121: Funeral for a Prince

During the next few days preparations went ahead for the farewell ceremony for Ingalaurë while Ingwë and his family awaited the arrival of Olwë and Eärwen and whoever was accompanying them. In the meantime, a brief ceremony for Lemenyon was arranged, his body brought to the palace. It was a simple affair with Lememyon’s wife and children and other family members attending along with close neighbors and friends. Ingwë, Elindis and Arafinwë were on hand but on Ingwë’s orders, others stayed away, giving Lemenyon’s family their privacy.

One Maia also attended — Olórin. He greeted the mourners in Lord Manwë’s name and expressed his condolences on behalf of the Valar. "That any should suffer as grievously as you have, my dears, pains my masters and they wish to ensure you that Lemenyon does not suffer but presently sleeps in peace. Eventually he will awaken and when the time is meet as my Lords Manwë and Námo deem, he will be re-embodied and returned to you."

Lemenyon’s widow smiled gratefully at the Maia through her tears and thanked him for his words. Then one by one, she and the other mourners took a moment to speak about their loved one. Most spoke of Lemenyon’s devotion to his wife and children. One friend spoke of the pride Lemenyon had felt when he’d been accepted as one of Lord Ingoldo’s retainers. The youngest of Lemenyon’s children, an elleth not yet forty, spoke softly of how her atto always sang her and her siblings to sleep and how much she had missed that when he went away.

And all the while, Ingwë stood silently by and listened very carefully to all that was said.

Eventually, the last person finished speaking and then, one by one, starting with the widow, everyone stepped to where the body lay and placed a single helinyetillë blossom around the bier until he was surrounded by the beautiful flowers, some purple, others yellow, one or two a shade that could almost be considered black. Then the mourners retired to the royal dining hall where Ingwë had arranged for a feast over which he and Elindis presided. Only when the Elves were all gone did Olórin summon Fionwë and together they took up Lemenyon’s bier and thought themselves to a remote mountain valley that was totally inaccessible to any of the Children and placed Lemenyon inside a cave that had been prepared for him, sealing it with a single thought.

And next to it was another cave waiting to receive a prince.

****

Olwë and Eärwen arrived with their retinue the following day. Olwë was accompanied by his wife and heir, while Eärwen came with Amarië and Lady Ancalimë, whom Ingwë had summoned. Ingwë, Elindis, Arafinwë and Intarion were on hand to greet their guests, most of them insisting on seeing Ingalaurë for themselves before freshening up, though Ingwë gave Lady Ancalimë permission to retire to her own townhouse when she asked. Arafinwë and Eärwen greeted one another passionately, ignoring everyone else, and even Intarion, who had had little reason to smile until then, grinned at the sight. Olwë and Ingwë exchanged amused glances and almost simultaneously cleared their throats and the two hastily left off their kisses, reddening in embarrassment.

"Shall we?" Ingwë said, motioning for them to enter the palace and they all trooped in.

"Where’s Ingwion?" Lirillë asked Elindis as the two queens walked side-by-side.

"I’m afraid he’s not feeling up to visitors at the moment," Elindis said smoothly. "He will join us later."

"It must have been harder on him than on everyone else, considering how close he was to Ingil," Lirillë said sympathetically.

"So we’ve been told," Elindis replied somewhat frostily, not looking at Lirillë. The Queen of the Teleri gave her Vanyarin counterpart a considering look, but said nothing more, for they had reached the throne room and the visitors all went silent as they entered the dim chamber, lit only by the four white candles.

They all hesitated at the threshold, as if unsure what they should do. Even the Teleri looked uncomfortable for all that they had suffered similarly not too long ago. Ingwë gave them a sympathetic look. "It’s all right," he said softly, understanding their reluctance. "The Valar placed a preservation spell on him much like the one they put on Míriel’s hröa, I understand."

