60: After the Coronation

"Has he gone insane!?" Varda fairly screamed as Manwë, Námo and Nienna appeared in the main throne room of Ilmarin. The other Valar were already there, Ulmo appearing last, dripping seawater as he sat upon his throne, his trident still in his hands. Varda gave him a pained look at the water puddling around him, which he ignored.

"Apparently," the Elder King said with a sigh as he took his own seat. "Whatever has possessed him and his sons to utter such an oath?"

"Olórin was supposed to be keeping a watch on the Noldor," Ulmo pointed out. "Perhaps we should summon him and get his report."

"And where is Eönwë?" Varda asked. "He would have to be recording the oaths, would he not?"

Manwë nodded. "Eönwë, Olórin," he said softly and instantly both Maiar stood before him. Eönwë clutched the Book of Oaths and his expression was one of deep pain. Olórin stood beside him, his arm around his fellow Maia’s shoulders as much to support him as to offer him comfort. Manwë looked upon his Herald with grave sympathy and gestured for him to approach, rising to embrace him.

"Were you made to record the oath?" he asked gently and Eönwë nodded, trembling.

"It... it was worse than when I had to record Melkor’s lies," he whispered. "Why did he... they give such an oath? I... I felt sick and... and polluted with every word I wrote. I wanted to scream and hide myself in the core of a star the... the way Lord Námo used to." And then he was weeping and Manwë held him closer. The Elder King glanced at Námo over Eönwë’s head, his eyes glittering with suppressed humor at the affronted look on the Lord of Mandos’ face while the other Valar struggled to hide their grins. Still holding his Herald, Manwë turned his attention to Olórin.

"What happened?"

Olórin sighed and gave them a grimace. "I do not know if Fëanáro actually intended to speak that vile oath from the very beginning or if it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. He was addressing his people after receiving the crown and... inciting them to follow him to Endórë."

There were murmurs of surprise among them. "Whyever would they want to do that?" Yavanna demanded.

Olórin shrugged, giving them a mirthless grin. "Fëanáro has decided to follow Melkor and wrest from him the Silmarils... or die trying. He’s convinced the greater part of the populace to join him."

"Death is all they will achieve, for, if they follow Fëanáro, his oath will lead them to their destruction," Námo proclaimed solemnly. "None of the Children are capable of defeating Melkor."

"True," Ulmo said with a shake of his head, "but that does not mean they will not try. The Eldar are a stubborn race and the Noldor are the worst of them in that regard. Look at Finwë."

"They must know they cannot defeat any Ainu," Varda said. "Melkor is beyond them. The very weakest of us still has power beyond their comprehension."

"It will not deter Fëanáro from his course," Manwë said, still holding onto Eönwë, whose tears were finally abating.

"That is true, lord," Olórin said. "He has convinced the Noldor that you are helpless and impotent and will do nothing to redress the wrong done to us, or rather, to him. He prates about his treasure but apparently cares little for the welfare of Aman itself."

"Ingwë tried to reason with him," Eönwë said, stepping out of Manwë’s embrace, pulling himself together, "but I fear the High King has not the eloquence of Fëanáro and some of the things he said only provoked Fëanáro further. In the end, Fëanáro spoke his oath as much in spite towards Ingwë as in defiance to you, lord."

Manwë nodded, resuming his seat as Eönwë took his usual place next to Manwë’s throne, still clutching the Book of Oaths. Silence reigned in Ilmarin as the Elder King contemplated all that he had heard. He glanced at each of the Valar. "How have your people reacted?" he asked, knowing the answer already, for he was well aware of the reaction of his own Maiar.

"Some are in a state of shock," Aulë replied and most of the others nodded. "Others are either angry or fearful, for never has such an oath been spoken, not even by Melkor. Many wonder what it portends for all of Arda and if Atar will even acknowledge it."

"I have recorded the oath," Eönwë said. "It cannot be unrecorded."

