Chapter 7: The Challenge of Nienna

          Tiansom was not bound by chain or strap, nor were any guards following him save for Talohir, who was leading him. Frodo walked unusually soft beside him, and the Elf led them into a great forest of high trees, with bark of shining dew-like silver, and leaves of fragile gold, veined with delicate crystal. When the wind breezed gently through their high crowns, the sound was musical and gentle, and Tiansom would have delighted to hear it, if he wasn't half-dead with exhaustion, trying hard not to feel the cold burn of his wraith-wound, and trying not to look foul in the eyes of the Elf. The breeze was warm, but Tiansom felt chilled, and then felt a slow burn crawl through him like a slithering snake. He breathed deep, closed his eyes, and fought off the pain.

      A flash of a fair, immortal face came to his mind. Dark was her hair, and gray was her raiment, and her eyes were dark, and they seemed to search him, and search his soul. And then he opened his eyes, and breathed a small sigh of relief. She was a dream. But dreams were, as he reminded himself, oftentimes real. He glanced at Frodo, and his eyes seemed troubled. He whispered softly to the hobbit, saying, "You needn't share in my doom. Go, and run free on these fair shores. It is what you deserve." Frodo turned his head to look at him, and seemed to consider his statement, but spoke firmly all the same. "I do not deserve a life of aching sadness, do I? Therefore I take your doom."

     "Yea, you speak true." Tiansom then turned back to Talohir, who was standing at the head of a great gate wrought of elven-glass and gold. He paused for a moment, looking doubtfully at Tiansom's garb and dark eyes, and then drawing an arrow from his quiver, he lightly struck upon the first bar of the gate. A musical tone sounded, and it ran shivering through the gate, and then from far off, there was an answering tone, and it shivered as did the first, rushing through the glass, and when the two tones met, the gate opened noiselessly, and the music ceased.

      Tiansom's eyes widened as he beheld the fair realm of Imaldris. There were no buildings, save for small huts of silvery wood that opened up to the great stars at night. The grass was soft and green under his feet, and the sky was bright blue. Flowers of every hue graced the low, rolling hills, and pathways of white stone cut through the great trees that sheltered the elven-huts. Chimes of glass and mithril hung at some doorways, and sweet, clear voices singing in the tongue of the High Elves mixed and mingled to form a great stream of healing music. A fireplace of silver was at the greatest of the elven-homes, which was built of wood and crystal, inlaid with shining gems that seemed to catch the light of the sun and the shimmering leaves of the trees.

       And it was here that Talohir was taking them, on the fair Midsummer's Day, to the house of Elrond and Galadriel, and all the High Elves who had dwelt in Rivendell in Middle-earth. Tiansom was stepping soft now, like Frodo, as if he did not want to disturb the elven minstrels who sang songs of times long before, and times yet to come. Talohir led them to the courtyard, which was built of flagged white marble, and bade them to stay there, warning them that they were being watched. The courtyard was empty, but Tiansom felt as if great, all-seeing eyes bore into him.

     "Frodo, have you ever desired to go back? Back to mortal lands, where all will perish and change?" Tiansom asked, turning down to look at the hobbit.

    Frodo looked straight at him, and his voice did not falter when he answered. "Yes, for I am mortal, and only in my own land will I find what peace I need. Here I found healing from the Darkness, but there I will find those who have saved me from it."

     Tiansom smiled, and gazed sadly off into the East. For him there would be no healing, for all he had ever known and lived for was destroyed, or forgotten. Even if the Great Enemy was vanquished, and the Valar returned to heal Middle-earth, he would wander forever, for such was his fate, to carry on without respite.

     Frodo watched Tiansom's face turn from joy to sorrow, and felt compassion for him. He spoke softly, saying, "Do not worry, for sooner or later, your road will end, as do all roads."

      "I suppose." Tiansom said heavily, his voice thick with sorrow. Frodo smiled knowingly at him, and then saw Talohir leading not one, but three fair figures, and an older one, who bore flowing hair and beard.

        Elrond Halfelven watched the young man-like being silently, and noticed his pale skin and blue-tinged lips. He knew then that the young one had been through pain and torture, and wondered what he must be thinking now, for it was clear he had never beheld the Blessed Realm of  Valinor, or any Elven-dwelling in that case. Galadriel, wisest of the High Elves who lingered here, was searching his eyes, which were the color of shadow, but bore a great resemblance to the Numenor, and even the Elves themselves. And the third fair figure was one of the Valar, wise Nienna, Lady of Wisdom, who often dwelt in the Halls of Mandos, deep in thought and sorrow for the marred Middle-earth. But she had foretold the coming of a great presence, who, along with the Ringbearer, break the Doom of the Valar upon cursed Arda. The fourth figure, an old man, with twinkling blue eyes and gray hair and beard, clad in white elven-robes and bearing a carven staff, was Olorin, wisest of all the Maiar.

        Nienna spoke first. "You are tired, and weary, mortal of Arda. But in your eyes, a deathless flame burns, and on your tongue, words that were never meant to be spoken are waiting to be heard. And a sword that gleams cold and bright is girt to you. Tell me, why do you seek the Ringbearer through so much peril? For I know what you have endured, Tiansom. Indeed, I know more about you than you do yourself."

       Tiansom's voice was clear when he spoke, and in his eye a gleam burned ceaselessly. "Then you must know why I seek the Ringbearer, O wise Lady of the West. He bears a treasure...no, a great power, that is needed to help the lands of Arda. Reunited with its eight lesser brothers, it will destroy all traces of evil in the Forsaken Land."

      Nienna looked at Tiansom, a cold glint in her dark eyes. "But what if the Quest fails? For you are mortals, fighting what seems to be a losing battle against a Dark Enemy much older, and much more powerful than yourselves."

