Atalantë
"Why, Mairon, why?"
Eönwë, Chief of the Maiar, herald of the Elder King and bringer of hope to all, was lying on his knees, clutching his chest in grief.
All he had worked so hard to create had been utterly destroyed by the one he considered his brother. His little brother.
"Why, Mairon? Why did you not come back to us? Why did you take the path of darkness? Oh, Mairon, why?"
The questions were endless, and the tears began to flow from his normally piercing, set, stern blue eyes. Eönwë sufficed by repeating only the interrogative syllable. The question he wished to ask could not be expressed in words- it stemmed forth from the song of his fëa."
He was lying on the beaches of Valinor's eastern side, the sun-set horizon slowly darkening, the waters of Arda rising up into a great tidal wave, greater than any that had yet risen and any that would rise ere the Dagor Dagorath.
This was a beach oft frequented by Ossë, and therefore was imperfect, being asymmetrical. Yet, the sands changed with the tides, and had long covered any scars gouged by lightning-strikes summoned from the Maia's wrath.
Eönwë forced himself to look at the tsunami that threatened to engulf Valinor. He looked without fear- he might as well drown rather than see this out. He would hate to see this catastrophe out to the end.
He wondered why Eru himself had decided to mete out retribution, and such terrible retribution at that. Why did the entirety of Núménor need to be destroyed, along with its people, so that Mairon would sink with it?
Why did Mairon need to be destroyed so in the first place?
If only Lord Mânawenûz had allowed him to go to Núménor and sort it all out. He was sure his little brother would see sense. There was no need for all of this destruction, as he was sure all it needed was for him to hammer some sense into that Maia's excessively stubborn, thick skull…
The waters rose and hammered against an invisible barrier. Not a drop fell on Eönwë and the beach. The Valar had created a shield of might to guard Valinor against the onslaught. The Pelóri protected the sides, and the shield protected the skies.
Soon, the clear blue of the skies was replaced with the emerald and turquoise hues of Ulmo's sea, the water flowing above Valinor, which was shielded by an invisible barrier.
The vessels of Arien and Tilion, as they soared above, were both blotted out, but Arien's light pierced true through the water, shining in a multitude of hues onto Valinor, the best possible beacon of hope.
And then, suddenly, it was gone. At first, it seemed as if the Valar had let down their ethereal protection, but at the next, the tides had lowered and the waves had subsided. The sky was above them once again, and it was clear- clearer than it had ever been before.
Eönwë looked up to his beloved sky and frowned- it seemed something was wrong with it. It did not quite seem natural- a bit too perfectly azure. Arien shone down upon him again, and somewhere deep within him, Eönwë knew he would never see the Mortal Lands again.
All this after he had travelled to Andor himself and taught the children who would live there the ways of life.
What he had done, Mairon had undone. Rage at the Maia for his actions suddenly flooded his self, but the Herald sighed and shook it down, letting it drown in the tides of grief.
His Maiarin senses tingled at the revelation of a new electromagnetic signature behind him. The song of this particular fëa was gentle and beautiful yet firm. It was very familiar to him.
Lord Manwë, the Elder King, constructed flesh and stepped into the physical world. Without a word, he stooped down and took his child in his arms, his mighty fëa gently cradling the Maia's smaller one.
They remained there, blue and white cloaks fluttering in the wind.
Eönwë wished to speak with her.
It had occurred to him in a spur of sudden obsession, and he had worked very hard to hasten his tasks so that he could visit her.
Lord Mânawenûz had painstakingly explained to him all the involved details, telling him of the damage done, the casualties, the magic involved, the new shape of the world, since the flood had changed it, and its consequences.
However, his lord could not offer him comfort on the subject of Mairon. He suspected no one could. Therefore, he resolved to speak with the only one who had probably truly known the Maia apart from himself.
Taking the form of a Great Eagle, Eönwë shot off into the skies to find her.
It was rather a simple task to find her, as the golden light of the divine fruit of Laurelin that she carried could lead any Ainu on Eä to her.
Eönwë flew directly at her, his Ainurin eyes not hurt in the least by the radiance of the Sun, soaring high above any height possible for a typical Eagle. He channelled the winds of Manwë where there were none, hastening him to his destination.
