From Shadows to Light
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Tolkien's world.
Author's Note: I promised a prequel/sequel to 'Song of the Waves' and 'Unnumbered Tears'. This is the first instalment.
The Doomsman of the Valar passes through the Halls of Waiting, listening to the whispers of those that dwelled within. The fëa of the Eldar are gradually decreasing in number; one by one, they are exchanging the quiet darkness of Mandos for the light and life of Valinor. There are those who have passed the time Lord Námo had decreed they should spend in his Halls, but have no desire to leave just yet; when they do leave, it is at their own desire as well as the will of Námo.
Sometimes, when a fëa leaves the Halls to be reimbodied, he or she will ask one thing of the Lord of Mandos. It is not unexpected, for he foretold it himself.*
"I ask mercy for them…"
"Please, forgive them as I have done."
Every time, they will ask with respect and a genuine plea from the heart. Every time, Námo will reply: "It is not yet their time." He is not cruel – only truthful.
xxx
"Is he here?"
"The living should not be the concern of the dead, child."
"I beg of thee, my lord, please tell me if my brother Maglor is in these Halls."
When Maedhros son of Fëanor was a prisoner in Angband and about to be hung by the right wrist from the black cliffs, he had not begged. He had not asked Morgoth or his minions for mercy once before he was rescued by his cousin.
"Maglor lives yet."
"Is he…how fares he?"
Námo is silent; Maedhros does not know how long it is before he speaks again.
"I can show you if you wish, Maedhros son of Fëanor. Do you wish to know?"
There is a moment of hesitation. Then: "…Yes."
…A solitary figure makes his way along the shore, watching as the waves as they crash on the rocks. Seabirds whirl above him, their cries nearly drowning out the sound of his voice. His singing is so beautiful yet every single note breaks upon the rocks, continuously filling the air with shards of pain…
If souls could weep, the floor would be awash with tears.
"My brother…"
To be continued. Reviews are very welcome!
*…your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. From "The Silmarillion", Chapter 9, Of the Flight of the Noldor.