A/N: This is a story I wrote for my best friend's birthday. Despite the uncommon pairing, I decided to post it. Please let me know whether you liked or hated it, and why. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!
Disclaimer: I would be a lot richer if I owned Lord of the Rings.
1 A clinging ache
All was silent. The absence of sound made the darkness seem like an impenetrable fortress, its invisible defenses holding against the sadness that was threatening to flood it from the inside as well as the outside. For beyond the time and space of Arda, tears were falling incessantly.
Nienna gazed over the large body of water without truly seeing anything. Her eyes, which were normally the bright blue of a cloudless sky, were now a stormy gray. Salty drops trailed a path down her face only to be accepted into the ancient lake. They were illuminated for the briefest second by the light of the stars before disappearing into the as of yet unmeasured depths.
For days the youngest of Eru Ilúvatar's children had sat on the same rock, not bothering to move. She was not hindered by the need for food or rest; the need to lament her own mistake was too large to even let her think about such unimportant things. Not even her brothers, whom she adored, had been able to persuade her to eat when they last visited her. Not even the gasp of breath at the state she was in had been enough to make her do more than drink the water they had offered her.
In her mind there was no doubt that she could not continue like this. Upon her arrival in this world, her father had given her the possibility to ignore pain, cold and hunger for extended periods of time, longer than Dwarves, Men or even Elves. But even the Ainur needed to consume food. That did not mean that she would give in before she was betrayed by her own body.
She snorted at her own choice of words; she was all too acquainted with betrayal. The memory of the pain it caused was so embedded in her mind that she woke with it and fell asleep with it. Betrayal had become her ever present companion since that faithful day so many years ago.
Even though Nienna was not susceptible to the cold, she shivered at the thought of what had happened at the night of the full moon so long ago. Melkor had suggested they meet at the very rock she was now sitting on. They had been at each other's side throughout many season, five years had passed since the day they had confessed their love for one another. That day would have been the beginning of their sixth year together.
Of course none of the other Valar had understood why she had given her heart to Melkor. They had been distrustful of him since the very beginning. Her brothers had begged her to take another, to be careful and not let her heart be broken. Varda had pleaded with her to see the evil in his heart, Manwë had told her that the road she had chosen would lead to nothing but pain. Vairë had merely shaken her head and said that Melkor was not the one she needed by her side.
Nienna had ignored them all; why shouldn't she? She was after all one of the most powerful amongst the Valier. She had been granted the possibility to make her own decisions. She had met Melkor that night, beside an ancient oak tree. His hands had been as gentle as she had imagined they would be as he guided her to the ground. Long they spoke of the past and the future, and the more he spoke the more she realized she wanted to experience the future with him beside her. Only years later would she realize that it had been the first time he would betray her.
It came as no surprise to the others, as she had lost her heart to him long before that. But the whispers only increased. There was word of dark thoughts biding their time inside Melkor's mind. Of threats as of yet unuttered but always on his lips. As was the right thing to do, she stood by her lover. And for four years it seemed that their love would be stronger than the barely hidden looks and the whispered words. In his arms, listening to him saying that he loved her, she was content.
But when the fifth year of their relationship began, Melkor became more distant. His once warm embrace began to feel forced; it was no longer the source of comfort it once was, instead it was by that time a meaningless gesture. The Dark One was no longer as beautiful. The shimmer as of a thousand dark gems catching the light of the sun and moon disappeared. His nails grew to be sharp weapons. He no longer smiled, only grimaced. His nearly black eyes no longer twinkled.
The rumours gradually grew stronger, yet she refused to believe them. She refused to see what those around her could no longer ignore. There were still enough signs that he loved her, albeit barely.
During their last night together, however, she had seen the error of her ways. Melkor had taken her for a walk underneath the star-strewn skies, wanting to enjoy her company and needing to talk about something. Her heart had fluttered, believing that he might ask her to bind with him. It would explain why he had behaved so oddly as of late.
But when they were in one of the darkest corners of the lands around the home of the Valar and Valier, he began to speak of power. He told her it had been given to them to use. She answered that she was well aware of that, not knowing where the conversation would take them. He questioned whether that was really so. Her heart began to pound harder at those words, her demand to clarify what he meant did not sound as powerful as she had wanted.