He found her at last, soaring above the clouds in her golden chariot, the vessel of Laurelin's fruit levitated in front by her power.
He hesitated to approach her. Knowing Arien, she would probably be infuriated at Mairon for doubling her task. She would not accept a share in the load, nay- she was too stubborn and too dedicated to do that.
However, when earlier she could descend to Valinor at Night and live her life, now- she could not. The life she had in Valinor among her peers was henceforth over.
He changed his form to resemble his chosen fána- one of a golden-haired Vanyarin elf- but with a few changes, such a sturdier frame to withstand the pressures of the lack of air, and white wings to stay level.
Arien expertly changed course by a single degree with her chariot, and then she saw him.
"Urušigas, how might you be?" he asked jovially, but she drove the chariot away from him so that he could not leap onto it.
"Don't you dare call me that" Arien snapped.
"Oh" said Eönwë. "Right. Still haven't gotten over Cosmoco, have you? I hear from Lord Námo that your brother is displaying particularly exemplary conduct in Mandos, due to which he has had to be isolated from other inmates. His dulcet tones can be heard all the way from Ilmarin…"
Arien wanted to be angry at him. She wanted to be sad, when reminded of her brother. But how could she? One did not simply be angered by Eönwë.
"Oh, shut up, you." she said mock-sternly. Eönwë clucked his tongue and shook his head, prompting Arien to give up and simply throw herself into his awaiting arms.
"How good it is to finally see you, Fiônno! Now, I am indeed very put out with you, you heartless Maia, you did not think to visit!" she said, finally pulling away. She had forgotten that her friend had a truly very strong embrace.
"Oh, I am sorry- I do hope it is not getting too lonely up here. If only you had not been so incredibly thick when it came to choosing from your horde of suitors…"
Arien suddenly looked away. It was meant to be a jest, but it had aroused some very poignant memories.
"Arien?" said Eönwë, walking ahead to face her.
"No- well, yes- you are right, Fiô. However, somehow I had always known I would have to walk a different path. I did not wish to bind myself to someone and then just- leave, letting him be alone."
"Arien. I know you, and despite your stubborn, impassionate tendencies, I know there are few maiar who are as kind and as capable of love as you. No matter who you took as spouse, he would never feel your absence- you leave a part of you with whoever makes your favourable acquaintance. That is what makes you wonderful." he said quietly.
Arien looked up at him, and he realized he had forgotten just how intense her stare was.
"Thank you, Fiô- but I am aware that oft it is not enough. Look what happened."
This was not going well. She had already brought up Mairon. While it was better than her refusing to speak of him, Eönwë had wished to be the one to bring him up, and that too later on. He hastily changed the subject.
"I am sorry, Arien. I do hope this is not getting intolerable. The entire day, for an eternity- it must be very difficult. Now, I would have you know that there are many who would willingly step in for one part of the day, and there would be no regrets on our side if…"
"You already know suggesting that is a waste of time, so I request you to refrain from doing so." Arien said proudly.
"Have it your way, then…"
"However, if you forget to visit me, then I might just forget to shine upon Valinor for quite some time."
"Oh, Eru- why am I stuck with all the fiery ones?" Eönwë moaned. It was quite true.
"Well, I am afraid that is your…" -she remembered exactly who the other 'fiery one' he was referring to was- "…doom." She finished quietly.
Eönwë once again sensed a change in her manner. Perhaps it was the way the air heated up around her flaming form. Perhaps it was the subtle difference in her firm speech. He walked a step forward and slowly, gently wrapped his arm around her.
It had been she who discovered it. They had both been inconsolable for a while, and although Eönwë had recovered due to the constant support of his lord, and never lost hope for Rušur's return- the same could not be said for Arien.
He remembered how Tilion had come to console her, and how she had accidentally burnt his fána in an unthinking moment of outburst to an extent that he had had to construct a new one.
He did not blame her- Rušur was an extremely close friend, and for him to leave- it had been perhaps one of the most heart-rending episodes he had undergone.
