Notes: Well, I'm back. And this time, I intend to finish posting this part at least. It's all there written, I'd just lost all motivation to do anything. I've moved onto writing more original stuff, but all the lovely (and pleading, and outright threatening) reviews I periodically get for this story have me finally caving in. I can only apologise to those who haven't lost interest in this idea. But, as a peace offering, I will be uploading all the rest of the chapters of this part over the next few days. I will go through and see if spellcheck picks up anything, but otherwise, I am not going to edit before posting. I don't feel up to it, and I think everyone will be happiest if I just get it up here rather then fussing about it being perfect grammar-wise.

Chapter 12: Preparations for a Trial

Three days later.

"I've decided I will attend the elven Trials, my lord. However, I don't want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary."

Námo nodded to Mairon.

"That's fair. Very well, I will let Manwë know. As you know, the Trial has been postponed a few days while we organise things, but we aim to hold it next Valanya. That should give the elves plenty of time to arrive; many of them are already in Eldamar. Ingwë, Olwë, and Arafinwë are all coming with their entourages, which is going to be fun." Námo's tone and expression suggested it wouldn't necessarily be the type of things most people found fun, but he would. "Entourages which includes their heirs. Which means Finrod will be there."

Mairon froze. Horror overtook his features, and he began shaking his head rapidly, even as he backed up.

"Nonononononono…"

Having been expecting something like this, Námo caught the Maia before he'd taken more than three steps back. Cradling him close to his chest, the Vala hugged Mairon reassuringly.

"It will be okay, Mai. I'll be there; as will all the other Valar. If Finrod objects to anything, we will deal with it."

Mairon's voice was choked as he struggled not to cry. Since his kidnapping and subsequent rescue, his emotional responses had been all over the place. Námo held him closer.

"I d-didn't mean to kill him."

Námo nodded.

"I know. It was an unfortunate accident for all involved. However, don't think Finrod was innocent when he died. He's done his fair share of questionable things, which often resulted in injuries or death to others. He knew the risks his quest involved, and accepted them."

Mairon's voice was still full of tears.

"But he still died in my dungeons, at the jaws of one of my werewolves. Who I'd sent to kill Beren, his friend." The Maia broke off with a sob, starting to tremble uncontrollably. Námo's grip tightened even more as he held the Maia protectively, lending him strength and support and reminding him he was loved.

While Mairon was recovering from his kidnapping remarkably well, all things considered, he was still more insecure and unsure about himself then he'd been in ages. He needed frequent reassurances he was safe and loved and not alone. Which was why he was sleeping back in Námo and Vairë's bed, cuddling up as close as he could to the Doomsman all night long. Marta was in with them as well, and spent her nights curled up between Mai and Vairë, purring Mairon to sleep. Speaking of that cat…

"Where's Marta? I think you'd benefit from having her around right now."

Mairon hiccupped.

"I don't know."

As soon as he heard that, Námo reached his consciousness out into Mandos, searching. It didn't take him long to find the cat. As soon as he did, he mentally grabbed hold of her. Moments later, a giant hissing fur ball appeared in front of them. Mairon gave a glad cry, untangling himself from Námo's arms and throwing himself at Marta. Burying his face in her soft fluffy fur, the Maia sobbed brokenly as he clutched her to him like a lifeline. Which she was, the Doomsman thought, gently rubbing Mai's back. He'd never seen an animal bond with anyone like Marta had with Mairon (though he'd never really been around animals much before). But he knew the Maia relying on her for emotional support, and physical and emotional comfort.

Mairon soon calmed down, helped no doubt by Marta's deep rhythmic purrs which vibrated through him. Námo continued rubbing his back long after the sobs had subsided. Eventually, he spoke softly.

"Do not let what happened burden you, Mairon. You didn't have free will in your decisions leading to that whole mess. You're not to blame for what happened. Nor is Finrod. Melkor is; he's the one who hurt you all. And things turned out okay in the end."