Olwë nodded and he and Lirillë stepped forward arm-in-arm while the others followed. Intarion walked with Amarië who took his arm with a grateful smile. They ranged themselves around the bier and more than one of the visitors started weeping. Ingwë, Elindis and Arafinwë remained dry-eyed, their tears all spent. Intarion awkwardly held Amarië in his right arm and wept in sympathy.

"How did he die?" Olwë asked finally.

"We are still determining that," Ingwë answered. "We only know that he fell, but whether it was an unfortunate accident or something more, I cannot say. Hopefully it will come out at the trial."

"Trial?" Eärwen exclaimed, looking at her husband, who nodded grimly.

"There is much that you do not know, my love," he said, "but this is neither the time nor place for telling all that has happened of late."

"Arafinwë is correct," Ingwë said. "Time enough to fill you in on all the details after we’ve seen to Ingil."

"When is the ceremony?" Lirillë asked.

"Tomorrow," the High King answered. "Or what we have decided is ‘tomorrow’." He gave them a wry look. "I never had the opportunity to have a water clock set up similar to the one Fëanáro created for the Noldor. For administrative purposes, Elindis, I believe, had certain people watch the stars and mark the hours by their progress. I don’t know if Ingoldo bothered with that. At any rate, we’re going to have to coordinate with the rest of Eldamar eventually so we all agree on the day and time together."

"You and the Noldor, perhaps, but we Lindar have always depended on the stars to guide us," Olwë said, "and care naught for the passing of the hours."

"And we will have to relearn that skill," Ingwë said equably, "for while the Valar told me they were working on the problem of how to bring light back to Aman, there is no guarantee that they will be able to, or at least not anytime soon. At any rate, the ceremony will begin when that star we name Alcarinquë rises."

Olwë nodded. "An appropriate time," he said with a nod. He looked at Lirillë and Lindarion to gauge their states of mind and then turned to Ingwë. "Perhaps we should retire for a time," he said.

Ingwë nodded. "Arafinwë and Intarion will show you to your suite. Amarië, I will have you escorted to your parents." His tone brooked no argument and the elleth merely nodded meekly.

Then, they all quietly filed out of the chamber, leaving the dead prince and his honor guards behind.

****

Ingwë had arranged for dinner to be a family affair only. Not even those nobles of the realm who customarily joined the royal family for dinner were there, and more than one person expressed their gratitude for that small mercy. The only person at the dinner who was not a family member was Erunáro and beyond greeting the Noldor and Teleri politely, he pointedly ignored them all as he kept an eye on Ingwion. Olwë gave Ingwë an enquiring look but Ingwë merely shook his head and mouthed the word ‘Later’. Olwë had to be satisfied with that and greeted the prince warmly enough, as did everyone else. Ingwion’s responses were distant and uncertain, as if he could not quite remember who these people were, and there was a look of confusion on his face when more than one person expressed their sympathy at his loss.

He brightened somewhat when he saw Lindarion, for they were of an age, and he began speaking to the heir to Alqualondë about hawking. Intarion, at a nod from Erunáro, joined the conversation, asking Lindarion what his favorite hunting bird was and the Teler, without really understanding what was going on, readily answered and soon the three were having an animated conversation as they ate, sitting by themselves at one of the tables below the salt, encouraged quietly by the Maia who would make a statement or ask a question whenever the conversation lulled.

The others, sitting at the high table, watched the three ellyn for a time with various expressions of concern and dismay. Olwë, sitting on Ingwë’s right, tapped him on the arm to get his attention.

"Perhaps you should explain," he said quietly.

Ingwë grimaced but complied to the request. "He doesn’t remember Ingil dying," he said in a harsh whisper. "He thinks Ingoldo’s hiding him somewhere."

There were looks of surprise and confusion on more than one face. "What does Ingoldo have to do with it?" Eärwen asked. "And for that matter, shouldn’t he and Tinwetariel be here?"