Arien looked at him, and then turned the opposite direction, resolutely hiding her face, but he turned her around sharply, uncaring of the consequences, and held her fiery gaze with his eye.
He was one of the three maiar who could withstand her gaze- Mairon and Ilmarë were the others. They stood in silence for a few moments.
"Atar curse him, Fiô! Atar curse Dušamânûdhâz! First and mightiest of the Ainur, indeed! Oft the thought has come to me whether He erred in His judgment!" said Arien at last. Eönwë was shocked- he had expected her to be angry, but at Mairon- not at Atar. How could Atar ever have made a mistake? (Though it often occurred to him why Atar let the Eldar suffer, why he let Morgoth hold sway over Middle-earth, why Rušur was taken away…)
"Say not such words, Uru. Atar is never wrong- and this is all part of the Grand Design He has for Arda. You know how He chose not to intervene, to not destroy Arda with His Might…"
"And He chooses now as a good moment to do so. Why not strike at Morgoth in the first place, if He is so eager to destroy our Mae by such means…"
"It is no use to argue, Uru, and you know it. We know not what Atar has in mind. That blessing, I believe, only Lord Mânawenûz possesses. It is what was meant to be."
"Even if it was- Atar gave us free will. And that allows me to hate this 'Grand Design', if I will." said she, sullenly.
"My, my, Uru, Atar has surely heard you. I daresay he will not be pleased."
"I think He minds little, if He took away His own offspring, and that too the most beautiful one of all He…" she suddenly covered her mouth with a hand, not uttering the remnant.
"What is it, Arien?"
"Ah, a- uh- a slip of the tongue. It is as nothing, and you would do well to forget it."
"Arien, I know you well. It is not 'nothing'. What is it? Is it something not for my ears? I promise you, you can trust me with…"
"I told you, it is as nothing! It would be wise not to push it further, Fiônnowenûz."
The Herald of Manwë, however, was wily and clever. There are many ways one could use to appear to engage in natural conversation, and steer it clear of the obvious well enough that the other participant in the conversation simply divulges all the information one is wishing to gain- without even realising it.
"Tell me one thing, Arien- are you not angry in the least at 'Mæȝæyárron', as he liked to call himself, for what he has done?
"How could I be angry at him? How could I?" she challenged immediately, and regretted saying so at once. Eönwë knew her very well, and he knew that she tended to be angry at any who would forsake reason for pettiness without any seemingly rational logic. It was not so for a certain Maia, it seemed.
Eönwë naturally moved to assure her that he had not taken any lost ground.
"Of course, of course- however, even I have held some measure of bitterness over the debacle. Naturally, owing to your… tendencies…"- he began, prompting a raised eyebrow from Arien-
"I had imagined you would be more than a little angry with him. Ah, curse me, I seem to have lost those days in the depths of my memory. Steeped in troubles I must resolve and weary as I am, I have lost some remembrance of him- of that magic of the old days. That is why I came to talk to you- I needed to talk to someone about the old days."
"The Old Days? I cannot deny that the time of Arda's creation was… interesting. And tumultuous. Surely you remember that?" said Arien, tilting her head to the side.
"Sadly, dear Uru- I seem to have forgotten his friendship. In those days, Dušamânûdhâz- or Morgoth as he is called- used to take what he wished, therefore the bonds that bound us to each other were very great- that I have not forgotten, as have I missed it. Perhaps the terror was worth it in the end…" he breathed a nostalgic sigh, which was genuine, and continued his ploy.
"I have not completely forgotten how those days were like, though- I still remember how we were- you, me and Mae- the 'Three Aces of the Ayanumûz.'"
Arien cracked a small smile, recalling a particularly fond memory. It was working.
"I seem to remember that the Lady Varda deigned to call us 'The Three Asses'". And Eönwë had fallen helplessly upon her.
"Ah, the old days!" he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye- it was good to have remembered.
"We made rather a nice company, did we not- Fiônnowenûz the Warrior, Urušigas the Radiant, and Rušuranaškâd- or 'Mæȝæyárron'- the Smith. Indeed, one would be hard-pressed to find a fellowship this perfect- The first, the greatest armsman on Arda- always protecting the others." She said.