Mairon lifted his tear-stained face from Marta's fur, shaking his head.

"No, it didn't. I lost everything that day, my only friend chief among them." Mairon sniffed, running a hand across his face. Námo thought a handkerchief into existence and handed it to him, waiting patiently for Mairon to say more. When it became obvious he wasn't going to, the Vala spoke, carefully choosing his words.

"You are referring to Thuringwethil, aren't you?"

Mairon hiccupped again, nodding. His head hung in defeat as he closed his eyes, exhaustion and grief overtaking him.

"Yes." He swallowed loudly. "I never saw her again after that day. S-she must have died at some point. I h-hope she isn't b-being tortured in t-the V-void."

Námo pulled him into another hug.

"I would not worry about that, my little one. Atar is merciful and good. I'm sure he wouldn't let her suffer. No matter how bad her deeds were."

Mairon sighed, taking some comfort in his words, unfounded though they might be.

"I hope so. She didn't deserve what happened to her. What He did to her."

Námo stroked his hair.

"Neither of you deserved what happened. Which is why Atar sent you back here to me to be healed. I'm sure he wouldn't have forgotten about Thuringwethil. Or any of the others who didn't deserve what they got."

Mairon cuddled into him further.

"You think so?"

Námo's voice left no room for disagreement.

"I know so. Trust in Atar, little one. He's the only one who's never messed things up. Unlike all the rest of us."

Mairon looked up at him.

"You've messed things up?"

Námo almost smiled.

"Yes. Not often, but I've done a few less than stellar things in my time. And I've made some questionable decisions along the way. None of us are perfect, Mai. It doesn't matter if you are Valar, Maiar, Firstborn, or Secondborn. Or Dwarven. We all have our faults and flaws. Only Atar can claim perfection. All we can do is aim to follow his example, trusting he will be patient and still love us when we inevitably fall short of the mark."

Mairon was silent for a long time after that, mulling things over. Námo started humming softly, and in no time at all Mairon was fast asleep. The Vala continued humming as he sat there, contemplating past, present and future events, as he enjoyed some quiet time with his youngest son.

While his visions didn't confirm anything, Námo had a feeling their world was about to be thrown into even more turmoil than anyone realised.

…

Námo watched Manwë as he took a sip of his miruvórë. The Elder King looked much more centred and thoughtful then he had before their 'little chat' a few days ago, which Námo felt could only be a good thing. The future was precarious enough as it was. They needed Manwë to be at his best to lead them through it.

"Námo. I – I want to say thank you. For bringing me to my senses."

Námo raised an eyebrow.

"My pleasure. You've spoken with Eönwë?"

Manwë nodded. His manner was much surer, and more decisive, then it'd been a few short days back.

"Yes. Last night. We spoke for hours. I told him everything, like you recommended. He understood." Manwë looked rather surprised at that. "During our talk, he displayed a level of maturity and wisdom that makes me feel even more ashamed of the way I've been acting. I realised, in that moment, that my own chief Maia is almost like a stranger. I don't know so much about him."

Námo's voice and countenance remained neutral.

"I trust you're going to fix that?"

Manwë nodded firmly.

"Yes, I am. But Eönwë isn't the only one I must make amends to. I have more Maiar than anyone else in my service, and I've not treated any of them the way they deserve. I – have a lot of work ahead of me, earning their love and trust back. Eönwë isn't the only one to almost seem like a stranger, when I started thinking about it."

Námo couldn't keep the satisfaction out of his voice.

"Then I'm glad things turned out for the better. Is Eönwë allowed to wear wings on his fana while he teaches the Edain now?"

Manwë nodded.

"Yes, he is. I was very wrong about that. He told me last night many asked him what had happened to his wings; were initially thrown he didn't look the same as he did during the War." Manwë sighed, staring mournfully into his glass for a moment. "I have a lot of repairing to do. Eönwë, at least, doesn't hold anything against me. I'm not sure the same can be said for some of the others."

