117: Aftermath

"How is he doing?" Arafinwë asked Ingwë.

It was now some hours after what they were calling ‘the Rescue’. Ingwion had fallen into a natural sleep and his atar and Valandur had taken him to another bedroom on the same floor. The others found themselves feeling unaccountably exhausted and Lord Manwë assured them that it was a consequence of what they had done and encouraged them all to go to their rest. Elindis and Ingwë wished to remain with their other son, but Lady Estë stepped in and insisted that all of them lie down.

"You do not realize how exhausted you are," she said to them. "Do not fear for your son. He will not be alone. Our Maiar will watch over his hröa even as some watch over his fëa in Mandos."

The mention of Mandos caused a few of them to burst into tears and the Valar were busy for a time consoling them and easing their distress. Soon, all of them were asleep, except for the guards and even they rotated their duty so that they could take turns resting. Olórin was commanded to remain with Ingalaurë while other Maiar were called in to watch over those who slept. The Valar, once all was settled to their satisfaction, left.

Now, some hours later, only Ingwë and Arafinwë were awake. Ingwë’s first thought was to check on Ingwion. Arafinwë met him outside the door of the bedroom as he was exiting it.

"He’s still sleeping," Ingwë said, quietly closing the door.

Arafinwë nodded. "I was on my way to see how Tamurilon and Eccaldamos were faring. In all the excitement with Ingwion, I forgot to check on them before going to my rest."

Ingwë gave him a chagrined look. "As did I. Come, we will see them together. Tamurilon still knows nothing about Ingil or his atar." They headed down the hall, making for the spiral staircase that would take them down two levels to where Eccaldamos and Tamurilon were being housed. Both had been injured in the fray that had ensued when Ingwë’s forces had joined in the fight against Ingoldo’s men.

"It will be better if the news comes from us," Arafinwë said. "Luckily, neither of them were seriously injured. How soon do you plan to leave here and return to Vanyamar?"

"I think the sooner, the better," replied Ingwë, stepping onto the landing and looking back at Arafinwë, "but I hesitate to leave when things are still unsettled here. I need to deal with my brother and... and something has to be done for... for Ingil." He forcibly fought to keep the tears at bay.

Arafinwë reached out and put an arm around Ingwë’s shoulders and gave him a brief hug. "I’m here for as long as you and your family need me."

Ingwë nodded. "And I am grateful for your presence. You’ve grown, yonya, in ways I never expected."

"Me neither," Arafinwë said with a wink. They exchanged smiles and then made their way down the hall to the bedroom that belonged to the lady of the manor and had been meant as a trap for Ingalaurë and the others. A guard standing before the door saluted at their approach, opened the door and stepped aside to let them in.

Inside, they found Eccaldamos and Tamurilon sitting at a table eating. Eccaldamos sported a bandage around his head and Tamurilon’s left arm was in a sling, but they both looked well-rested and obviously their appetites had not been affected from what Ingwë and Arafinwë could see. Both ellyn looked up when the kings entered and made to rise, but Ingwë waved them back down, giving them a smile.

"I came to see how you were faring, but I guess I didn’t need to worry," he said, giving the table a significant glance.

Eccaldamos blushed and Tamurilon laughed, holding up a sticky bun. "Care to join us? I don’t know who you got to cook, but they’ve done an excellent job."

Ingwë and Arafinwë exchanged puzzled looks. "I don’t remember if I assigned anyone to be the cook or not," the High King said.

"Don’t look at me," Arafinwë retorted with a wry grin. "I barely know how to boil water, or so I've been told by a Maia or three."

"Perhaps we should go see just who is doing the cooking around here," Ingwë suggested.

"But first we have business here," Arafinwë reminded him, glancing sideways at Tamurilon.

"Perhaps I should leave," Eccaldamos said but Ingwë shook his head.

"No, you might as well hear this." Ingwë sighed and grabbed a chair and sat in it, facing the two ellyn, who gave him bemused looks. "There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. Tamurilon, Eccaldamos, Ingil... Ingil didn’t make it."

Eccaldamos sucked in his breath in shock, immediately understanding what the High King was saying, but Tamurilon gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean, he didn’t make it?"