"The second, of fiery gaze and mighty in songs of power- always destroying enemies with radiant might" quipped Eönwë, somewhat sycophantically, prompting a light smack on the cheek.
"And the third…" began Arien, finding suddenly that she could not speak.
"Inventor, creator of new marvels, and preserver of all beauty we wrought." finished Eönwë firmly. "Alas that he no longer remains so."
Arien gave a very small, slow nod, and turned her beautiful face to the ground. Eönwë saw his chance.
"Did you see him, Uru? Have you seen Mae, and what he has wrought in the past age?"
A little tear came down from Arien's eye, and Eönwë knew that he had struck firm and at the perfect moment.
"Oh, Fiô- he remains our Mae no longer. Morgoth be damned!"
"What did you see, Arien?" Eönwë asked, somewhat more firmly than he intended.
"He- he has- he has taken up a land far to the east as his abode. 'Mordor', it is called- Dark Land- and there is no better adjective. It is the farthest possible land from here, and I hate to think of what Morgoth did to him to make him… go… so far away from his rightful home.
Barren and volcanic, a tortured land- I saw little of him. The last I saw him, he was erecting some- something…"
"Arien?"
"Fiô, it- you know not the feeling. When a smith, for instance, who once had an eye for the creation of only the most beautiful things, s-sinks so low as to erect something so dark and sharp-edged and utterly- utterly hideous as that-"
"Hideous? Our Mae, hideous? That is the last adjective one could…"
"And yet it is the most apt for his construction. Here I was, thinking he could not sink himself lower… and then he decides he's had enough darkening himself and moves to the sky. He stops hurting himself and decides to hurt me. With some black sorcery, he created dark clouds to cover the entirety of his land- he was always very skilled with spell-craft, but this… this tore my heart asunder."
"Oh, Eru, how dare he!" roared Eönwë, incensed. There was only one thing capable of reducing Arien to tears, and only one being capable of it to truly break her heart. And he had done it.
"Perhaps he could not withstand my gaze… But he was one of the only who could! He could even withstand my touch! And then he was taken away, curse Morgoth!" she said, shaking her head.
Eönwë truly felt bad. Arien, despite her status as Lady Vána's chief maia, had always felt sad and… awkward, as if there was something the matter with her that she couldn't rectify. She was truly lovely in every aspect, except for certain tendencies to temper, yet none among the Maiar could bear her touch.
And then there was this other Maia she had met, courtesy of him, who was equally awkward and unsociable. He had taken her hand without so much as a wince, and had simply pronounced it 'warm, comforting to the touch'.
Mairon was the one who taught Arien to stem the flow of power into her fána to not scorch others, and the only Maia who could bear her true fiery touch (save Eönwë, who did so with a lot of practice). And the same Mairon had been taken away and changed so much that he went so far as to hide himself from her searching gaze.
Eönwë gently embraced her, as Manwë had embraced him many a time. She did not push him away, as she most often did.
"Ah, Uru. I believe he is simply scared of your gaze. Dark Lord he may be, but the Mairon I knew would never seek to hide himself from you."
"Then the Mairon you knew lives no longer! I saw him later- after that fool Ar-Pharazôn the 'Golden' came with his army to subjugate him. He bent his knee willingly. I saw him sailing away from Mordor on a ship- the fána he wore was truly beautiful, yet not… him. It was too beautiful. It was pretentious, and presumptuous and wholly overdone- so uncharacteristic of him."
Eönwë did not ask about the Annatar episode, knowing she would not like to speak of it. He knew she had believed him capable of redemption, and craving it- it had been a nasty shock to learn of his deception.
"What happened in Andor?"
"Ar-Pharazôn… liked him. He came to value his advice, and grudgingly… admired him. He would never admit it, but I saw it in his eyes every time I passed over the isle. As for what I saw in Mairon's eye- there was an evil glint, a smile curved like a dagger. It revolted me to think of. His words flowed beautifully like poisonous honey. I had wished to find him half as evil as the Eldar said he was- sadly, I was proved wrong."
"Is he beyond redemption, then?"
