Dancing In The Dark by Grundy  

Rumors & Other Lies

This chapter incorporates the Kids These Days prompts "whine and complain" and "bad language". 

It was one thing to plot with Ingo. It was another thing to actually put his idea into action.

Thrashing out with Ingo which of his impressively wild or scandalous ideas hit the right balance of believable and repeatable was only the first step.

Actually, it was the second step. He made sure Ingo wrote that letter first. Artanis wouldn’t kill him, but he wasn’t as confident she wouldn’t remove body parts if she thought he’d betrayed her beloved brother to his death.

Only after that did he entertain Ingo’s notions on what rumors might be suitable. Even those Curufinwë added to his list would be run by his brother first.

Tyelko had an unmatched way with rumor – partly because his reputation made him much more of a meathead than he actually was. If someone overheard him saying something about the rest of them, it generally didn’t occur to them he was clever enough to be making it up.

But the other part of Tyelko’s skill was an almost uncanny nose for what would set tongues wagging without being so wild or so transparently false as to be discounted out of hand. Curufinwë fully expected that half of what he had on his list would be discarded once his older brother reviewed it.

Then he had to argue Ingo out of any attempt to touch the rumors. Not only did he need Ingo not to be seen starting them, he wanted Ingo above the fray – not repeating, confirming, or denying.

“The whole point, Ingo, is that you’re supposed to march off with only those so loyal there’d be no shaking them.”

“But if I can’t say anything even to them…”

“If you trust Edrahil to hold his tongue and not be drawn, then by all means, let him in on the plan. But you know perfectly well the more people you tell, the greater the risk of it coming to light that it’s all a ruse. And then we’re back to square one, with a bonus of some people being angry with the lot of us.”

“If they’re angry, they’re not going to try to come with me.”

“Ingo, most of your people would take you nobly sacrificing you good name to save them as all the more reason to stick with you, and you know it. What’s more, I’m trying to do this without you having to actually tell any lies – you’re not very practiced at it, and more likely to give the game away than fan the flames.”

“But what about a pained denial? I can’t believe people would give any credence to such stories about me…”

Ingo put on a sad, bewildered expression.

“No. The danger there is it might work and stop everything in its tracks.”

“Oh, fine, if you insist. But I do want to tell Edrahil – I’ll swear him to secrecy if you think it necessary. You’re taking most of what fun I hoped to have in this away from me.”

“You’re going to guilt me non-stop until you leave on this fool’s errand, aren’t you?” Curufinwë sighed.

“Quite likely,” Ingo said cheerfully.

“Focus on planning your departure, and whatever it is you mean to do once you’re safely away.”

Seeing Ingo about to say something, Curufinwë held up a hand.

“Don’t tell me what you have in mind. In fact, don’t tell anyone.”

“I should probably tell Beren!”

“Tell him in private right before you depart. Or better still, once you’re already on the road. You mean to take on the Enemy. The less talk about how it is you intend to do it, the more likely it is you actually get within sight of your goal.”

Ingo’s smile was slightly melancholy. Curufinwë almost asked, but decided he didn’t want to know.

If Ingo was walking off to his death knowing it came long before Beren got anywhere near a Silmaril, it would not make things any easier on the rest of them.

---

Then there was explaining it to Tyelko.

Curufinwë laid it out for Tyelko the next morning over breakfast, safe in the knowledge that Tyelpë had been up early and was now ensconced in his workshop. The only one likely to have any success trying to drag him out of there before dinner was Findë.

Tyelko listened in utter silence. And then stayed quiet long enough that Curufinwë was beginning to feel it was unnatural. (Yes, his older brother could be still and silent for hours at a time on a hunt or out tracking something. But not, as a rule, at meals.)

He was just debating sending for Ingo when Tyelko sighed.

“Would this make more sense if I were fully awake?” he asked, contemplating the toast and marmalade as though he expected it would have a sensible answer for him.

“I thought you were awake.”