It was then that he told her that he believed the Valar and their female counterparts were using their powers in the wrong way. Why, he asked, should they use their powers to bring to life trees whose fruits would never be theirs to eat? Why should they restore order to a land they would never roam and that would soon be the subject to the disturbances of Elves, Men and even Dwarves? Together, they could overthrow the others and take what was rightfully theirs, he whispered.
She could not believe her ears. All of the whispered words came back, and a part of her recognized them to be true; he had indeed only wanted her powers, not her. None of it had been real. But another part of her had wanted to give him one last chance to prove her wrong. So she had offered him a choice: either he chose her, or he pursued his dreams of power.
Melkor chose power. All her strength was drained as he made the decision, she fell down to her knees. She had fought her fear for so long that she was too weak to even beg him to change his mind. She did not even fight when Melkor drew a blade and promised to make her stay by his side.
Irmo, her youngest brother, arrived just in time to stop Melkor from drawing all of the blood he needed to bind her to him. He took her home with nothing more than a thin line of blood trickling down her arm.
Or at least so he thought. Nienna did not speak to anyone for almost two months. She hardly ate and drank, her already pale skin grew even whiter. She became thin, too thin. Her legs refused to carry her, the strength would not return to her after it had fled her when she had needed it most. And she trusted no one beside both of her brothers.
Fortunately, she managed to turn away from the road to destruction she had set foot onto. Slowly, her appetite returned. Her hair regained its usual shine, as did her skin. She was no longer as fragile and unnaturally pale. Her brothers were relieved to see her healthy once again, as were her friends.
But they soon discovered that Nienna was not at all done grieving. Until the moment Melkor broke her heart, she had been joyous, a bright presence despite being called She who Weeps. Now, she lived up to her name and shed numerous tears. She began to frequent Námo's halls, where she sought out the souls who were the most distressed and helped Námo to make them whole again.
And every year, there would be periods during which no one would be able to make her eat or speak. They were the anniversaries of the day their relationship began and ended. For thousands of years things had continued like this.
This though made her return to the present; yes, things had been like this for far longer than she wished to remember, and the position she was in today made her admit to herself that nothing had as of yet changed. And probably wouldn't be changing any time soon.
Lightly shaking her head, she tried to ward off the feeling of impending doom that threatened to overwhelm her. Every day she had wished that Melkor would disappear from her life, that she would wake up and find he was never coming back. Yet he had never had the courtesy to fulfill those dreams.
Suddenly, she was brought back to the present when Námo stepped in front of her. Irmo was right behind him, less frightening but every bit as powerful as his older brother. They waited patiently for her eyes to focus on them before each taking one of her hands in their own.
"Eru Ilúvatar had sent us here to inform you he wants to see you. Please, Nienna, rise. Please," Námo said.
It took a few second for his words to penetrate the fog that was clouding her thoughts; she lost almost every connection to reality whenever she was trying to stay afloat in this particular sea of sadness. Slowly, though, the meaning of the words became clear.
Nienna nodded. Swallowing convulsively, she allowed her brothers to pull her to her feet. It was only because of the strong hold they had on her hands that she did not fall to the ground, as her legs were no longer accustomed to carrying her weight after sitting down for nearly a week. The world spun a little as she took her first step.
"Come, sister," Irmo whispered, gently squeezing her hand. There was encouragement in his tone as well as a small hint of fear.
Breathing in and out a couple of times eased the dizziness. From experience she knew that her physical strength would also return, but that it would take several days for her body to be free of the consequences of her journey into darkness.
"You can move. I can walk now," she hoarsely told her brothers. Her voice was almost unrecognizable. It was raw, fragile and barely more than a whisper. It sounded far more like nails scratching over iron than it ever had before.
When Irmo opened his mouth to protest, Námo shook his head. It was obvious the elder of the three siblings was eager to get to their father as soon as possible. There was no fear in his eyes, only acceptance. Nienna was very aware that Námo's wife, Vairë, knew all there was to know apart from what Eru had not yet chosen to reveal. He might know something no one else was aware of at this point.
Under different circumstances, Nienna would have asked him about his knowledge. She was a curious and intelligent creature, after all. But she was too fatigued. And truth be told, she had had enough of it. This everlasting pain had to come to an end or it would drive her insane. Maybe that was what Eru was about to do, help her put an end to this maddening pain.