"That is true," Manwë said, "but it does not necessarily follow that every oath recorded is acknowledged by Atar. I suspect that in the end he will use the oaths you record to instruct his Children as much as anything. That book is more for their benefit rather than Atar’s. He has no need for such a book."

Eönwë nodded. "I know," he said with a grimace. "I had often wondered why Atar even bothered to have me record the Children’s oaths but I came to the same conclusion as you, lord, and I think that at the End of Time the Children will be shown what effect their oaths, whether well- or evilly-spoken, have had on the whole history of Arda."

"Well, for the moment, we must concentrate on the here and now and determine what response we will give Fëanáro," Manwë said sorrowfully. "I fear I have underestimated that ellon."

"Surely, they do not mean to leave Aman?" Nessa asked. "How will they even reach Endórë? We certainly will not transport them."

"They have only two choices," Oromë replied. "Either to take the land route across the Helcaraxë or to inveigle the people of Alqualondë to lend them ships. I seriously doubt Olwë will permit that, though."

"Olwë will not," Ulmo said portentously. "He and his people love those ships too much to give them over to others and as much as Olwë loved Finwë he never had much use for Finwë’s first-born son. His heart leans more towards Arafinwë for obvious reasons."

"We will have to see what develops," Manwë said. "It may be that once the first flush of enthusiasm passes, cooler council will prevail and the Noldor will come to their senses."

"Should we not send someone to speak to them?" Vairë asked. "Should we not tell them of our displeasure? Certainly you, Manwë, must address the oath Fëanáro and his sons have uttered. That cannot go unanswered."

"True," Manwë agreed, "but it is in my mind that to speak against it now will only inflame them further, especially Fëanáro. Let us give them time to rethink their plans. They will not be setting off immediately at any rate."

"I think we are underestimating the strength of will of the Children," Námo said. "I have a feeling that events are spiraling out of our control."

"If that is so, then we must begin planning for every contingency," Tulkas said gravely. "I reck little of the doings of the Children, but the death of the Trees has left us all reeling emotionally and I think that goes doubly so for them. I doubt me not that Fëanáro is dangerously close to slipping into madness, if he has not done so already."

There was an uncomfortable silence following Tulkas’ words. Finally, Manwë nodded. "There are many who say you are of little worth in our councils, Tulkas, paying no heed for the past or the future, but today you speak wisely and I can only think that Atar himself has given you these words for us to hear. Therefore, let us begin making contingency plans, for we can never know which way the Children will go."

The other Valar nodded and both Olórin and Eönwë were dismissed, Olórin to return to Tirion to keep watch on the Noldor and Eönwë to continue overseeing the strengthening of their borders against Melkor’s possible return. When they were alone, the Valar began their deliberations.

****

"Do you mean to go with him?" Ingwë demanded, speaking to Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë. It was now several hours after the coronation and they were gathered together in Ñolofinwë’s sitting room. Neither Anairë nor Eärwen were there, for they had no desire to discuss Fëanáro. Ingwion was elsewhere as well, visiting with his younger cousins. The coronation feast had been held, though delayed, but not all who should have attended did so. Ingwë doubted if Fëanáro, flushed with victory, even noticed or cared. Or perhaps he did and does, he thought sourly. It was impossible to tell with that one.

"I gave him my oath," Ñolofinwë said coldly. "Whither he goes, I will follow."

"Even to the point of deserting your city and those who decide not to go on this hare-brained adventure of his?" Ingwë shot back sarcastically and was secretly pleased to see both ellyn blushing.

"He’s mad, brother," Arafinwë said softly. "Anyone can see that. We have no hope of achieving what he desires. None of us has the strength to go up against Melkor...."

"Moringotto," Ñolofinwë corrected absently.

"Whatever name you wish to give him, he is still a Vala, and is beyond us in all things," Arafinwë retorted impatiently.

Ñolofinwë sighed and nodded. "I know and truly I have no desire to leave Tirion. I doubt if everyone will want to either. Fëanáro is the one who is deserting us, he and his sons. Someone of the House of Finwë needs to remain to govern and it is logical that as atar’s next eldest son, that person be me."