"If he had any hope for redemption, he would know that I would be the first to demand it for him! He knew me well enough to accept that! I thought I could finally keep an eye on him, but no- he employed his foul sorcery again! He gained enough influence to construct this… temple… of Morgoth, and warded it with his own magic, darkening it to my eye. Every day, a man or woman would be led to this temple- and never come out again.
Mairon himself never came out, save to give 'advice' to the traitorous king, conducting worship of that damned fiend he calls master by sacrificing innocent men, women… even children."
"Yet you do not blame him?"
"Nay, how can I? How can I… I know he would never willingly worship Morgoth- it is but an excuse to hide from us, I fear- but that dark glint in his eye…"
"Morgoth he hated, as he told me- and I could detect no lie in his words. His repentance, when he came to me, seemed true and not some deception. For what reason I cannot comprehend, he… left… us as soon as I mentioned the inevitable trial, and that only the Valar could give him pardon. Oh, I should have been less cold- he seemed so frightened, barely keeping it under forced calm. Such strength I have never seen- but neither have I yet beheld such fear."
Arien slowly shook her head.
"What I must say now, I am incapable of saying, Fiô. The hand of fate chokes my throat- but I must say it. You blame yourself wrongly. You had and could have done nothing to bring him back- as I was the reason he fell. This is all my fault."
"Nay, Uru, nay! Speak not thus! You were the one to find his treachery, not the one to have caused his fall! You were most probably the one he cared most about."
"Do you understand naught of this?! I was the one he may have cared about most, but I cared not about him! I could have stopped his fall! I did not! I found out he had erred, and what did I do? What did I do, when I should have run after him, comforted him, and told him how much we cared about him? I stormed 'good riddance' in a cursed rage, and let him go! I made him feel as if he was not loved, and this was the one and only thing which could have kept him back there!"
"Stay yourself, Urušigas. This is no fault of yours and never was. The blame of Rušurânaškâd's fall lies on three hands- The hand of Dušamânûdhâz, the hand of his old master Aȝûlêz, and the hand of Rušurânaškâd himself."
Neither Eönwë nor Arien had sensed the new, powerful electromagnetic signature. It had extremely tight wavelengths, and a slow, gentle velocity. It was well-hidden.
"Hail, Lord Náromôz!" said the two Maiar, and knelt- Arien somewhat awakwardly, as this was a rare gesture which Vána, her mistress, never demanded of her.
"Rise, my children. The Light of Vîyarêz's fëa shines heavily upon you today, and her tapestry features you two in prominence-hence my presence. I sense hidden truths and veiled thoughts- and Atar wills it that this be the last day of guilt and grief for you. Both of you have hidden thoughts you have carried for an age, as if leaden weights in shining fëar. I will have you dispose of these weights."
"D-dispose of the weight of conscience? I- I am afraid I understand it not." said Eönwë, rather confused.
Námo's eyes, usually black as the void, lit up with a white, twinkling light at this response.
"My meaning, little Fiônnowenûz, is that this is the last day you carry guilt. I am here to utter truth and declare Atar's design before you- so that you may rest assured about your friend. Now, is there anything you would wish to tell me?"
Eönwë's expression clouded over, and he bit his lip. It would be futile to attempt to hide anything from the Lord of Mandos- it would be better to get it over with. Besides, he loved his friend, and Lord Námo was perhaps the only one capable of convincing Arien to release her notions of guilt. Therefore, he would do well to be out with his little tale.
"When I found Mairon first- his first reaction was to tell me to go away. I refused- he seemed surprised, as others would only be too glad to grant his request. Since then, I stuck by him, refusing to leave, and eventually he stopped holding me in naught but contempt, and a friendship evolved. He became akin to a little brother, as Ilmarë is my sister.
When I found him, chased by Oromë's hounds, begging me for pardon- I was cold. Cold as the wind on that dark day. I did not comfort him- I told him, somewhat harshly, that the only ones capable of granting him pardon were my lords, the Valar. He ran."
"What you did was correct. None can grant him pardon but my brethren- that is doom."
"Alas that I should phrase it such, then. I should have whispered meaningless reassurances, contrived to bring him back to Valinor, or simply embraced him as the brother he was to me… neither course did I follow. That is my part in this."