"Have you spoken to any of them yet?"

Manwë shook his head.

"No. Not yet, but I will. I'm still figuring out the best way to go about it."

"I am sure Eönwë would be able to help you with that. He's not only your chief Maia, but chief of them all. He's the oldest of everyone. They look up to him."

Manwë nodded.

"I know. I've been observing my and Varda's Maia these last few days. It isn't hard to pick up that they are not all happy, now I'm aware of how I've been acting." The Elder King sighed again, before raising his eyes to focus on Námo. "I think a very public apology to them all is in order before anything else. And, while I will not be able to repair all the damage I've done overnight, I would at least like to do the apology before the Elven Trials."

Both Valar were silent for a time. Námo eventually broke it.

"Mairon has agreed to come, but only briefly, at the beginning."

An expectant silence stretched between them, until it became apparent Námo was not about to say anything else. Manwë just nodded.

"Okay. That's fair. I need to apologise to him at some point as well."

Námo blinked, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"Why?"

Manwë wasn't surprised at the question.

"For how insensitive and indifferent I must have seemed towards him before. I didn't mean it that way. In fact, I think I owe every single Maiar in Valinor an apology."

Námo's expression of awed shock at Manwë's admission was priceless. It was actually a few moments before he collected his thoughts enough to speak.

"You're a different Vala to the one I spoke to a few days ago."

Manwë nodded.

"I know. Atar and I had a long talk after you left. He – made me see things in a different light."

A genuine smile played at Námo's lips.

"For that, I am glad. We need you to be strong and in command Manwë, with the upcoming Trials we must get through. The elven ones will be comparably easy, compared to those we must put Nehtartúra and co. through. Nehtartúra, especially, is going to need a firm, yet totally fair, hand. None of us can afford to show any weakness in front of him, as he'll just turn it back on us and disregard everything we say. And I'd prefer not to use force on him if we absolutely don't have to. Any one of us Vala could subdue him by ourselves, but hopefully it won't come to that."

"Agreed." Manwë nodded. "Yes, we'll give him a chance to cooperate first. If he rejects it, and I have a feeling he might, we can always fall back on force as a last resort."

The silence stretched on. Eventually broken by Manwë.

"Námo...when I started thinking clearly again, something occurred to me that I would like to address with you."

Námo raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"The way you talk about Mairon being yours...how is that different to what Melkor did to him? If my behaviour could be interpreted the way it was, how about yours?"

Námo's expression was blank.

"It's different."

Manwë's gaze did not relent.

"How? Because it seems similar to me."

"While I am possessive, I do it out of love and concern. I communicate this with my children. If anyone ever has any questions about anything or wants to be treated another way, they know they can come and talk to me about it. Or about anything. We're a tight-knit community in Mandos. We rely on each other a lot."

Manwë pursed his lips.

"Still sounds suspect. And if you're allowed to interfere in my affairs, then I'm justified to raise concerns about yours. I've come to realise recently there is a fine line between care and abuse. Talking to Eönwë showed me that."

"He is quite incredible."

"Yes. But that doesn't change the fact I can't know for sure how yours feel about your possessiveness of them. If Mairon was really hurt that bad and controlled so hard, how does he feel about your behaviour?"

Námo's voice was quiet.

"It makes him feel safe. He's told me. They all have. My behaviour shows they're loved and valued to me. And it goes both ways. You may not see it, but I belong to them just as much as they are mine."

Manwë still did not look convinced or happy with that answer.

"Eönwë has never said anything much about his time with you. Given all that's happened recently, I am wondering. No one's perfect."

"No. But I foster and encourage open communication with everyone. If anyone had concerns about anything, I would hope the first thing they'd do was come talk to me."

"And if they didn't?"

Námo's voice was quiet.

"If they didn't, I would hope I know them all well enough to realise something was wrong without having to be told."

