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A Long-Expected Wedding  by Fiondil

Chapter the Twenty-Sixth:

In Which Nolofinwë is Recognized and There is a Riot

Ingwion led his brother and cousin into the silversmith’s shop where they stopped to admire the items displayed upon the shelves — plates, bowls and goblets, vases and candelabra, even the circlets that were favored by the ellyn of all classes to hold their hair in place.

There were several people already in the shop, which was not overly large, so Ingwion suggested that the two Reborn stay by the door. "I simply wish to check on something and then we can leave."

"Can we not look around, though?" Nolofinwë asked. "I might find something appropriate as a gift."

"Do you have a particular gift in mind?" Ingwion asked.

"Not really. I keep trying to remember Amarië, but nothing comes to mind, so I’m not sure what kind of elleth she is. I would like to get something I know they both would appreciate."

"Many of the gifts will be of the sort we can see here," Ingwion said nodding towards the various wares on display. "What they probably won’t get is something that has nothing to do with their household but has everything to do with them as a couple."

"Like what?" Nolofinwë asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Let me check on something and then we’ll go see what we can find," Ingwion suggested and Nolofinwë nodded. Ingwion moved toward a display of brooches, carefully checking them over. The silversmith came over and spoke with him and the two spent a good five minutes in discussion but neither Nolofinwë nor Ingalaurë were paying any attention. Instead, they were eyeing the rest of the shop and making quiet comments about what they could see. Then, Ingwion joined them.

"What was that all about?" his brother asked.

"Something private to me," Ingwion answered. "You remember Ammë’s talk about respecting other people’s privacy, don’t you?"

Ingalaurë nodded, reddening slightly. "I remember," he said.

"Good. Now, let’s go see what other shops there are here. I’m sure we can find something unique for the happy couple."

"Are they happy?" Nolofinwë asked unexpectedly as they exited the shop and moved further along the street.

"Why do you ask?" Ingwion said, looking baffled.

"Findaráto seems... haunted," came the surprising answer.

"Much has happened lately and not all of it pleasant," Ingwion replied in a somewhat neutral voice. "And I suspect with the wedding only a couple of days away he’s feeling suddenly nervous." He gave them a conspiratorial smile. "I have no doubt my cousin is thinking being surrounded by orcs without a weapon would be preferable to standing before family and friends and speaking his marriage vows."

The other two laughed in agreement.

"Oh, look, a woodworker’s shop," Ingalaurë said, pointing to a particular storefront. "Let’s see what they have."

The others agreed and soon they were breathing in the resinous smell of wood as they wandered through the shop admiring the various items on display. There was furniture of different sorts, everything from simple but beautifully crafted folding chairs ideal for traveling to ornately carved bookcases. There were privacy screens richly carved with various scenes of everyday life in Aman and even sculptures of various kinds, the woodworker obviously skilled in finding a shape within the wood and bringing it to the surface.

"Do you see anything you might like as a wedding gift?" Ingwion asked Nolofinwë but the Reborn just shook his head.

"I don’t remember Amarië at all, although I recognize the name, and Findaráto... I barely remember him. I don’t think buying a gift this late in the day is going to help. I’m really just going along for the children’s sake, Aracáno especially." He frowned slightly. "I know we Reborn act very much like elflings at times, but Aracáno seems particularly young."

"He did not live to have the same types of experiences as you and Findecáno or even Findaráto did," Ingwion said carefully. "I know the Crossing of the Ice was a terrible ordeal, but it was not necessarily the worst that any of you experienced and Aracáno was still considered young by our standards when you Noldor left. If he seems more childish than you remember him being, I think it’s a consequence of having died when he did."

Nolofinwë nodded. "So Lord Irmo said as well, but there are times when I find myself growing impatient with him and I want to tell him to grow up except that would be the pot calling the kettle black in my case." He gave his Vanyarin cousins a wry grin and they smiled back.