"Fiônnowenûz- your part has been recorded. It is in no way, however, a part of the Doom of Mairon. His fall is no fault of yours. And let me tell you, beloved son- you were warm and kind, yet upright as a great Herald should be. It was the actions he subsequently took which led you to twist your part in your mind to the Cold jailer- which would perhaps be a more apt description of me- than the comforting friend."
Eönwë instantly felt better. He hadn't been part of Mairon's doom after all! He gave a small chuckle at Námo's little jab at his own self. Looking into the Vala's so-called cold eyes and seeing nothing but love and no blame shattered his guilt to pieces. He felt- lighter, somehow.
Arien, however, was resolutely staring at Lord Námo's chest, refusing to make eye contact. He nudged her gently, knowing of the care and aaffection to be found in those eyes, which were not fathomless depths and twinkled like stars.
"Say it, Arien. Lord Námo will help you.
"How can I say it, Fiô? How can I tell him that this would not have happened if not for my foolishness?"
"It will help you, Uru. Though you do not show it, I know you carry guilt with you.
"Have you not heard aught of what I have said? I cannot-"
"Urušigas, Maia of Váyanaz, carrier of Tulukhadâhan's fruit, what thou shalt now utter will bring change to Arda's doom. 'Tis by Atar's will that I pronounce it thus. Yet free will is a gift Atar hath bestowed upon ye all, and therefore thou art placed in a matter of choice." said Námo, the twinkle in his eyes dying out for a moment, as he changed his dialect to ancient Valarin. The Doomsman had thus uttered his doom.
Arien, though she was offered 'choice', did not think herself to be in possession of any. If doom it was, then she would rather it be one with a favourable end. She knew something of the paths Námo's dooms tended to take- and with a last, uncharacteristic sigh, uttered a secret she had hidden deep within her fëa for ever since a fateful day on Almaren.
"Mairon and I- we were friends, the best of friends, as you undoubtedly know. Never had I imagined a possibly of it growing further than that. However, I loved him not as a brother, as you did- I wished to bond my fëa with his, in the manner of a husband and wife.
A marital relationship with either of you I had long considered- I had, however, a premonition that I was destined for some greater fate, one that would play a crucial role in Arda's survival, and therefore held off."
"The vision you speak of- that was my doing." said Námo, with a sad smile. "I am sorry, dear child- I am sorry for perhaps erasing a prospect of joy from your life- but it is… doom. And I know better than any that what is doom is doom, and must occur for it is part of Atar's grand design."
Eönwë was extremely shocked. He had lost control of his fána, and his jaw had dropped below a level possible for any Eruhîn. He hastily re-constructed some bones and muscles in the right places to correct it.
He had known that Arien had once considered a marital bond with him, but had held off until a Herald's duties and a great destiny had grounded these hopes forever.
Mairon she had rather considered a very dear friend, one whose company was to be cherished but never loved in the way of a spouse. Arien tended to be extremely frank, and perhaps overly so. She had even once said so, on Almaren, declaring her intent of a possible nuptial bond with Eönwë.
Mairon had seemingly taken it very well at the time. He had laughed it off, pretending to be sad, and then treated it as if he expected nothing different and hoped for nothing else… but hadn't that been about the time when he started running off on his own?
There had been a time when he would start appearing less and less often, always coming back somewhat grimmer and more hardened. He had always been rather grim and hardened, but he spoke progressively less, and came to see Eönwë less often. He even disappeared for long periods of time. Only when his treachery concerning the lamps was discovered did Eönwë understand a reason behind it all.
"Do you remember the time I said I was likely to take you for a spouse, Fiô? Do you remember how he had laughed? Perhaps he had taken it harder than I thought he did. Oh, foolish me- I was such an insufferable ball of fire at the time! Of course, I loved both of you, and…"
"Did you truly love me, Uru?" asked Eönwë unexpectedly, expression pleading for an answer.
"Well, yes I… I did, but not that… not now… well, yes indeed, I have always loved you, but not as…"
"The truth, and the truth only, best beloved. Remember- it is doom."
Arien closed er eyes, lowered her face, and said in a heavy voice- "Fine, then."
"Uru?"
