him.

"Rise then," he commanded and they did. He noted the sour looks on the faces of some of the younger family members, Findaráto and Artanis especially, but ignored them. They were of no real consequence. It was his half-brothers he needed to convince. Deciding to be gracious, for it truly cost him nothing to be so, he smiled at Ñolofinwë. "Thou hast Our thanks for thy diligence in caring for our people and our city."

"I did my duty to them and to... to Atar," Ñolofinwë said quietly.

Fëanáro nodded. "We will speak later of a suitable public ceremony, but for now, the journey was long and wearying and I would see my followers returned to their proper homes."

"Of course," Ñolofinwë said. "Let us return to the palace," and with a quiet word from him everyone stepped aside so that Fëanáro, eldest son of Finwë and now Noldóran, could enter his city.