“I did too, but evidently not, since you’re sitting here explaining how we’re going to spread rumors so bad that his people are going to turn on Prince Sunshine Cheerful Son of Blameless who has never done anything worse in his life than go along with some of your stupider ideas.”

“Such as coming to Beleriand?” Curufinwë asked acidly. “We’re reliably informed that was quite wrong.”

“Pfft. Namo doesn’t know everything. And I wasn’t kidding. Ingo has always been popular, and I don’t just mean with his people here. How often did you hear anyone grumble about him in Tirion?”

“No one grumbled about any Arafinwion,” Curufinwë snorted.

“Oh, they did about Ango, and even about your favorite little brat Artanis.”

“Only when she was making matters plain to social climbers.”

“All the same. There was grumbling. And if Aiko hadn’t spent as much time as he could in Valimar or Alqualondë, there probably would have been some about him, too. There was always something doing the rounds about one of us or another. Except Ingo.”

“Good, that should make what we’re about to set out all the more enticing.”

“All the more dangerous, you mean.”

“That’s why I’m giving you veto power. If something’s too out there, tell us and we won’t do it.”

“I’m telling you the entire thing is too out there!”

Curufinwë crossed his arms.

“Fine, how would you get Ingo’s people to let him march off with the minimum of fellow corpses to be?”

Tyelko looked like he’d taken a bit of an unripe lemon.

“There’s really no talking him out if it?” he asked plaintively.

“None whatsoever. He’s got it in his head that this death mission is what Ulmo’s been saving him for, so it’s either go die like a good boy doing what Ulmo wanted, or die like – ”

“Us?” Tyelko asked wryly. “In the full knowledge of how badly he screwed up?”

“Something like that.”

“Varda’s left tit, what a mess.”

“Tyelko!”

“What? It’s not like she’s going to hear it. They told us they weren’t listening to us, in case you’d forgotten.”

“Wonderful. Maybe don’t invoke body parts of the Vala who hallowed the blasted jewels?”

“You’d be happier if I took Yavanna or Nessa’s name in vain?”

“I notice you leave Vana and Nienna out of it.”

“I like Vána. And Nienna might actually still listen. She’s the lady of pity, after all.”

“Stop trying to sidetrack me.”

“Do we really have to do this?” Tyelko sighed.

“Do you see any better way?”

“We could go with the boy instead of Ingo.”

“And ensure he fails? To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well, remember?”

“But…” Tyelko looked crestfallen. “I really am more expendable than Ingo. I’d be a great distraction. And it’s not like we’ve got better things to look forward to.”

Huan barked sharply.

“You didn’t start the day with wine, did you?” Curufinwë demanded.

“No more than you did.”

“Good. Pull yourself together. The last thing we need is your hound getting all worked up and the kids all piling in here wanting to know what’s going on.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Tyelko muttered.

Curufinwë waited, and tried his best not to roll his eyes as he did.

“We could just tell them I’ve gone barking mad and you’re packing them all off to Círdan so as not to witness it,” Tyelko suggested hopefully.

“Which would still leave the Ingo problem,” Curufinwë said patiently. “That is to say, the problem of making sure Ingo doesn’t take the better part of his kingdom with him to Mandos.”

Tyelko’s shoulder’s sagged.

“Fine, rumors. But I don’t like it, any of it.”

“I’ve already said I’m sorry about needing to send the kids away. I know you’ll miss them.”

“I will, but I’m more worried about the rumor part. I don’t think you realize how easily this could get out of hand.”

“Relax, I had Ingo write Artanis. She’s not going to try to kill you again.”

“I was more worried about you,” his brother muttered as he bent to look at the list of potential hot gossip.

“Or me either.”

By evening, Tyelko had narrowed the list considerably. He’d pointed out that they didn’t actually need to set off all that many whispers – once rumor really got going, it would multiply all on its own, with perhaps the occasional nudge. But too much at once and the cleverer among the Nargothrondrim would start to wonder too quickly what was going on.