"Still, I think Findaráto would appreciate the gesture," Ingwion said. "I don’t think a gift from you need be elaborate. Indeed, I think a single gift from the three of you would be acceptable."

"As would I, but Aracáno had his heart set on buying his own wedding gift and I did not wish to spoil it for him," Nolofinwë said. "All the time we were staying with Lord Herendil’s family he kept going on about what kind of gift he could find. Findecáno doesn’t care and will just go along but Aracáno... he just seems different from what I remember him being."

"I think we are all different from what we were before, we who have been through Mandos," Ingalaurë spoke up, his expression sober. "I do not know if that difference is really significant. I try not to think about it too much and simply accept what is rather than what used to be or what could have been had I not died when I did." He shrugged at Ingwion’s nonplused expression. "I know I’m more like a little brother to you and Indil instead of being your twin. I know it will be a long time before I catch up with you, if I ever do."

Ingwion said nothing, simply giving his brother a fierce hug. "I’m just glad to have you back," he said softly.

"Well, enough of this maudlin talk," Nolofinwë said briskly. "We’re here to find a wedding gift for my nephew. Best get on with it. The hour is almost up and the others will be waiting for us."

Both Vanyar gave him bright smiles. "Now that’s the Nolofinwë I remember," Ingwion said with a laugh.

The once High King of the Exilic Noldor gave them a sheepish look. "Sorry."

"Don’t be, Cousin," Ingwion insisted. "I’m glad to see you reclaiming yourself. Now, if nothing here strikes your fancy we can go elsewhere. There are plenty of other shops."

Nolofinwë and Ingalaurë both nodded and the three exited the shop, taking a moment to decide on a direction once they were outside. "Let’s try this way," Ingalaurë suggested, pointing to another street that met their street and the other two agreed.

It turned out that what they thought was another street of shops was merely a short arcade connecting the street with a small square but as the square was lined with other shops they decided to look around. Turning to the right they walked under the colonnade that gave pedestrians protection from the elements, stopping before one shop or another but not bothering to go inside. Nolofinwë was content simply to wander and the Vanyar let him.

"I’d forgotten how... lively Life is," the once king mused, giving them a sheepish look. "Sorry. I can’t think of a better word."

Ingwion smiled. "I know what you mean, Cousin. From listening to other Reborn, I gather that Mandos is not so... lively."

"Oh, it has its moments," Nolofinwë said with a smile. "I remember having an actual argument with two Maiar and Lord Námo. I apparently wanted to go where I wasn’t supposed to and refused to take ‘No’ for an answer."

"What happened?" Ingwion asked.

"Oh, I lost the argument," Nolofinwë answered with a self-deprecating grin, "and then was not permitted to leave my sleeping chamber for some time afterwards." He gave Ingwion a shrug. Ingalaurë simply nodded, as if he’d had a similar experience. "As I was being sent to my room," — Ingwion couldn’t help laughing at that — "I overheard Lord Námo say to one of the Maiar, ‘Even when they don’t remember being kings, they still act like one’ and he didn’t sound very pleased as he said it. Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about, for I had no memory of my life before."

Ingwion thought about his cousin’s words, stealing a glance at his brother, trying — and failing — to picture Ingalaurë in Mandos. It was an exercise in futility, he knew, for he himself had no direct experience and all the descriptions he ever heard of Mandos were too vague from which to draw a picture. He started to say something to that effect but was stopped when someone came up to them, an ellon, who stared at Nolofinwë with grave intensity. Nolofinwë just stood there looking nervous.

"It’s you," the ellon finally exclaimed. "I wasn’t sure before but...." and then to their amazement, he gave Nolofinwë his obeisance. "Your Majesty."

Nolofinwë just shook his head. "My friend, you are mistaken. I am not...."

But the ellon was paying no attention, for he had run out into the square yelling, "The King has returned! The King has returned! Nolofinwë has returned to us!"