       Tiansom gazed at her with shadowy eyes that seemed unfeeling to her dark hints, and he smiled. "Nienna, fair Lady of Wisdom, how have you lost hope? Is Morgoth a power to be feared even by the Valar in their impenetrable fortress? It was only by the grace of Ulmo that I journeyed here alive, and even then, Osse was intent on destroying me. You guard ceaselessly against Morgoth's trickery. You need not worry about the Valar and the Quendi who dwell here, for they are presently safe."

      "I speak not of Aman, but of Arda. I grieve for the death of Arda under Melkor. If the Quest fails, then Arda will fall into great darkness that even the Valar cannot save it from."

       Tiansom's gentle smile lingered on his face, like sunlight in dark shadow. He looked at Frodo, and then at Nienna. "Do you trust us? If you worry for a mortal land, that must mean you have great love for the mortals. Could you trust a mortal with this Quest?" He undid his pack from his shoulders, knelt down, opened it, and drew the Stone of Fire from his pack. Frodo was entranced by its warm glow, its seemingly divine power. He groped and felt his own Stone, smooth to his touch. Then Tiansom knelt at Nienna's feet, and turned his face up towards her, lifting his hands up with the Stone in them.

       "Do you want it, Lady Nienna? Do you wish to be the Keeper?" Tiansom said, his eyes flashing. "For you look upon the Stone of Fire, and its Keeper. Only I could give it to you, Lady Nienna, only I. Do you want it?"

        Nienna stretched out a pale white arm, but instead of taking the Stone, she gently touched Tiansom's face. "You have shown your greatness, Tiansom, Everchanger of Ulmo. For only one who has the greatest strength of mind and spirit could have forsaken a Stone that is  them, for these Stones are extensions of their Keeper's spirit, which explains their greatness. You have passed the challenge, Tiansom!"

       "I have forsaken much," Tiansom whispered softly, and then his clear voice rose in song.

                Long have I traveled on roads not looked for,

               In the lands where the Sun meets the Moon.

             Long have I journeyed, far from the fires of home.

            O home! Sweet home! Long have I been away from you!

           The frost grows clear, and the cold draws near,

          And yet I stand on hills to see the stars gleam bright,

         O home! My home! When will I look upon you!

       And then a smaller voice, but just as clear, joined his song, and Tiansom looked up to see Frodo, who was singing with him, a single tear staining his face.

       And now I walk, in lands far and high,

     Waiting for the sun to shine, and the moon to glow,

    And when I dream alone, I dream of you,

   O home! My home! I will never come back to you!

  For my journeys have tired my weary feet,

 And now I must seek what lies beyond this world,

O home! Sweet home! Never shall I forget you!

Even when I am safe and ever joyful

Beyond the circles of this world.

    Tiansom's voice was again thick with his sorrow, and his tears welled in his eyes, though they did not fall. He stood up, walked over to Frodo, and kneeling down before him, gave him a hug. Frodo hugged him back, and then, Tiansom stood tall again, and looked at the four who were to decide his fate. Lady Nienna was smiling in deep compassion, and so was the Lady Galadriel. Olorin was smiling, and Elrond's face was thoughtful.

     Galadriel spoke, "Weary is your heart, Tiansom. You must seek rest before you start your journey, and seek the counsel of the wise." She smiled at him, and he looked at her with sorrow mixed with bitterless understanding.

      Elrond smiled, and said, "Rest only as much as you need. A boat will be provided for you, and you will be given clothes and armor. And the Ringbearer will take up his sword again, and join you. Thus is your doom." He led the Ringbearer and the Everchanger to a fair sized elven-hut, which had six rooms on each side. Tiansom's hand was numb and blackened, and his wound had not gone unnoticed, for it dripped blood sporadically, the first mortal blood to be shed on Valinor.

       Elrond searched the wound with his fingers, and his face grew grave. "How did you get this wound?" he asked Tiansom, who was lying on a bed, his burned hand now wrapped in bandages with healing herbs. But Tiansom did not answer, for his eyes rolled into his head, and his skin turned deathly white, and suddenly, he let out a high, cold, wail. And he was answered, by Frodo, who too was swooning, and had dropped to the floor by Elrond. The blood flowed no more out of the wound, and it was icy to Elrond's touch. Frodo's hand was groping towards the pendant that Arwen had given him before he had left Gondor. Tiansom flailed, lay still, and then his eyes snapped open. "They are riding again, Elrond. The fathers of the Nazgul. The Wraiths of Thangorodrim." He gasped for breath, his brow sweaty and cold. Then, with urgency, he got slowly out of bed, lifted Frodo, and placed him on it instead.

     "The Lord Wraith has not stabbed me, it was one of the lesser ones. But his power greatly affects Frodo. We must heal this wound."

   "Some wounds are beyond healing, Tiansom." said Elrond. "It will pass soon."

    "No," said Tiansom. "I will heal this wound, for it is a Nazgul creation, not like mine, and yet, not very different."  He sang slowly over Frodo's prone body, and as Elrond listened, it became a song, rhythmic, in a tongue he could not understand.

        Osthonmai mo seho, kanosoae,

       Mai iom kanosa lamo mortzum

      Tae morvlzhum deya morteyo iom

      Seho deya lhaniae iom pomlao iomer Ndamone

    Osthonmai mo seho, osthonmai mo tae kas-tila

    Moar mo sehon seyono, nomoro tae zomorto morvlzhum!

      Tiansom breathed deeply, closing his eyes to rest.

       "Will it work?" Elrond asked, his voice grave.

     "Only time will tell," said Tiansom, and he fell asleep.