“You say you mean us to be caught and thrown out eventually,” Tyelko told him. “But you want to see Resto well established first. “You sow this many wild tales, and you may well be tossed out on your behind before Ingo is out of sight. Two stories, three max. Then you sit back and let time and discontent work. I don’t know about the former, but there’s certainly plenty of the latter floating around.”

“It better be three,” Curufinwë said sharply. “My deal with Ingo was he could pick a third of the proposed rumors.”

“Tell him he gets to pick one, and it better be one of the ones I already said would work. Otherwise I’m going with him no matter what you two idiots think.”

Curufinwë was unsurprised to see that among the options on the very short list Tyelko handed him was one that Gildor was Ingo’s by more than just adoption. That one he’d known perfectly well would fall on fertile soil, even if it did discomfit him on multiple counts.

Tyelko eyed him knowingly.

“Thought you’d squirm about that one, for all you put it on the list in the first place. Not sure who you’ll have to grovel harder to, the boy or Amarië. It’s not as if Ingo can write either of them to tell them to ignore whatever they hear.”

“With any luck, neither of them will hear about it unless it’s from people returning from Mandos,” Curufinwë snorted. “I mean to have the kids sent off before the rumors get too loud.”

“For someone so smart, little brother, you are by times very stupid.”

Curufinwë scowled, but whatever it was Tyelko had in mind, he didn’t mean to rile him too badly. If he’d wanted to do that, he’d have used his father-name.

“I’m still awaiting your better idea with bated breath.”

“I’ll let you know just as soon as I have one. Doesn’t mean yours won’t still be a disaster.”

“It might well be. But we just might have a fighting chance with this, considering it’s not beginning well.”

“I don’t think you can game Namo like that, little brother.”

“I’m not gaming anything.”

“Keep telling yourself that, and maybe it’ll make it true,” was Tyelko’s parting shot before he and Huan headed off to a training session with Finduilas.

---

Ingo was less surprised than Curufinwë had been at how ornery Tyelko was being.

“I didn’t expect him to be pleased. Did you?”

“I expected him to be useful.”

“Curvo, you’ve barely stopped complaining about my decision, why should he like it any better?”

“He doesn’t have to like it. He does have to stop whining about it incessantly and predicting that it will go badly.”

“Good luck with that,” Ingo snickered. “Now then, how long did you expect to need for your rumors to work? I didn’t mean to be off right away, but Beren being mortal, we can’t wait too long. A month, perhaps two at most.”

“One should more than do,” Curufinwë said thoughtfully. “The idea is to bring it to a head swiftly. If you can send the kids away maybe halfway through, once the rumors are really taking hold, that should give the one about you wanting to send everyone’s children away some teeth.”

“Maybe some people will actually send their children away,” Ingo said hopefully. “If you’re right, the more that go, the better.”

“I doubt it. Folk may see the logic in them being safer once they’re at the Havens, but anyone nervous enough to consider it in earnest will probably also be nervous enough to consider how many leagues it is from here to Eglarest and decide it’s better to stay put unless the situation gets worse.”

“I’m mildly surprise you’re not more nervous about that.”

“As long as Merilin and that Sindarin guard of hers go with them, I’m not. They know their business, and she knows the route well. She’s unlikely to be caught out.”

Ingo digested that quietly.

“Yes, I suppose there is that. Should I send to Círdan now so he knows to expect them?”

Curufinwë had to think on that. On the one hand, messages could be intercepted. On the other, it would be better to have a place prepared for them…

“Yes. Make it a one-way trip for the messengers.”

“Still trying to save as many as you can?” Ingo asked gently.

“Yes!” Curufinwë exclaimed. “Besides, that should reinforce to Círdan the seriousness of the situation. We haven’t been able to send news as regularly this last year. Even if the messengers tell him all’s well here, the mere fact that you told them to stay put once they get there is information of a sort. Merilin can explain most of the rest once she’s there. Círdan needs the warning – when this place is evacuated, the Falas is the obvious place to go. Or had you intended Resto should lead the people to Cape Balar or the Mouths of Sirion?”

Ingo frowned, staring at the map.