"Tam, there was a struggle between Ingil and Ingoldo," Arafinwë said gently, answering for Ingwë. "They were on the top gallery. Somehow Ingil got too near the edge and lost his balance and fell. He’s dead, Tam. His fëa even now resides in Mandos under Lord Námo’s care."

Tamurilon went absolutely white. "Fell?" he whispered in horror. "Fell... or was pushed?"

The coldness of his query shocked the other three ellyn to the core and Ingwë could only sit there and shake his head, but whether in disbelief or in denial, even he could not have said.

"Ingoldo claims he did nothing to Ingil, that it was purely an unforeseen accident," he finally was able to say.

"And you believe him?" Tamurilon demanded.

"For the moment, yes," Ingwë retorted sharply. "I will be convening a trial soon enough to ascertain the guilt or innocence of several people, including Ingoldo. For now, though, I prefer to give my brother the benefit of the doubt that he is speaking the truth. The alternative is too horrific for me to contemplate just now."

Tamurilon looked unconvinced, but before he could comment further, Arafinwë spoke again. "There’s something else you should know, Tam," he said gently, "concerning your atar."

Tamurilon gasped and paled even more. "Atar! What’s happened to my atar?" Ingwë, being the closest, reached over and placed a comforting hand on his knee, getting his attention.

"He’s alive, child. Have no fear on that score, but something happened in Alqualondë where he was visiting and he was injured."

"Injured? How?"

"We don’t know all the details," Arafinwë answered, "but he was hit on the head and Olwë’s healers did all they could for him, but the nature of the injury was beyond their abilities to heal, so Olwë brought him to the Valar and he is now in Lórien receiving treatment. I have spoken with both Lord Irmo and Lady Estë and they assure me that he will make a full recovery. So, there is no need for you to panic, but we felt you needed to know what has happened."

"I cannot stay here," Tamurilon said, rising to his feet. "I must go to Lórien and be with my atar."

"And you will," Ingwë promised, rising as well and placing a hand on the younger ellon’s shoulder, "but not this very minute. You are barely recovered from your own injuries and you must first come to Vanyamar and act as a witness when I convene the trial. Afterwards, I will send you to Lórien with a suitable escort."

Tamurilon looked reluctant but finally nodded. He gave Arafinwë a stern look. "You promise Atar is not in any danger of... of...."

"No, Tam, your atar is not in any danger of dying," Arafinwë said, divining what the ellon could not articulate. "Of that, you have my word and the word of Lord Irmo."

"And Prince Ingalaurë?" Eccaldamos said, speaking for the first time.

Ingwë and Arafinwë gave him compassionate looks. "He is on the top floor of the tower," Ingwë said. "There is always someone with him. If either of you would like to go and sit with him for a while, you are welcome to do so. I need to make arrangements for transporting him back to Vanyamar, so we won’t be leaving immediately."

The two ellyn nodded mutely and then Ingwë and Arafinwë excused themselves, with Arafinwë snagging one of the uneaten sticky buns, much to everyone else’s amusement. "I’m curious as to who is running the kitchen," he said, taking a bite of the bun and grinning. "I think that should be our next stop."

Ingwë agreed and they made their way to the stairs and down to the ground floor, wending their way through the manor until they found the kitchen. Stepping inside they stopped in amazement at what they saw. The place was bustling with people, Maiar to be exact, all of them wearing the grey surcoat of Nienna, all of them busy with preparing what looked to be a sizeable feast. Arafinwë glanced around and saw someone he recognized.

"Marilliën?"

The Maia looked up from where she was chopping some vegetables and smiled. "Ah, Pityahuan, you’re just in time. Grab a knife and start slicing some of that bread over there. And your friend can dish out some of the herb butter into the small bowls over here."

Arafinwë and Ingwë exchanged bemused looks. Arafinwë raised an eyebrow and turned to the Maia who was still chopping away. "Ah, Marilliën, my friend is...."

"The High King. Yes, dear, I know," Marilliën said, stopping to lay the knife down and wipe her hands on a towel as she walked over to where the two Elves stood, her expression one of deep compassion. "We grieve for your loss, child," she said gently to Ingwë, "but have no fear for your son. I believe Lord Námo has several of his best people, including his chief Maia, looking after Ingalaurë."