"What of your children?" Ingwë asked. "How do they feel about it?"

Now both ellyn had looks of anger. "Turucáno is of like mind with us," Ñolofinwë said, "as is Findaráto, but Findecáno seems eager to depart this very day."

"Likewise, Artanis," Arafinwë said sourly. "She prates on about exploring the wide unguarded lands of Endórë and ruling a realm of her own." He snorted in disgust. "Pure foolishness and my two other sons are almost as bad, though Artaher stood beside me counseling calm."

"What of Aracáno and Írissë?" Ingwë asked Ñolofinwë who shrugged.

"He says nothing, neither yea nor nay. I suspect he is waiting to see how the rest of the family decides before making up his own mind. Same with Írissë."

"At least those eager to be off have not made any oaths such as the one Fëanáro and his sons made," Arafinwë said with a sigh. "How could he have uttered such a vile oath? He truly is mad to do so."

Ingwë shook his head. "If anything I think Fëanáro was the sanest he’s ever been when he uttered that oath."

The two princes stared at him in surprise. "How can you say that?" Arafinwë demanded. "That oath was born of insanity."

"No," Ingwë countered, shaking his head. "It was born of malice. I saw his eyes when he spoke. He knew exactly what he was doing and he did what he did to spite me as much as anything. He never intended to give me his fealty. He knew that if he had done so he would not have been able to do what he most desires, to follow Melkor to Endórë and wrest from him the Silmarils, for I as High King would have forbidden him, or at the least stripped him of his kingship if he was determined to defy me. Notice, he says nothing of returning the Silmarils to Aman to help heal the Trees, if indeed such can be done at this late date. No, hinyar, he is fully cognizant of what he does, though others deem it madness."

"And the people have been caught up in the madness and will follow him," Ñolofinwë said with a disgusted snort.

"Not all," Arafinwë retorted. "I watched the crowds as Axantur was asking them if they accepted Fëanáro as their king. Many there were who kept silent, refusing to add their voice to those who shouted their approval and I suspect that they were ones who did not go to Formenos."

Ñolofinwë shrugged. "It matters not. Fëanáro is our king, for he is now the eldest of our House. Yet, if not all choose to follow him, then I will remain to govern them."

"Let us just hope that the greater part of the people will come to their senses in the coming days and decide to remain," Ingwë said with a frown. "That Fëanáro refuses to seek the blessing of the Valar for this venture disturbs me, though it does not surprise me."

"There has been no word out of Valmar or Ilmarin," Arafinwë said. "What do you suppose that portends?"

"Nothing good, I assure you," Ingwë replied. "Though perhaps they are merely waiting to see what happens next, I don’t know. All I do know is that I have overstayed my welcome here and will be returning to Vanyamar as soon as possible. I left Elindis and my other two children to deal with our people in their distress and I need to get back."

The two princes nodded. "We regret that you must leave us at this critical time, Uncle," Ñolofinwë said, "but we understand. I will see that you and Ingwion are provisioned for the journey. Everything will be ready by First Mingling." He scowled and shook his head. "We’ll have to come up with other words to describe the hours. There is no First Mingling or Second any more."

Ingwë gave them a sympathetic smile. "We’ll adjust, as we always have. I had best go find Ingwion and let him know."

"I think he and our children are in the lower gardens," Arafinwë said, "at least that’s where they were headed last time I saw them."

"Then I will look for them there," Ingwë said and, giving them a short bow, he left.

****

"I cannot believe they all uttered that terrible oath," Turucáno said in disgust as he and his brothers and sister were foregathered in an arbor in the lower gardens. Their Uncle Arafinwë’s children were with them along with Ingwion and Amarië, the elleth nestled in Findaráto’s arms. Elenwë had taken little Itarildë to bed some time before, the elfling sleepily protesting, and Angaráto’s wife, Eldalótë, had gone with her.