“You’re right enough that the Falas are closest. Círdan could spread people between Brithombar, Eglarest, and Barad Nimras easily. But that feels a bit like putting all our eggs in one basket, don’t you think?”

“I make it three baskets.”

“Three baskets that could easily be struck in on thrust, be it from this direction or down from Nevrast.”

“For them to come from Nevrast, Hithlum would have fallen.”

Ingo held his eyes for a long moment.

“You expect it to fall.”

“Sirion north of the Lithir is already under the Enemy’s control. He’s pushing hard to take as much as he can on the western bank as fast as he can. They’re not to the source of the Lithir yet, but when reach it… Well, the mountains won’t be much protection for Finno anymore, will they?”

No, not when the Enemy would be able to use them to encircle Mithrim on three sides. Finno was harried enough with just the part of them that ran up against Sirion open to orc sorties. If his southern flank was vulnerable, too, Finno would have to eventually retreat to the coast and bring his to the Falas as well.

At which point, if all the remaining Noldor outside of Himring and Amon Ereb were concentrated in the Falas…

“I see your point about one basket,” he sighed. “So. Cape Balar or the mouths of Sirion?”

“The Mouths would be better. That’s what I mean to counsel Resto to plan for, unless you have some strong argument against it. Ulmo’s protection would be strongest there – and even if all the rivers coming down from the north ran dry at their source, we would still have time to build boats.”

“I hope either Círdan’s found some islands further out he hasn’t told us about or Balar is a good deal larger than it looks on the maps.”

“Balar will be more than enough,” Ingo said quietly.

That had the ring of more foresight. How had it all gone so wrong?

“Have you told the kids yet?”

“No more than you’ve said anything to Tyelpë,” Ingo smirked. “I thought we’d better warn Resto and Merilin first. At least, the parts we can warn them about. You didn’t say, but I expect Resto will be surprised with the rest by the whisper campaign?”

Curufinwë nodded.

Resto, as far as he was concerned, was the one most likely to give the game away if he knew the full plan. He wasn’t averse to privately warning Merilin if he could convince her to withhold key parts from her husband. She had good sense. But Resto had the terrible combination of Ingo’s basic honesty and a gentleness that was probably from Indis.

He would have been a wonderful prince in Tirion, but in Beleriand, the best one could do was keep him out of the way of trouble. He’d managed at Sirion, but only just.

Actually, now Curufinwë thought more carefully, that honestly of Resto’s could be made useful. Let him furiously deny the rumors – while Ingo’s silence made people wonder all the more. Most people would read Ingo not saying anything as a sign there was no smoke without a fire somewhere. Tongues would wag all the more.

“When did you mean to break it to Resto that you’re leaving him in charge?” Curufinwë asked.

“I suppose I shouldn’t put it off. Tonight after dinner. Did you want to be there?”

“No, I suspect you’ll have trouble enough with him without me or Tyelko.”

“Meaning you’re going to have Tyelko start the first round of whispers?” Ingo asked shrewdly.

“And have a chat with Merilin while Resto is safely occupied. What can we contrive to keep the kids busy?”

“I thought Tyelpë had some improvement to Findë’s armor he wanted to show off?”

“Does he?”

“So Gildor said.”

“I’ll contrive to have him invite both of them to his workshop. That should buy both of us at least a quarter of an hour uninterrupted.”

“Longer than that, I should hope,” Ingo said grimly. “I’m likely to need several hours. Resto isn’t going to understand any more than Gildor will.”

“I’ll ask Merilin to run interference once we’re through.”

Ingo nodded, suddenly looking tired.

“How do you do it, Curvo?” he asked haggardly.

“Do what?”

“Send your son away. You might see yours again, but I know I won’t see mine. Not in Beleriand, at least.”

Curufinwë looked Ingo in the eye.

“You remind yourself very firmly that you are doing what you can to keep him alive. Crowns and kingdoms don’t matter. His survival does. More than anything else. Oathbound or not, you can still do that much.”

“Is it enough?”

Ingo’s question was so soft Curufinwë could barely hear it.

“It has to be. We have no other choice.”