Finrod reined in his horse in front of the royal town house in Eldamar, where they'd be staying until after these trials the Valar were holding concluded. Finrod still wasn't sure how he felt about this whole situation, especially with the rumours Sauron was behind it all. He still had the occasional nightmare about his death, and wasn't about to forgive the Maia who'd caused it any time soon. If he was really involved with this…

The Crown Prince of the Noldor shuddered as he dismounted. Finrod didn't know what exactly had gone down that had led to several of the Noldor elves being imprisoned and brought to trial before the Valar; none of them did. Not even Ingwë, and he was High King of the elves. However, rumours said it had something to do with Sauron, whom was apparently living in Valinor with the Valar.

Finrod curled up his lip in disguise at that thought, waiting for his father to lead the Noldorin delegation into the townhouse. Trust that slimy servant of Melkor to trick the Valar into not banishing him to the Void alongside his late master. How he'd apparently escaped that fate, given all he'd done, Finrod honestly did not know.

But then, the Valar had always been soft with their own. Especially Lord Manwë. It sometimes seemed like the Elder King was the reason for all the elves problems. Realistically Finrod knew that wasn't strictly true. However, there was a ring of truth to it, as he had been the one to realise Morgoth...

"Why that look, Findaráto?"

The prince was jerked out of his thoughts by his father's voice. Arafinwë looked just as travel-worn and weary as he did; perhaps even more so. The skin around his eyes was tighter than normal, the only outward sign of the stress he was currently under, even as his eyes radiated concern for his only living son.

"It's nothing. I was just thinking about things. I – don't know how to feel about all this."

There was a time, not even that long ago, when Finrod had struggled to communicate with his father. Arafinwë was a different elf to the one Finrod remembered before leaving Valinor; and the changes had taken a lot of getting used to. It didn't help Finrod himself was also changed from both his experiences on Middle Earth, and his death and all that came after. While he didn't regret leaving Valinor, he did regret the way it had come about. And he still deeply regretted leaving his father the way he had. While his and Arafinwë's relationship was improved now, it had taken a lot of work to get there.

The King nodded in understanding to his son's answer.

"I know. It doesn't help we don't even know what happened, or who exactly is being put on trial. All we know is they are Noldor. We'll find out everything soon, however. Have some faith in the Valar, Findaráto. They never do anything without reason."

That was easy for his father to say, Finrod thought, falling into step behind the King. Except for the Fëanturi (who'd looked after him during and after his stay in Mandos) Finrod didn't have much faith in any of the Valar. He'd seen first-hand the way they'd ignored the suffering of the inhabitants of Middle Earth, allowing Morgoth (whom was only free because they'd let him out of Mandos!) to do as he pleased.

And now, they'd apparently let his Chief Lieutenant and Servant of Evil live with them. Leading to several of his fellow Noldor elves being brought to trial in the Máhanaxar. While Finrod had no desire to leave Valinor again, it was this kind of attitude that'd made him want to leave in the first place. He well remembered the last time an elf had been tried in the Ring of Doom, and how unfair the Valar's verdict had been. Exiling Fëanor and half the Noldor when it was Morgoth, one of their own, whom had caused all the problems.

Reaching the room that would be his for the next week or so, the Crown Prince of the Noldor stripped off his outer garments, throwing himself on the bed. Finrod closed his eyes, too tired to even have a bath first. The ride from Tirion had been brutal, the King pushing them all far harder than usual. Finrod knew Arafinwë wanted to arrive in Eldamar in time to talk to Olwë and Ingwë beforehand, but their pace meant they'd arrived before even the other two kings. And they still had three days until the trial as well.

As he drifted into elven dreams, Finrod briefly wondered what was so important to his father that it couldn't wait an extra day or two to arrive here.

Valanya: sixth day of the Eldarin six-day week, dedicated to the Valar.

Eldamar: Dwelling place of the Eldar (elves). My own creation; a town where those elves whom serve the Valar live. Located less than an hour away from Valmar, even on foot.