Some mentions of violence later. Finrod's death was very traumatising.

Chapter 13:

It was overcast and grey as the Noldorin delegate made their way to the Máhanaxar the next Valanya. Finrod couldn't help thinking it created a slightly creepy atmosphere, in all honesty, even as he wrapped his cloak more firmly around him. Though it was spring, the weather was still unpredictable; as he watched the scuttling clouds, the Noldorin Prince wondered if it would rain before the day was over. Though, surely the Valar wouldn't let that happen? They might have ceased to control the weather patterns in Valinor after the destruction of the Trees, but the trials would be a miserable soggy affair if they let it rain on them...

Eärwen unknowingly echoed his sentiment.

"I hope it doesn't rain. Surely the Valar wouldn't let that happen, though? It would be most uncharacteristic for them."

Arafinwë shrugged. He didn't seem bothered by the weather.

"I am sure they wouldn't have gone to all the trouble holding this trial, and inviting us all, to let it be rained out. Don't worry about it, my dear. They must have their reasons for the clouds."

Finrod personally had his doubts, but conceded his father probably knew the Valar better than he did. With the exception of Námo and Irmo. While the memories of his time in Mandos were hazy, he remembered the feeling of safety and love that had constantly surrounded him. He remembered well the patience Irmo had shown when helping him adjust to having a hröa again, and the way the Vala and his Maiar had helped teach him what he needed to know to adjust back into society. Not to say adjusting to life after his release from the Gardens of Lórien had been easy. But it was easier because of their earlier help.

The Noldorin party arrived at the Máhanaxar in good time, taking up a position between Aulë and Yavanna's thrones. It was the traditional spot they stood, due to the Noldor elves long association with Lord Aulë. When Ingwë and his family arrived, they would stand between Manwë and Varda. Olwë and his family would stand between Ulmo and Tulkas, due to their long association with the Lord of Waters. Any other elves who were going to come and watch (and there was a lot of them, particularly from among the Noldor. The Valar's open invitation had led many to come watch for various reasons) would find positions on a first come, first served, basis. Already, a few early arrivals were hovering between Estë and Vairë's thrones, looking highly uncomfortable at the prospect of this trial. Or maybe it was simply because of the weather. Finrod could relate to either reason.

The trial was set to start mid-morning, just after the first chime of the water bells from Valmar. (They chimed three times a day, mid-morning, mid-day, and mid-afternoon. It was a system implemented so the elves whom lived and worked in Valmar would know what time of day it was, and could structure their lives around it accordingly.) However, the Máhanaxar was packed long before that time, as elves from all across Valinor arrived and jostled to find a good vantage point. Finrod noted, however, that every single one of them carefully avoided Lord Námo's throne. Despite the rest of the spaces between the various thrones being packed, both sides of the Doomsman's throne were completely absent of elves.

They waited for what seemed like forever. Some quietly chatted; most looking around nervously in silence. The first ring of the bells from Valmar caused everyone to jump in fright; a few even let out yelps of shock and surprise. The moment the last chime sounded, without warning, Eönwë appeared in the middle of the ring. He wore his official herald robes and shining ceremonial armour; sheathed sword hanging by his side. His voice rang out loud and clear over the assembled elves, all of whom bowed to him in respect.

"My good Kings, Queens, Princes, Princess, Lords, Ladies and all fair folk. Thank you for joining us here today, on this most sorrowful of occasions. For only the second time in our long history, we find several of the Elder guilty of violating our Peace. This grieves us, as we had hoped the events that happened in our past would have dissuaded others from seeking to do the same thing Fëanor did. Rebel against us and our authority."

Finrod felt himself paling as the Herald spoke. If this situation was comparable to what his uncle had once done…

"However, it appears the events of the Darkening were not enough. Therefore, we have decided to hold a public trial, to show everyone exactly what happened and why we will not tolerate it. As you will see, we do not show favouritism; each one we bring into the Máhanaxar is punished according to their deeds and according to the wills of Lord Manwë Súlimo and Lord Námo Mandos, Ilúvatar's vicegerent in Arda and Doomsman of Arda, respectively."