Ingwion grabbed Nolofinwë by the arm. "We need to get you out of here," he said and the Noldo gave him no argument.

They headed back the way they had come with Ingalaurë ahead of them, but they were foiled in their attempt to reach the arcade, for the ellon who had accosted them was still shouting the news that Nolofinwë had returned. Suddenly others were blocking their path, many of them crying out in surprise as they, too, recognized Nolofinwë. Ingwion attempted to shield his cousin who was now beginning to panic as people pressed all around them, wishing to touch him, to acknowledge him, and he could see Ingalaurë also becoming more and more agitated, his expression fearful.

"Stand back!" Ingwion shouted, trying to force a path through the crowd. "Let us through. How dare you importune us in this manner. Are you Elves or orcs?"

A few who were closer heard him and tried to comply but the crowd was now grown too large and most never heard him over their own voices as they shouted, some apparently disputing with their neighbors whether it truly was Nolofinwë standing before them or someone who just looked liked him. Indeed not a few altercations broke out when various knots of people began arguing one way or the other as to the truth of the matter. The only direction left open to them was to their left and Ingwion grabbed both Reborn and pushed them against the wall of a shop where musical instruments were being sold and stood in front of them.

"I want to go home," wailed Ingalaurë, crouching against the wall. "Make them stop, make them stop."

"And never a Maia around when you really need one," Ingwion muttered in disgust. He stole a glance at Nolofinwë who had his arms around Ingalaurë, his face white and his eyes full of terror and felt himself growing angry where before he’d only been annoyed. He turned back to face the still clamoring crowd. "Enough!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, sounding and looking very much like his atar at that moment. "Be silent!"

Such was the force of his command that those in the front actually went still, now looking ashamed. Others, further back, were still clamoring for a view of the king, but now their neighbors were attempting to hush them. Ingwion ignored them, his expression one of fury and those directly facing him were unable to look at him.

"For shame!" he called out. "You call yourselves Elves? You are naught but rabble. Now go your way and allow us to leave in peace."

"But it’s Nolofinwë!" someone shouted. "The King has returned!"

"You have a king and it is not I."

Ingwion turned to see Nolofinwë straightening, his expression reminding him of Finwë at his most imperious and silently rejoiced to see, not a frightened Reborn, but a Prince of the House of Finwë standing there.

"You are the eldest," the same person cried out. "To you belongs the crown."

"And my brother? What of him? Has he been so terrible a ruler that you would dismiss him so callously?"

There were sheepish looks among some in the crowd and a few attempted to leave the area but the press of bodies made it impossible.

"It matters not," another exclaimed. "You are the eldest of the House of Finwë. You are the Noldóran."

"No, I am not," Nolofinwë insisted. "I am but newly Reborn. I am not interested in usurping my brother’s titles. He is your King, for better or for worse. I have no desire to accept the crown. Now go, all of you, and leave us in peace."

"You heard him, people of Tirion. Disperse or be dispersed."

Ingwion looked up in relief to see Laurendil and Gilvagor pushing their way through the crowd, neither of them looking at all pleased.

"And who are you to tell us what to do?" one ellon demanded.

Laurendil stopped and gave him a cold smile. "I am your worst nightmare come true, friend, if you don’t do as you’ve been bid and be on your way." Then he looked about him, his expression even colder than before as he addressed the crowd. "Is your loyalty to your king so frivolous, so weak-willed that you would dismiss the one who brought you out of the shadows and into the light and gave you back your dignity as Noldor simply because another has come who might have a claim to the crown? I expected better from my fellow Noldor. Prince Nolofinwë," — and he stressed the title — "is newly released from Mandos. He’s a Reborn, in case that little detail slipped your minds. Do you truly want a Reborn ruling over you? Would you allow a child of twenty to dictate to you?"

"I’m not that young," Nolofinwë protested.