"I cannot believe that you two actually want to go with them," Findaráto said, looking pointedly at his sister and Findecáno. "Do you seriously think Atar will permit you to do so, nésanya?"

Artanis hrumphed and gave them a disdainful look. "I will go if it pleases me to do so and Atar cannot forbid me. I am not an elfling."

"Well you’re certainly acting like one," Findaráto retorted. "And you’re an elleth. Do you think Atar will permit you to travel alone?"

"Not alone," Aicanáro said with a smirk, "for Angaráto and I will accompany her."

Findaráto threw up his hands in disgust and Amarië gave him a sympathetic smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. He smiled at her and kissed her nose. Everyone else rolled their eyes at their play.

"And what is your excuse, Fin?" Turucáno asked his older brother.

"I will go because Nelyo goes," the ellon said softly. "We are otornor and it pained me when he went to Formenos. I will not be separated from him again."

"So you would give the same oath...."

"Nay, I will not," Findecáno protested, interrupting his brother, "but I will go with him nonetheless." His eyes lit up with excitement. "And will it not be wonderful to see the wide lands that our elders saw as they crossed Endórë? Who knows what kingdoms we may carve out for ourselves."

"Kingdoms," Ingwion repeated with a snort, entering the conversation for the first time. He had remained quiet until then, but Findecáno’s words forced him to speak. "And what of those who already reside there? Will you lord it over them, assuming they’ll let you?"

"And why should they not?" Findecáno shot back with a sniff. "I doubt that the Úmaneldi are as sophisticated as we. After all, we have enjoyed the tutelage of the Valar. I imagine they still live in rude huts or those platforms that were constructed in trees as our elders did while crossing Endórë."

"A rather arrogant view," Ingwion said with a scathing look, "considering that we know nothing of what has happened there. They may have built great cities of their own."

"Remember the words of my atar: ‘In what manner dost thou imagine that these lands thou hast never seen belong to thee? Canst thou name their rivers and mountains? Canst thou describe to me the forests that grow there or the animals that dwell beneath them?’" Findaráto quoted and Ingwion, who had not heard of this before, was pleased to see his younger cousins, especially Findecáno, looking abashed at the reminder.

"Apparently Fëanáro has not heard these words of wisdom from Arafinwë," Ingwion said with a wry look.

"Even if he had, he would not heed them," Findaráto said with a grin, "especially considering the source."

Ingwion snorted and the others grinned. The sound of someone making his way towards them alerted them and they looked to see who was coming though in the darkness it was difficult to make out any features, for their eyes were still adjusting to the loss of the Light. Ingwion was the first to recognize the newcomer, who made his way to them unerringly, not even carrying a torch.

"Atto!" he cried in surprise and everyone else hastily rose to their feet to give the High King their obeisance.

Ingwë smiled at them, accepting their bows and curtsies, as they made way for him and he settled himself on one of the benches they’d been sitting on, gesturing for them to join him. "I came to see how you were faring," he told them, "and to get your views on what has happened."

There was an uncomfortable silence among the younger Elves for some time before Ingwion ventured to speak. "We are all appalled at what happened," he said quietly. "That oath...." He shuddered and his expression was bleak.

Ingwë nodded sympathetically. "A vile oath if ever there was one," he said, "one that should never have been given." He sighed. "I fear great evil will come of it."

"Findecáno and Artanis are talking about joining our dear uncle on his mad venture," Findaráto said in disgust. "And my brothers are just as eager to be gone."

Ingwë gave the named Elves a searching look and only Artanis was able to face him with any equanimity and only for a brief second or two longer than the others. "There is nothing there for you, for any of you," he said solemnly, "accept possibly death. Fëanáro is insane to think that he or any of the Eldar can wrest the Silmarils from Melkor. However far he has fallen, yet is he as far beyond any of us in power as those stars are from us." He pointed to the heavens and the others glanced up involuntarily.

"So some of us have been saying," Turucáno said, "though I fear our words have fallen on deaf ears." He glowered at his older brother, who refused to look at any of them.