Under Námo's guidance they began to walk again, silently putting one foot in front of the other. There was no need to speak, no need to even think. Their feet knew where to carry them, they only had to lift them and put them back down.
It seemed as if they continued to do this endlessly. Because of the darkness they were in it was hard to see any difference in the landscape around them. The grass beneath their feat rustled in the same way over the entire distance, there were trees and plants everywhere. Even the scents were the same for the biggest part of the walk towards Eru's house.
Finally, the air began to feel different. It felt purer, there was a melody being carried on it that inexplicably drew them towards the only stone structure in these parts: the house of Eru, where he lived with all those he had created before Arda had come into existence. The air curled around them, welcoming them home.
The long walk had tired Nienna. The stone were oddly out of shape, their edges blurring and their forms overlapping with one another. She knew very well that it was only a trick her mind was playing because of the fatigue, but the Fëanturi's sister was annoyed by it anyway. Life had been unkind to her for far too long, and she was through with it. She grinded her teeth, pushing on. Despite her stubbornness and her desire to stay upright, she stumbled.
"Námo, stop!" Irmo called out as his brother ignored it and pulled their sister further towards the gates, anger clearly audible in his voice. His eyes burned brighter than normal, as if the dark irises had been set alight.
Irmo was always the one most easily worried about his brethren's safety. For some reason the middle child always knew what to say when his elder brother and sister were on the verge of voicing yet another disagreement. If either one of them needed someone to listen to them, he was there. During the past years, he had even managed to help his sister and brother discover some common ground between them. It had made the three of them rather inseparable.
"She cannot go on like this. At least have the courtesy to carry her or to let me do it if you do not wish to wait," Irmo reasoned.
More than hearing it Nienna could feel Námo release a shuddering breath. He loosened his hold on her and lifted her chin with his hand so he could look right into her eyes. Those grey orbs were kind, far less scary than Irmo's in fact. They held love, a proud gleam and worry, as they most often did.
What he was looking for she did not know, but Nienna let him. In spite of the disagreement they had had when they were younger, Námo had always been the one she trusted most; Irmo was a close second, but even though he was her brother she would not deny there was something strange about him at certain times.
Suddenly, Námo spoke again. "I will carry her." The words were spoken softly, as if they were meant to put her at ease. And they did. Her brother was strong enough to carry her, to protect her in some way until she was in front of Eru himself. What she needed to be protected from she did not know, but there was no need to find out.
Nienna closed her eyes and buried her face against Námo's shoulder as soon as he had lifted her. Grabbing a hold of his clothing, she tried her best not to shiver because of the cold she should not even have been able to notice. Never before had she been so convinced that something was about to happen, something she had no control over whatsoever.
"Everything will be alright in the end, Nienna. I promise," Námo's voice suddenly washed over her. The words were spoken so softly that she was certain Irmo could not have heard them. Like all that was happening, they did not make much sense. Yet they calmed her, warmed her.
Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. Most Men and Elves were convinced that his face was a cold, unreadable mask that he never failed to keep in place, but that could not have been further from the truth; there was never anything but sympathy, kindness and warmth. However, Death was a powerful entity to them, and that should never change.
She had wanted to say something when she opened her eyes, but she could no longer remember what. It was no longer important either, so she simply extended one of her hands to pull Irmo closer. Námo was right. Everything would be alright eventually. As long as she had her family.
Irmo tucked a strand of her hair behind her elegantly pointed ear. The gesture reminded her of the days when she was naught more than a scared young creature who did not understand the grandeur and splendor around her. Her brothers had taught her, had helped her grow.
Her thoughts wandered as Námo used the strength of his will to open the heavy wooden doors. Through darkness and light they wandered, through memories of nights spent learning about the skies, the rivers, the flowers and the stars and through memories of her first visit to her eldest brother's halls. She remembered Irmo patiently explaining the magic of music, something Nienna was very fond of. Music was as natural a way of communicating as talking was among the Valar, after all.
But the most important reason why Nienna loved to sing was that she was not at all good at handling emotions. Even as one of the Ainur it was difficult to express how she was feeling. During the first year of her relationship with Melkor she had often resorted to singing when she was unsure how to say what she was feeling. Slowly, she had become more confident, yet music was still the means of communicating she felt most comfortable with.