"I never made it to Vanyamar," Ingwë replied, speaking softly enough that those sitting further away leaned forward to better hear what he had to say. "I won’t go into details, but Ingoldo arranged for me to be waylaid and taken to Formenos where I was kept until Ingwion, along with Arafinwë, Intarion, Valandur and one other, rescued me. In the meantime, Ingoldo, having taken control of the city, sent Elindis and Indil to Lady Ancalimë’s manor while Ingil was forced to remain in the city as his puppet." He paused to take a sip of wine. "At least, that is what was supposed to happen. Ingoldo was attempting to take the crown, telling everyone I had abdicated to sit at the feet of Lord Manwë." He gave them a grimace. "I can’t think of anything more boring."

"Actually, it was rather enlightening, if I do say so myself," Arafinwë said and all eyes fell on him. He gave them a smile. "Another story for another time."

"Indeed," Ingwë said. "At any rate, Ingil managed to take control and forced Ingoldo to take him to Ancalimë’s estate with the intention of freeing Elindis and Indil. Unfortunately, events didn’t turn out quite as anyone had planned. Ingil died and Ingoldo is in custody awaiting trial for treason, at least. Whether he will be charged with murder remains to be seen."

Silence reigned at the high table as people digested what Ingwë had said. They were startled by the sound of Ingwion laughing at something one of the other ellyn had said and Olwë narrowed his eyes. "He truly does not remember?" he asked.

"So we’ve been told by Lord Irmo," Ingwë answered. "He says that in time Ingwion will accept what has happened, but in the meantime, we are forced to have at least one of Lord Manwë’s Maiar watching him at all times. His actions can be rather erratic at times."

"When Falmaron... died... I wanted to retreat into myself and shut the world away," Olwë admitted, not looking at anyone in particular. "Unfortunately, as Lindaran, I did not have that luxury. Some of my people who were not involved in the fighting nevertheless allowed their fëar to flee to Mandos, the shock of losing their loved ones too great for them to endure."

"We are just grateful that Ingwion did not also follow his brother to Mandos," Elindis said. "The thought of losing both our sons...." She shook her head, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks and Eärwen, sitting next to her, took her into her embrace and held her.

"At any rate, I am seriously debating allowing Ingwion to attend tomorrow’s ceremony," Ingwë said after a moment or two of awkward silence. "We’ve had him brought to Ingil, to show him his brother, but each time he denies that the person lying there is Ingil, that it’s someone else. I’m rather at wits end as to what to do."

"Have him attend, Brother," Indis said where she sat on the other side of Arafinwë. "It matters not if he accepts that it is Ingil. Just tell him that as a prince of the realm it is his duty to attend this particular ceremony. With the Maiar in attendance, he won’t be allowed to disrupt it."

Ingwë nodded. "I had come to the same conclusion, but I still hesitate to burden him with this. His mind doesn’t seem to be working right. In some ways he’s acting more like an elfling of twenty-five instead of someone who has seen twenty-three yéni."

"Yet he needs to face reality and accept what has happened, what is happening, and you cannot coddle him forever, Ingwë," Arafinwë said somewhat coldly to the surprise of others and they had a sense that this was an ongoing debate between the two kings.

"You’re right, of course," Ingwë said ruefully, "But let us put all that aside for now." He turned to Olwë with a wicked grin. "I understand from Arafinwë that you took Lord Manwë to task, demanding reparation from the Valar for what happened in Alqualondë. Even I would never be that brave... or foolish."

Olwë had the grace to blush. "It seemed a reasonable request under the circumstances."

One or two of the listeners snickered and Ingwë insisted on hearing all the details of the audience. Olwë was reluctant to speak at first but when Arafinwë started to describe what happened, purposely exaggerating his narrative, Olwë was forced to intervene in his own defense, much to the amusement of the others.

Dinner became more lively after that as the royals put aside their grief for a time and enjoyed one another’s company.