Ingwë paled slightly but muttered a thank-you, not quite able to look the Maia in the eyes. Marilliën nodded and turned to Arafinwë. "The bread, Pityahuan, and don’t slice it too thick." She then slipped an arm in Ingwë’s and led him away. "The best antidote for grief is work," she said, "so why don’t you come over here and put the butter into these small bowls."

"I don’t think anyone is going to feel like eating," Ingwë protested, "and there are things I need to do...."

"Things others are more than capable of doing for you," the Maia countered. "As for not eating... that’s utter nonsense. You Children are mirroanwi. You have to eat. It will never do to have the High King fainting away for lack of food, now would it?" She gave him what he could only describe as a cheeky smile.

Ingwë raised an eyebrow and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, though grief still overshadowed it. "And, I, the High King, am the only one qualified to put butter into these bowls?"

Marilliën’s smile was beatific. "At the moment, yes," she answered.

"Don’t bother arguing with her, Ingwë," Arafinwë called out from where he was slicing bread. "I’ve learned that one never wins an argument with a Maia, especially one of Lady Nienna’s Maiar. It’s better to just do as she says, because somehow you end up doing it anyway no matter how much you protest."

"Well, I see you did learn something during your stay with us, Pityahuan," Marilliën said with a laugh and the other Maiar joined her. She turned back to an obviously bemused Ingwë. "Why don’t you tell us how you rescued young Ingwion while you’re dishing out the butter," she suggested, handing him a large wooden spoon. "We’re all interested in hearing about it."

Ingwë looked about and noticed the Maiar nodding, their expressions eager, as if they were elflings waiting for a favorite story to be told. He turned to Marilliën with a wry grin. "I suspect you know more about it than we do, lady."

"Tsh!" Marilliën said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "We’re interested in hearing your version of events."

Ingwë glanced over at Arafinwë who had stopped slicing long enough to give him a shrug, silently encouraging him. He nodded and began scooping up butter from a large crock and placing it in smaller cut crystal bowls, silently wondering what Lady Ancalimë would say when she learned that Maiar had taken over her kitchen. He glanced up at Arafinwë, who was now slicing a second loaf. "I want to know whose idea was it for all of you to show up when you did. I could feel Elindis and me losing him."

Arafinwë nodded, never looking up from his task. "It was Indil, actually. She somehow could sense what was happening and felt that you and Elindis needed more than just moral support, that you needed actual help in convincing Ingwion to return. It’s interesting, don’t you think, that it was Intarion’s goading him into anger that saved him rather than the love we all bear for him."

"Ah, so that’s what happened," Marilliën said with a satisfied nod even as she wandered through the kitchen, supervising everyone else’s work. "Yes, anger can be a great motivator."

"He’s very angry," Ingwë said with a puzzled look. "I don’t understand where it comes from."

"That is something that needs to be addressed," Arafinwë said. "Valandur, Intarion and I have discussed it some between us but could draw no conclusions as to how to help him past the anger. Most of it is directed against the Valar for not helping him find you, but I suspect some of it is self-directed."

Ingwë gave Arafinwë a sharp look. "From what you’ve told me the Valar helped you quite a bit."

"But they did not take Ingwion by the hand and lead him directly to you," Arafinwë countered with a knowing look. "Deep down, that is what he wanted even if he denies it. The Valar gave us aid, true, but it was meant to help us, not you. It was our task to find you using our own Eru-given intellect. It was not the Valar’s task to do the job for us. Ingwion couldn’t seem to understand the difference."

Ingwë nodded, scooping up more butter into a bowl, then laying the bowl aside with the two others that were filled, reaching for another empty bowl. "Yes, I got that impression during our stay in Formenos. By that argument, I should hate the Valar for not rescuing me as well."

"But you don’t," Marilliën stated as she returned to her own workstation and resumed chopping vegetables.

Ingwë shook his head. "It was my own stupid fault," he said. "I should have waited for an escort, but I honestly did not expect any trouble. What I don’t understand is how my brother knew to send his men to intercept me and how he knew I would be alone."

"That is something that you will have to learn at the trial, I imagine," Arafinwë said as he began arranging the sliced bread into cloth-covered baskets. "There are a lot of questions I would like to put to that ellon, assuming he ever answers."

There was a lull in the conversation after that as Ingwë silently contemplated certain things, mentally going through a list of tasks that he knew needed to be accomplished. "I need to arrange transportation for... for Ingil," he said aloud to no one in particular, stopping what he was doing to brush the tears that suddenly sprang from his eyes.