"What will you do, Sire?" Amarië asked. "Will you forbid Fëanáro and his sons to go?"

"No," Ingwë said. "I cannot, and even if I did so forbid it, Fëanáro will not be counseled by me or anyone else. He is determined to go."

"But he’s the king," Írissë exclaimed. "He cannot just run off willy-nilly as he pleases. He has responsibilities here. We need him."

"And if we, or at least the vast majority of us, decide to follow him, what then?" Findaráto asked with a sneer.

No one had an answer to that and the silence between them became uncomfortable again. Finally, though, Ingwë spoke. "At any rate, it is too early to say what any of us will do. Your atari and I are hoping that with further reflection, the Noldor will reject Fëanáro’s plan. Fëanáro and his sons may find that they will be venturing alone except for their immediate retainers."

"And what if everyone decides otherwise?" Artanis asked.

Ingwë shrugged. "I do not know, child. We must just hope for the best. At any rate, I only came to tell Ingwion that we will be returning to Vanyamar shortly. I see no reason to remain here any longer than necessary."

There were nods all around. Ingwë gave Amarië a considering look. "I think, under the circumstances, my dear, that you should return to Vanyamar with us."

Amarië looked surprised. "I have no desire to do so, Sire," she said. "Findaráto and I will marry soon and...."

"Do you think we should?" Findaráto asked. "I mean, given all that has happened, should we not postpone the wedding until we know for sure what the Valar will do?"

Amarië gave him a hurt look. "Do you wish to break the betrothal then?"

"Nay, I do not," Findaráto protested, "but everything is so uncertain. Do you seriously think anyone will welcome this wedding? We are all in a state of grief and mourning. A wedding is the last thing on anyone’s mind."

"Not mine," Amarië whispered forlornly and even though Findaráto attempted to comfort her, she shied away from his embrace, his own expression now one of confusion and hurt at her rejection.

Ingwë decided to intervene. "At any rate, daughter," he said gently, "I think you should return to Vanyamar with us. I cannot believe your parents acquiesced in allowing you to come here."

"I... um... didn’t tell them," she admitted, now looking embarrassed.

Findaráto gave her a look of disbelief. "You told me you had their blessing to come with me to Tirion."

Amarië refused to look at anyone and did not answer. Ingwë shook his head. "Then it is all the more imperative that you return to Vanyamar, child. Castamir might overlook your absence, but I doubt Amáriel has. I’m surprised she isn’t already here to drag you back by your ear." He smiled at her and the others chuckled, though Findaráto still looked dismayed.

"I do not wish to leave," Amarië said softly.

"Nevertheless, you will," Ingwë replied, his tone brisk and there was no give to it. They all recognized that it was the High King speaking and not just their Uncle. Amarië nodded, still looking embarrassed. "I am sorry I deceived you, beloved," she said to Findaráto.

"As am I," he said stiffly, then relented a little, leaning over to give her a kiss. "Uncle Ingwë is correct, though. You should return to Vanyamar before your ammë decides to come here and give us all grief."

Now Amarië giggled and soon they were all in a more cheerful mood. Ingwë remained for a little while longer, speaking to these younger Elves about their feelings and then, at his urging, they all returned to the palace to get some rest, though it was unlikely that any of them would actually sleep.

And in the wing of the palace set aside for the Noldóran and his family, Fëanáro and his sons were still awake, eagerly poring over maps of Valinor, discussing their route to Endórë and plotting what they would do about Pilu Moringotto when they finally caught up with him. It was obvious to Olórin, who watched over them unclad, that Fëanáro wasn’t the only one who had slipped into madness and the Maia wondered sadly where all of this would end.

****

Nésanya: My sister.

Úmaneldi: Those who did not reach the Blessed Realm but did leave Cuiviénen with the intention of going there. An attested word, cf. Amaneldi, i.e. the Elves of Aman.

Pilu Moringotto: Thief Morgoth.