****

There were two ceremonies, one of them private, where only the immediate family and the other royals stood around the bier and quietly spoke of their love for Ingalaurë, some of them sharing fond memories while others who only knew of the ellon by reputation listened. A bouquet of helineyetilli of mixed shades was placed in the ellon’s folded hands by Elindis, secured by ribbons, and then one by one, following Elindis’ lead, they came and kissed Ingalaurë in farewell.

Noticeably missing was Ingwion, whom Manveru kept company elsewhere until the public ceremony would begin.

That ceremony took place in the wide courtyard fronting the palace, allowing as many of the citizens as wished to attend. A high platform had been constructed at one end and a long table was placed in the center covered with white sendal. A roped-off path was made between the palace and the platform and people lined either side of it. The crowd stood in silence waiting for the doors to open, many of them gazing southwestward, watching for the rising of Alcarinquë which would be the signal for the ceremony to begin.

They did not have to wait long and as Alcarinquë cleared the horizon, an unseen sentry, standing watch at the southern gate of the city, blew a clear note on a silver horn and the doors of the palace opened. The first person who came out was Elemmírë, Ingwë’s chief bard, playing a soft lament on a small harp, though she did not sing. Behind her came Sérener in the place of honor, carrying one of the silver candlesticks that had illuminated the throne room, while four of his fellow guards, chosen by lot, followed, carrying the bier on their shoulders. Behind them came Ingwë and Elindis with Indis, Indil and Ingwion and Intarion. To the surprise of many, Ingoldo and Tinwetariel came next and whispered comments by some were ruthlessly hushed by others and the crowd became silent once again. The other royals followed in no particular order of precedence. Walking among them were Valandur and Findis, and surprisingly enough Eccaldamos, Tulcafindil and Marilla, who were there at Ingwë’s insistence, much to their bemusement. Court nobles brought up the rear, but they did not join the royal family on the platform. Instead, they joined those already standing at the base of the platform where a space had been left for them.

At no time did any in the crowd make obeisance to Ingwë and Elindis, having been instructed beforehand by heralds to remain standing as the procession went by.

The bier was set on the table and the guards moved to stand at the four corners of the platform while Sérener placed the candle at Ingalaurë’s head before stepping away. The family gathered on three sides of the bier, leaving the side facing the courtyard open.

Ingwë then stepped forward to address the people. "We are gathered here to farewell my beloved son, Ingalaurë, who, for a brief time, acted as my Regent during my absence. His amillë named him Mahalmacundo, and he proved himself a true guardian of the crown, risking his life to save his queen and the Lady Indil, while his brother, Ingwion, concentrated his efforts on rescuing his king."

Only those standing next to Ingwion noticed him start at Ingwë mentioning his name. Unobtrusively, Manveru slowly manifested himself by the ellon’s side where he had been all along. Only those on the platform noticed nor were they surprised, for they had been told ahead of time that the Maia would be there. Manveru placed a hand on Ingwion’s shoulder, as much to offer comfort as to warn.

Before the ceremony, Ingwë, with Manveru and Erunáro, had impressed upon Ingwion the need to behave, especially with Ingoldo attending, for Ingwë had decided that, for propriety’s sake, his brother and sister-in-law should be there. That had not pleased Ingwion one bit, but he gave his word that he would be good and he did so by ignoring everyone around him, losing himself in fantasies of what he would do to Ingoldo when no one was around to stop him and of finding his brother. Now his attention was focused on what his atar was saying.

"My sons were aptly named by their amillë," Ingwë continued, "for Ingwion did indeed redeem the throne by freeing me from my captors and for that I will be forever grateful."

Ingwion frowned, trying to understand what his atar was saying. He vaguely recalled the journey to Formenos and finding his atar, but it was as if it had happened to someone else and he could find no emotional connection to it.

"Ingalaurë sought only to keep the throne safe, whatever it took. He was the queen’s champion and took his role as her protector seriously. And for that, he died."

The absolute baldness of that last statement caused more than one of the listeners to gasp but Ingwë was not finished.