Laurendil turned and gave him a smile. "My apologies." He gave the Reborn a short bow before addressing the crowd again. "I stand corrected. Would you allow a child of twenty-five to dictate to you?"

"Lord Irmo said I was thirty," Nolofinwë said with a huff, then turned to Ingalaurë. "These Once-born are so boring, aren’t they?" Ingalaurë nodded vigorously but said nothing, not quite over his fright. Nolofinwë gave him a hug as he turned to Ingwion. "This is no fun anymore, Ingwi. Let’s go get some fried fruit pastries. You promised us a treat if we were good. We’ve been good, haven’t we?"

Everyone listening to him went still. Some actually looked shocked, seeing this proud Noldo who had once ruled as the Noldóran’s regent and then led his people in exile sounding like a petulant child; others simply looked embarrassed.

Ingwion recognized what Nolofinwë was doing and nodded. "Yes, you’ve been very good. Arafinwë will be pleased to know how good you’ve been. As soon as these good people allow us to leave, we’ll go get your treat."

"I told Glorfindel not to eat all the fried fruit pastries before we got there," Laurendil said with a grin.

"Then we had better hurry," Ingwion said. "You know Glorfindel is not known for his patience."

As they were speaking, slowly, reluctantly, people began drifting away, some with backward glances. The ellon who had started everything was still there, frowning. "You are the eldest," he snarled. "You should be king, Reborn or not."

Before any of the others could respond, Nolofinwë was on the ellon, grabbing him by the placket of his tunic and pushing him up against the wall of the music shop. His expression was one of righteous anger and his voice was low and menacing. "Friend, you speak treason. My brother, by the grace of the Valar, is Noldóran and I would have it no other way. Now, be on your way before I have you arrested for disturbing the King’s Peace." He pushed the ellon from him, making him stumble. No one offered to help him up. Nolofinwë apparently had already dismissed the troublemaker from his mind for he turned to the others with a smile. "Let’s go see if Glorfindel has eaten all the fried fruit pastries."

The others nodded and without a backward glance they made their way back through the arcade and down the street to the tavern where they found the others anxiously waiting. There were looks of relief on their faces when they saw them approaching and there were demands for explanations. Ingwion gave them a terse account of what had happened as they sat around the table.

"You laid it a bit thick there," he said to Nolofinwë with a grin, "whining like a ten-year-old about getting a treat."

Nolofinwë just laughed. "It worked though."

"You know people are not going to take you seriously now," Laurendil pointed out. "You may have damaged your image more than you think."

"I did it as much for Findecáno as for myself," Nolofinwë countered. "He, too, was king and many will respond to him as those people responded to seeing me. By acting more elflingish than I needed to, I’ve given him protection against the fools who will want him to take up the kingship."

"Being a king is boring," Findecáno said with a whine in his voice. "You can’t swing in trees or have any fun at all."

The Once-born all rolled their eyes but then they caught Findecáno’s smirk and realized what he was about and they started laughing.

"Well, now that that’s settled, let’s eat," Glorfindel suggested and they all agreed, with Gilvagor signaling the serving elleth.

"You didn’t get a chance to buy a wedding gift," Ingwion said to Nolofinwë after they had given the elleth their orders.

Nolofinwë shrugged. "Perhaps I can find something later."

"Do we tell Arafinwë about what happened?" Gilvagor asked then.

"We’d better," Glorfindel said and when the others gave him enquiring looks, he nodded. "If I know Atar Arafinwë, he probably already knows what’s happened. Nothing escapes his notice. Findaráto and I are convinced he must be half-Maia. It’s uncanny how he just seems to know things. If we don’t tell him, he’ll tell us, and I, for one, do not wish to be on the other end of his telling."

"Násië!" Ingwion exclaimed with some fervency and everyone else laughed as the serving elleth came with their drinks. The rest of the time was spent in congenial conversation and when they finished their meal and made their way back to the palace they were all in a better frame of mind.

****

Násië: (Quenya) Amen.





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