Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters/places/events/etc. of Arda belong to me. They're all Tolkien's.

Author's notes: I am currently looking for a beta. If anyone's interested, my e-mail is in my profile.

Chapter Four: Máhanaxar

Námo glared at Vairë, for lack of anything else to glare at. She sat at her loom, weaving the history of Arda. Her eyes were not really focused on her work, as her fingers moved instinctively across the board.

She felt her husband watching her, and turned around.

"What troubles you?" she asked. He sighed.

"It is my brother, once again. I feel something in his plans has gone horribly wrong."

"His plans?" A confused look flitted across her face. "Ah, you speak of the mortal girl."

"Yes. It is the mortal girl from another world. I am sorry, Vairë…I cannot describe it any clearer."

Vairë stood and placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Do not worry, Námo," she said softly. "All will be well."

Námo held up a hand and furrowed his brow, staring at the pure white walls of the room. "My brother comes," he said, just as Irmo appeared in his halls.

"My brother, I must speak to you," the younger of the Fëanturi said. Námo raised an eyebrow.

"How is that for a greeting?" he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Irmo grinned.

"Greetings then, brother," he said. "But I must speak with you. It is a matter of great importance."

"The girl," Námo said. It wasn't a question. Irmo nodded. "Well then, come, and we will talk." He nodded to Vairë, who had returned to her place at the loom, and led his brother into a smaller room.

This room had a deep blue and gold theme, unlike the white marble of the previous. Námo seated himself at a gold-trimmed desk covered in papers and motioned for his brother to take a seat. Irmo did, draping himself over a soft navy chair.

"Now, what has happened?" Námo asked, fearing the worst. His brother shifted uncomfortably, adding to Námo's worry.

"I have brought the girl to Arda," he said slowly. "She is, at the moment, within the borders of Lothlórien." At Námo's stare, he paused.

"I sense you are not telling me the entire story, Irmo," the elder said. Irmo shook his head.

"A border guard has already attempted to take her life," he said. "Aulë provided for me a necklace, which she wears, but its power will soon cease. I fear paranoia resulting from the War will lead to her death."

"You fear when its protective power fails, she may be mistaken for an enemy and killed?" Námo said. "This is a grievous matter." He stood and walked around his desk. "I shall summon a Council of the Valar, where we may discuss this unforeseen complication."

"As I thought you would, my brother," Irmo said. "I thank you."

"Return to your wife, brother; you shall receive the summons to Máhanaxar in due time. Until then, farewell."

"Farewell."

Manwë Súlimo scanned the Ring of Doom, where his kindred spirits sat enthroned in the Council circle. Most

appeared calm and tranquil, though Irmo kept playing with his hands and Námo shot his brother irritated looks every few moments.

It is up to me, then, as neither of the Fëanturi seems willing to begin this Council.

"You have been summoned here at the requests of brothers Námo and Irmo," he began. "Its purpose is to discuss a mortal maiden brought to Middle-earth at the bidding of our Father, Eru Ilúvatar." A slight pause. "Irmo, will you begin?"

Irmo raised his head at the sound of his name. "Ah… Of course," he said.

"I am not sure what knowledge of this you each possess, and what I know has few holes in it. Manwë, then, I ask to speak of this plot so that I may speak freely and clearly."

The Lord of the Air and Windnodded, and proceeded to explain all he knew. Irmo discovered that Manwë knew no more or less than he did

"Yet I do not know our Father's purpose in this plot," he finished. "It is simply that she has a power. I know not what her power is, or the strength, or why it is that this power is needed, but I do know that our Father has decreed this.

"Now, Irmo, will you tell the Council of your experiences bringing the girl into this world?" Irmo nodded and stood, facing Manwë and Varda.

"I received instruction from our Father Eru Ilúvatar as well as the Eight Aratar to send a vision to a mortal girl from another world. This vision, which would come to her in her sleep, was to bring her to Arda, or more specifically, to Middle-earth. I was given no more knowledge than Manwë, in that the girl was to come to Middle-earth and she would have some sort of power. I know no more than that." Irmo paused for a moment, during which he retook his seat.

Another one of the assembled Valar spoke up.

"There is danger, though, I fear. For why would a Council be summoned in such a way if not to discuss hazardous conditions?" Irmo turned to face Oromë.

"Yes, Oromë, I am afraid there is. Her transfer was flawless, and she is now within the borders of Lothlórien. Yet there is danger, for these are dark times in Middle-earth, a new darkness growing. Its inhabitants have become nervous, even paranoid, so that they shoot first and interrogate later."

The assembled Valar murmured nervously.

"Is there a possibility of accidental death by allies?" Nessa asked.

"Yes. She does have a necklace, forged by Aulë, that will identify her as in our favor, but from a distance it is difficult to recognize, especially for mortals. There is an enchantment on it that will prevent her from attack by allies, but that power will soon fail."

Solemn nods around the circle met Irmo's words.

"Does she speak the common language of Middle-earth?" Nienna posed the question that each was wondering.

"Not exactly," Irmo responded. "The necklace allows her to speak Westron, the common tongue, for now. However, that will fail when the protective power of the necklace dies. Then, she must learn the language for herself. That will be up to her."

"For now, then, we must watch over her," Manwë said. "Irmo, I know you have been keeping an eye on her. Continue to do so, and alert any one of the Aratar if you notice anything out of the ordinary." Irmo nodded.

"Are there any other questions from the assembled?" asked Manwë. Each of the Valar shook their heads. "Then the Council is adjourned."

The Sun began to rise over the Pelóri, bathing the Máhanaxar in the golden light of dawn.

Irmo stood, relieved, and took Estë's hand.

"To Lórien, then," he said, smiling at her. She returned his smile, and Irmo turned to his brother.

"Farewell, then, little brother," Námo said, "For now, at least."

"Farewell. I shall see you soon, I feel." Námo rested his hand on his younger brother's shoulder for a moment, then clasped hands with Vairë and departed with the rest of the Valar.

And Irmo left with Estë, he to Lórien and she to Lorellin, to sleep until night fell once more.