"How he died will be the subject of an investigation. For now, it only remains for us to honor him and his sacrifice. A time will come, so I have been assured by Lord Námo, when Ingalaurë will be returned to us. That time, however, is in the future. Today, we mourn for a life cut short by unforeseen circumstances, but equally, we can rejoice that, for a time, we were blessed by his presence and will be blessed by him again. Beneath the stars’ vast silence dark deeds were done but brave deeds also and so we honor the bravery of one whom we will miss until the day he is restored to us."

Then he stepped back and nodded to Elemmírë who came forward, plucking on her harp the same tune she had played earlier, but now her voice was raised in song in honor of Ingalaurë and the song she sang was the poem Ingalaurë had written about his dream, a dream that had so disturbed the Valar. Ingwë had given a copy of his son’s poem to the bard, asking her to set it to music for this occasion. The poem had no title, but with Ingwë’s approval, Elemmírë named her song Nainië iAtalanten and none who heard the plaintive tune were unmoved.

     "I saw my brother standing on a precipice

     overlooking a dark land lit only by starlight,

     and I wondered at the tears running down his cheeks...."

Ingwion stood and listened to Elemmírë singing, gazing at the brother whom he had refused to accept was dead. As the song progressed, something within him struggled to come out, to be acknowledged. Something deep within him whispered that perhaps his beloved brother truly was dead and lost to him, if only for a time. The lament crescendoed to the climax and Ingwion, hearing the words for the first time, recognized their import. He blinked away tears and his knees felt suddenly weak. Manveru took hold of his arm, keeping him upright. Intarion, standing on the other side, did the same. Ingwion just stood there weeping.

"Ingil," he cried in a hoarse whisper.

"Shh," Manveru said in a comforting tone. "It’s all right. Shh."

Ingwion paid no attention, his eyes firmly fixed on his brother lying before him. "M-my brother... my brother is dead," he cried more loudly, "Ingil is dead." And he wept even harder. Elindis started to move from where she stood beside Ingwë to go to her son, but Manveru shook his head and with the expedience of one who could control matter in any of its forms, wrapped himself around Ingwion and simply thought them both away. There were concerned looks on more than one face, but Ingwë simply nodded, letting them know that it was all right.

By this time, Elemmírë had finished her lament. Ingwë stepped forward again. "The Valar have arranged to take our son to a place known only to them where he will lie in peace."

As if that were the signal, there was a flash of light and then the platform became impossibly crowded with the appearance of the fourteen chief Maiar of the Valar who bowed deeply to the royal family. Then Eönwë stepped forward to address Ingwë and Elindis.

"I greet you on behalf of my Lord Manwë and my Lady Varda and all the Valar, Ingwë and Elindis, and extend to you their deep-felt sorrow for your loss. Trust that we who have been assigned to this task by our masters will treat your son with the respect he deserves as an Eruhin. The place of his entombment shall become hallowed ground and we will see that it remains inviolate for all time."

Both Ingwë and Elindis bowed and softly thanked the Herald of Manwë who turned to his fellow Maiar and the fourteen of them ringed the bier while everyone else moved to the perimeter of the platform. The Maiar as one raised their arms and a globe of light sparkling in iridescent hues, enveloped them and the bier. Then there was a bright flash of light that blinded the onlookers and when they could see again, the Maiar and Ingalaurë were gone.

Ingwë took Elindis into his arms and the two clung to one another for a time while all others stood in shocked and sympathetic silence. Then they saw the High King straighten, giving his wife a loving kiss, and together the two made their way off the platform to return to the palace with the others following them in no particular order.

This time, every knee was bent.

****

Helinyetillë: Pansy. In the language of flowers, it means ‘think of me’, from the French pensée ‘thought’, as well as ‘heart’s-ease’, the meaning Tolkien associates with this flower. In alchemical circles the viola family is associated with the planet Pluto and with transformation, doorways, death and rebirth. The plural is helinyetilli.

Alcarinquë: ‘The Glorious’, i.e. Jupiter.

Nainië iAtantalan: Lament for the Fallen.