"And Lemenyon," Marilliën said without looking up from her task.

"Who?" Ingwë asked in obvious puzzlement.

The Maia stopped and gave him a significant look. "Lemenyon. The ellon who died at the hands of his own men."

"Oh," Ingwë said meekly. "I never learned his name."

Marilliën nodded. "Yet a name he has, and family waiting for him in Vanyamar, unaware that their wait will be long and uncertain."

Ingwë sighed and suddenly felt weak and disoriented. Before he realized what was happening, another Maia was beside him, gently leading him to a nearby chair. The Maia smiled at him and handed him a glass of water, which he gratefully drank.

"Thank you, Tiutalion," Marilliën said with an approving nod as she walked over to where Ingwë was seated, wiping her hands on a towel. "I would have done it myself but my hands were full."

Tiutalion beamed at his fellow Maia. "Whereas mine were mysteriously empty at just the right moment."

Marilliën snorted and shook her head, then gave Ingwë a sharp look. "You’re a bit pale. When was the last time you ate?"

Ingwë only shook his head. Arafinwë came over, his expression one of concern. "I don’t think any of us have eaten since we left Vanyamar. Too much has happened since."

"I’m not hungry," Ingwë protested weakly. "I... I just felt everything... I don’t know what to do next... Nothing makes sense any more and I’m foundering, grasping at straws."

The two Maiar gave him sympathetic looks. Arafinwë just nodded. "Sounds familiar," was all he said and went back to the cutting board, grabbed a slice of bread, returned to Ingwë, stopping to spread some butter on the bread, and handed it to him. "Hungry or not, eat. Marilliën is correct. We can’t afford to have you fainting away. As difficult as it may be for you, you need to be strong. Everyone is going to come to you for answers. I can help deflect some of them, and perhaps Valandur, but not all. For a while you must put your grief aside. Ingil and Lemenyon, Ingwion and Ingoldo, they all need to be seen to and you are the only one who can issue the necessary orders. Now, eat."

"Yes, Ammë," Ingwë muttered, though he took the proffered bread and began eating while the others chuckled.

Tiutalion refilled Ingwë’s goblet with more water and Marilliën ordered one of her people to scramble up some eggs for the two kings, giving Arafinwë a no-nonsense look, and he knew not to argue with her but said he would sit with Ingwë while they waited for their breakfast. Marilliën nodded and left them. Tiutalion excused himself to attend to his own duties.

"Feeling a little better?" Arafinwë asked Ingwë solicitously.

"Not really," Ingwë answered, still munching on the bread, "but I’m not going to argue with you about it."

"Good, because arguing won’t get you anywhere," Arafinwë said jovially. Then, his expression became more solemn. "We’ll get through this, Ingwë. Somehow. Just as you promised Ingwion. We’ll all get through this, taking it one step at a time."

One of the Maiar came over just then bearing two plates heaped with eggs and rashers of bacon and set them on the table before them, giving them a slight bow before returning to her work. Arafinwë dug right in, but Ingwë merely nibbled at a piece of bacon. Marilliën came over and, with hands on hips, gave him a glare.

"Do I have to spoon-feed you, Ingwë?" she asked.

Ingwë raised an eyebrow and there was a light of challenge in his eyes, which Arafinwë was secretly pleased to see. "I’d like to see you try," the High King retorted.

"Uh oh," Arafinwë muttered in feigned distress and made to move away from Ingwë, as if afraid to be caught in the battle that was sure to follow, but he was grinning at the same time, so the effect was lost.

Marilliën continued glaring at Ingwë and it was the ellon whose gaze finally dropped. "Yes, Ammë," he muttered as he reached for his plate and Arafinwë couldn’t help but to laugh while Marilliën merely smirked as she went back to her own work.

The two ellyn sat there and quietly finished their breakfast, each lost in his own thoughts. Arafinwë was about to suggest some tea when there was the sound of running feet and they could hear someone shouting Ingwë’s name. Ingwë stood up, looking alarmed.

"In the kitchen," he called out and a moment later Intarion came running in, his expression one of distress.

"Uncle! Thank the Valar I’ve found you. You must come quickly. It’s Ingwion. He just woke up screaming and he won’t stop."