And her voice was beautiful too, even though she was saying so herself. Ulmo often told her that to him her songs were not so different from the songs of the sea. The sound of the waves hugging the shores or washing over the rocks beneath the surface was in the sound of her voice, according to him.
With her face still hidden in her brother's tunic, she smiled. Ulmo was her best friend. She was close to all of Eru's children, but Ulmo seemed to understand what drove her to do the things she did when no one else could comprehend her motives. They shared a love of silence and water and often swam together. Or at least they had done so before Melkor had captured her heart.
Now that she came to think about it, Melkor had cost her quite a few things. Her friendship with Ulmo had suffered under his unwillingness to share, though he had not been able to separate them completely. He had taken away six years of her life that she could never get back. He had broken her heart, had scarred her soul.
By the way her brother tightened his hold on her and began to tread more carefully, she could tell that they had reached the stairs towards Ilúvatar's most private chambers. Only when there were urgent matters to be dealt with were they allowed to enter them. Else, they could speak with him in the western corner of his gardens.
Why was it that her actions had worried him enough to invite them there? He was her creator, her father, but that did not mean he ought to worry about everything she did. Surely she was by now wise enough to lead her life as she saw fit? Then again, it was a parent's right to worry about their offspring.
Nienna noticed the throbbing in her head, which had started yesterday, had still not abided. Strangely enough she had not paid any attention to the small discomfort until now. That was the way it always was: she would ignore everything and let the memories assault her in the hope of finally being able to put them to rest.
Unfortunately, it seemed that she would need some more time to do that. It became a little easier to not be weighed down by those images, yet they still hindered her in many a way. She did not easily trust, she had drawn up some heavily guarded walls around her heart and she had become so quiet and withdrawn that it was easier being on her own than dealing with the difficulties having a conversation brought with it.
They reached the top of the flight of stairs. Irmo, who had let go of her hand to enable Námo to climb the stairs more easily, now appeared by her side again. He did not look at her, though. His eyes were fixed on the door at the end of the hallway they had stepped into.
These doors were wooden as well, but they were less heavy than the ones downstairs. The silver lock and key dangling from them were absent from the other door, though. Nienna had never understood why Eru had done that; there was no need to have a lock on any door here. They were all friends with the best intentions. And it was even stranger after encountering a door that could not be locked first. But she had given up on trying to understand Eru. His mind was far more complex than that of her youngest brother, and Irmo's was already far more complex than their fellow Valar's minds.
Irmo made to knock before pushing the doors open, but he had not even raised his hand when Eru's voice already called out to them.
"Enter," was the one word he uttered. In it, there was such strength that any lesser being would have fallen down onto their knees. Yet the Valar had come to understand that his bark was worse than his bite, as Men would say. Eru often raised his voice when they did something he believed to be incorrect or unjust, but he hardly ever punished them.
Námo carried her inside, but lowered her to the ground as soon as the doors began to close behind them. The reason why was obvious: all of the Kings and Queens of the Valar had gathered; he did not want them to think she was weak. She shook her head almost imperceptibly. Her brothers never seemed to see that she could take care of herself and that it really did not matter what the others thought of her.
She shrugged of the hand Irmo placed on her shoulder; she would walk towards Eru alone. After all, she would have to stand in front of him by herself. Her knees felt wobbly, she was well aware that she was shaking. But she made it eventually, and Eru gave her all the time she needed.
As soon as she was in front of him, he began to speak. She had expected as much, so the question he asked her came as no surprise.
"Do you know why you are here?" he wanted to know. There was no malign intent in his words, he simply desired a straightforward answer. So that was what she gave him.
"I do. You fear for my wellbeing," she told him. It was obvious from the look in his eyes that she was right, and she was silently pleased with him for not hiding behind a mask. It made the conversation a lot more pleasant.
"I do, my daughter. You look as pale as the snow on Oiolossë, your hair no longer shines as brightly as it once did. But what speaks louder than any of the other signs of how badly you are coping, are your eyes. They are empty," he said.
Nienna staggered backwards as if she had been pushed. It was true that she had lost weight and was paler than before, but she had not yet noticed that her eyes were not the mirrors to her soul they usually were. Not even the reflective surface of the lake she had spent the last week by had told her that. It was the most shocking thing Eru could have told her.