"I am sorry, Fiô- I always loved you, but I was never quite besotted. I loved both of you, and would have perhaps preferred you simply because of your gentle nature and prowess in battle but- in a marriage, both partners need each other. That need- it was never there, sadly. Therefore, my love for you is the love of the dearest friend I have ever had."
Eönwë wished to feel somewhat sad- but in truth, he was relieved. To know that Arien had loved him would press new guilt and responsibility on his shoulders- just when he had gotten rid of his previous guilt.
"And Mairon?"
"Mairon… I was a fool to not know it. Perhaps because he was always there, I felt a warmth in my heart I took for granted. When he was gone, I felt… cold. I seemed incomplete. I remembered his fires, his beautiful fires- so perfectly controlled, so soothing against my being. I felt complete around him, though I did not notice it. After he was gone, I found myself wishing to have a bit of his fire- ah, to think of the melody we could have created together."
"One a white flame of radiant light and the other an amber flame of the deepest bowels of the Earth. I must admit, and it never occurred to me before- he would have suited you."
"Precisely, Fiô. It took me too long to realise this, and now… he… he is gone. Forever. Gone forever. All because of me."
Arien looked down, and tears of somewhat-dulled blue flame left her eyes, contrasting against her being of white fire. It looked as if she could no longer sustain her fána.
Lord Námo swept forward and cupped her chin with his hand, compelling her to look at his eyes. Where his black orbs once twinkled, they now shone with a bright, eternal flame- the Flame Imperishable.
"Thus you have spoken, Urušigas- and it has been recorded. It is true that you have a part in the Doom of Mairon- but whatever darkness has come of it- it is his, and his alone. For a matter of misunderstanding, though, you will be recompensed in kind. I cannot see what the errant Maia will come to- but know that it will no longer be in evil that he ends."
"N-no longer be in evil?" she said, finally daring to hope.
"Aye. His doom changes and I pronounce it changed- however long and painful it may be, Mairon Aulendil, now Sauron Gorthaur, walks the path of redemption. And you, best beloved- will be the one to bring him back to the light."
And Arien was glad.
GLOSSARY
Mânawenûz- Manwë. It means 'Blessed One'.
Fiônnowenûz- Eönwë (This name is not strictly canonical. It was my attempt to turn Eönwë's previous name, Fionwë, to Valarin. Means 'Herald of the Wind')
Urušigas- Arien. Means fiery heat. The closest name in Valarin from canonical words that I could construct for her.
Dušamânûdhâz- Morgoth. A constructed name from known words, mening 'Dark Destroyer'.
Aȝûlêz- Aulë. Means 'Inventor'.
Ayanumûz- Ainur (plural).
Váyanaz- Vána (This name is not canonical. My attempt to 'Valarize' Vána)
Tulukhadâhan- Laurelin
Náromôz- Námo (Non-canonical, my creation)
Vîyarêz- Vairë (My creation)
Rušurânaškâd- Mairon/Sauron. Found in the Annals of Aman, it means 'Ring of Fire'.
Mæȝæyárrôn- Mairon/Sauron. Means 'Admirable One' (Non-canonical. I made it up when I was displeased with 'Ring of Fire'. Note how it is unique in that it lacks the –oz, -uz or –ez ending of the normal Valarin names)
Author's Note: There. I did the unthinkable. I wrote a (somewhat) fluffy story. Excuse me while I throw myself off the proverbial battlements.
Normally, I have no trouble fending off plot bunnies when they scamper into my mind, but this one- this was no mere plot bunny.
It was more like a Balrog, to be fair. It latched on with fire and heat and refused to let me remain in a state of calm until I obliged it.
(No) Thanks to Sauron Gorthaur for feeding the Balrog's fires and for inspiring its birth in the first place- Kindly stop being so inspiring, you!
Why this pairing? Simply because I have never seen it before. I learnt the meaning of the words 'ship' and 'OTP' and even used them in a sentence (oh horror) in reference to these two since they just fit so perfectly together. One cannot deny- their fire, their power being beyond the level of the average Maia, one a manifestation of light and the other darker- it seems they perfectly complement each other.
A Very Merry Yule to all the readers.