Chapter Three

Irmo and Yavanna watched Aulë leave, then looked at each other. "Do you…" Irmo began.

Yavanna shook her head. "I am as surprised as you are. He is a strange one."

"Strange, yes," Irmo agreed, "but he has a good heart."

"Indeed he does," Yavanna said with a sigh, and thought back to their duet. Their first encounter had been one of unmatched beauty and symmetry, and she often wondered why he never approached her since then. Perhaps she could track him down and ask him sometime.

But not yet, she thought, looking to Irmo. Not yet.

Irmo smiled and took her hand. "Yavanna, there is something I must ask you."

Aulë found Ulmo conversing with Manwë and Varda in the middle of the crowd. The three of them greeted him warmly, and he returned their welcome as graciously as he could. His introverted demeanor was not helped by the combination of weariness and rejection. The last thing he wanted was to be in the company of his cheerful friends.

The beaming Manwë embraced Aulë like a brother and said, "Your lamps are more glorious than I imagined they would be," the King of Arda said. "Well done, my friend."

Varda smiled at him in agreement with her husband. Aulë, who had a difficult enough time looking at her under normal circumstances, could not withstand the radiance she emanated when she smiled. Only Manwë could.

Aulë sighed. Manwë and Varda, Súlimo and Elentári, the king and queen, who loved and needed each other like the sea loved and needed water. It was all rather… depressing.

"Thank you," Aulë said. "I wish only that there was more I could have done."

"Your chance will come," Manwë replied. "Now that all have seen what you are capable of, I doubt the fires of your forges will ever go out."

He, Ulmo, and Varda chuckled. Aulë managed a smile.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Aulë?" Varda asked.

Aulë sighed. "Not as much as I should be," he said. "I am weary."

Varda nodded sympathetically. "You look weary," she said. "You should rest."

"I would not want anyone to misinterpret my reasons for-"

"Nonsense," Manwë interrupted. "Take some rest and recover your strength, friend. You have done enough."

Aulë and Ulmo looked at one another, but neither spoke. Ulmo had questions for the Smith, but he could tell by the melancholy look in Aul's dark eyes that they would not be answered. And he needed no answers. It was clear that the encounter had not gone as well as he'd hoped.

No words were exchanged among any of them until Aulë was gone. Then Manwë looked at Ulmo said, "There is more resting on Aul's than he is willing to let us know. You know this, do you not?"

Varda responded before Ulmo could. "Yavanna."

"Yavanna?" Manwë repeated, glancing at his farsighted queen. "Of course…"

"How long have you known?" Ulmo asked.

"Since the Music," Varda replied. "I believe it is entirely possible that the only one who is not aware of Aul's feelings for her is Yavanna herself."

Out of the corner of his eye, Manwë noticed someone coming toward the three of them, then said, "And I believe that may soon change."

Aul's halls were located deep inside the earth, carved out of stone and marble and lit with gems he crafted out of fire. He did not believe in the burning of wood; there was not enough of it in the world to fulfill his needs, and the thought of destroying his beloved's creations to further his own bothered him. Therefore, every fire that burned within his forges was lit with an imperishable flame given to him by Eru Himself. Aulë devised a way to capture the fire inside a crystal, and the flames could be released upon the breaking of their container. The greatest of these crystals were the two placed in the two Lamps, Illuin and Ormal, where his revolutionary creations could shed their light upon the entire world.

The halls were nearly deserted; all his Maiar were at the festivities save one: Curumë, who was in the forges melting metal for future uses. Aulë was not surprised to see Curumë; at the celebration, he'd gotten into an argument with Olórin, a Maia of Manwë and Varda, and left soon after. Aulë and Curumë acknowledged each other with nods of their head in passing, but did not speak. Neither was in the mood for conversation.

Aulë gripped the handles of his massive doors, pulled them open, then went inside his bedchamber. He took off his heavy ceremonial robes, deep red velvet lined and accented with gold, and draped them over a chair as the deep rumbling of the doors closing echoed throughout the large stone room. He could have easily collapsed there, but he found enough strength to make it to his bed, where he proceeded to lie down and let exhaustion take him.

Yavanna halted just outside the stone arch that led into Aul's halls and wondered if it was wise to follow through with her good intentions at this time. His strange behavior confused her, and she wanted to make sure he was all right, but she did know he was tired, and Ulmo enigmatically hinted that she might not be the best one for him to see at this point in time. Nevertheless, she knew she would not be able to take her mind off him until she knew everything would be fine.

The stone mansions were empty. Yavanna was not surprised. Everyone was at the celebration, everyone save Aulë and whoever was hammering away in the forges. She doubted it was Aulë himself; he appeared too weary to work when she last saw him. She followed the sound anyway. If it was not Aulë, then it was someone who could lead her to him.

Just as she suspected, it was not Aulë, but rather Curumë, the greatest of not only Aul's people, but of all the Maiar. Yavanna did not completely trust Curumë, but that did not matter here and now. All that mattered was Aulë.

Curumë saw Yavanna almost as soon as she saw him. "Kementári," he said, laying down his hammer. "To what does the house of the Talca Marwa owe the honor of this visit?"

"I seek the master of your house, Curumë," Yavanna returned. "Is he within?"

Even in his state of exhaustion, Aulë could not sleep through the deep rumbling that echoed through his bedchamber when someone knocked on the door.

Cursing himself for not taking the time to ask Curumë not to admit any visitors, Aulë walked over to the door, taking a scarlet cape off the wall and throwing it around his shoulders as he drew closer. He opened the door.

"Curumë."

"You have a visitor," Curumë informed him.

Aulë sighed. It was probably Ulmo. Ulmo was the last person Aulë wanted to see right now. "I am very tired, Curumë," he said. "Please pass my apologies onto the visitor and send him away."

"She," came a female voice from behind Curumë, "asks your forgiveness and will leave you in peace when she hears from you that you are all right."

Aulë stiffened, and suddenly did not feel quite so tired anymore. "… Yavanna?"

A/N: Curumë is, in fact, Sauron! According to Christopher Tolkien, "Sauron" means "the abhorred," so I don't think that would be his original name if he was more or less one of the good guys to begin with. The Quenya root word curu means "skill" or "skilled," and this name is intentionally similar to Saruman's true name, Curumo.

Talca Marwa is a title of Aulë meaning "Smith of the world"