She quickly stabilized herself. She had gotten herself into this situation, she ought to get herself out of it. Accepting what Eru told her was the beginning of that. Changing it was the next step. Taking steps in one direction or the other was what her life has consisted of for the last thousand years, she knew she could do it. She only hoped that it wouldn't be as it had been so far, being able to take one step forward only to be forced to take two steps back.
"Amin hiraetha, hîr nin. I should not have neglected my needs. You taught me better than that," she said.
And it was the truth. Eru had taught all of them that they could not help others if they did not help themselves first. He had taught them that they needed to keep up their own strength to be able to help others regain theirs. Not that they often meddled in the affairs of the firstborn or the second born, just often enough. Or at least that is what Eru would say when he sent one of them out to meddle.
"Indeed you should not have done that. But the past cannot be reversed, no matter how much we wish to do so. Which is why we are not here to discuss what has already happened, but what has yet to happen," he said.
They were here to discuss the future? Did that mean that Eru wanted her to stop spending a week in seclusion at the side of the lake every year? How odd that he should call her here to tell her that.
"Would I be allowed to ask what you mean by that, my Lord?" she asked, doing everything she could to sound more in control than she felt. Her heart was pounding; her throat was dry.
For a moment Eru did not speak. Instead, he gazed at her intently; those gray orbs were fixed on her with such intensity that a tingling sensation coursed through her. She too kept silent, allowing Ilúvatar to search for whatever it was he needed to find. There was no point in disturbing him, and she did not want to disrespect him in any way.
"I shall answer that question, as the answer is rather simple; I do not wish to see you put yourself through such an ordeal again next year. I had hoped you would finally come to your senses and end your dalliance with the darkness, but you did not. Therefore, I shall now break the bond between the two of you," he said.
Nienna's head reeled. Since when did she have a bond with the darkness? With sadness, yes, but with the darkness? Her need to be alone drove her to the lake where there was only starlight, yet that did not seem to be what her father was referring to. Asking him about it would not help her any further, though; it was obvious from his tone of voice that he would not answer her question.
"And how would you see that done, hîr nin?" she inquired, hoping that this was a question he would answer.
"I will send you on a quest to find the answers you need, daughter-mine. For no one else can find them for you," came the reply.
This was something else she had not been expecting. During all of the long years of her life he had been her instructor, aided by the other Ainur. And now he was telling her that he could not give her the answers she needed. And to which questions? Surely she would know if she had any, wouldn't she?
She shook her head for the second time since entering Eru's private chambers. He would do as he saw fit and bothering him would be of no use. She had learned that lesson long ago already. Focusing on Eru again she realized that he was waiting for her to speak.
"When will I be leaving?" she asked, instinctively knowing he was talking about a journey in the true sense of the word, physically as well as mentally.
"You will be leaving as soon as you have said your goodbyes. There is no knowing when you will return, after all," he spoke calmly.
Had she had the energy, she would have snorted at that last sentence. As it was, she let it pass her by. There were more important matters to be dealt with than being annoyed with Eru. She needed to say a few things to her brother before leaving.
She walked towards them, still a little out of balance. Their hands were hanging uselessly by their sides, but that changed as soon as she was close enough; she was pulled into a hug by the both of them at the same time. Their hold on her was tighter than it usually was, but she did not complain about it.
"Promise me you will look after each other," she whisperingly pleaded, her head buried between them so they would both hear her.
"We will," they said simultaneously, making her smile.
She let go of them, knowing that she should be going. And she did not like long goodbyes; they hurt too much, and she had suffered enough for multiple lifetimes as it was. She did not want to add to her own burden, or her brothers. They would miss her as much as she would miss them.
There was no need to say anything else. They had given her what she needed and she hoped she had been able to give them what they needed. It would be all they had until she returned.
"I am ready," she told Eru, who had watched the exchange between the siblings with rapt attention.
Ilúvatar smiled at her warmly. He gestured for her to come closer, which she did without complaining.
"Close your eyes, child of mine. When you open them, you will be at the beginning of your road," he said.
She obediently closed her eyes. As soon as she did, she felt herself fall into the darkness that was suddenly everywhere.