"Thank you Eönwë."

The voice was like thunder, and there was a bright flash of light that blinded every single elf there for several moments. When their vision cleared, all fourteen thrones were now occupied by fourteen Valar. Fourteen Valar that could have passed for statues, they were so still and grim. To the right of each throne stood their chief Maiar; their expressions also set in stone as they stared ahead, eyes unseeing and posture rigid.

Finrod involuntarily shivered.

He was suddenly immensely glad he wasn't the one on trial here.

Outwardly, his position and expression were set in stone. However, inwardly, Tulkas was dying of laughter.

*Is this really necessary? I feel like an idiot, sitting here loftily, doing absolutely nothing.*

Manwë's mental voice was tinged with amusement, though the tone itself was sad.

*It is necessary, I'm afraid. We need to impress on these elves the gravity and consequences of what happened. We can't have Mairon fearing being hurt any more than he already has been. He's supposed to be safe here; it's up to us to make sure he is.*

The mood sobered as everyone was reminded just why they were here. Finally, Ulmo spoke.

*Well, are we ever going to start? As fun as it is sitting here watching the elves squirm, we do want to get through this by the end of the day. I know you want to use intimidation to help the lesson sink in, but we don't want to overdo it.*

Námo's mental voice was dry.

*It is impossible to overdo the intimidation factor.*

Yavanna mentally snorted.

*Says the Vala who wears hoods purely for the air of mystery they elict.*

*My job requires a certain level of mystery. Manwë, it is time.*

"Bring forth the prisoners."

All the elves jumped as Manwë's words rang out over the Máhanaxar like thunder. Less than three seconds later, a group of eight elves appeared, escorted by Lómindil, Yúcalion, Tindómon, Nécanyellë and Ambariel. All wore the black tabards and tunics of Mandos, and all were armed, thought they didn't intend to use their weapons. Five Maiar was probably slightly overdoing it (even Námo had admitted that; especially with these five), but Manwë had insisted. After he'd explained his reasoning, the other Valar had agreed to do it this way.

Unlike in previous trails (and to prove to the other Valar Manwë did learn from his mistakes), this time they had agreed on a script to follow, or at least use as a guide. As the elves and their guards arrived, Manwë stood.

"Lord Námo. List the charges."

Standing himself so his posture mirrored that of their leader, the Doomsman of Arda laid out the charges. They weren't that terrible, all things considered (and certainly not as bad as the Fëanor-situation had been), but they were still serious. Seeking to break the Valar's Peace, and wilfully hurting one of their own people, were not things to be taken lightly, after all.

Especially given who had been hurt. Manwë observed the culprits pale as the charges against them were laid out for all to see. A couple of them even looked like they were in danger of fainting. Finishing up the charges, the Doomsman levelled his gaze at the cowering elves. His black robes billowed around him in the breeze that had sprung up at some point, making him seem even more imposing than normal, as he stood tall.

"How do you answer these charges?"

Seven of the elves instantly pleaded guilty, clearly terrified by what was happening. The last one returned Námo's gaze with equanimity, defiance and hatred shining there.

"Not guilty. Sauron deserves it all. I am just sorry I didn't get the opportunity to kill him."

The shock that ran through the watching elves was palpable. Out of the corner of his eyes, Manwë noted Finrod's expression darkening, his grey eyes as hard as pieces of flint. Then, Námo spoke.

"So, you are saying you are not guilty of violating our Peace, and hurting one of our own people, one of my own people I might add –" several elves paled even further at hearing that. "And causing him unimaginable harm and anguish in the process?"

Several elves, both the accused and those watching, actually fainted at the fell light Námo's gaze was emitting. The defiant elf, however, did not back down, his eyes practically on fire with rage and hatred.

"Sauron deserved everything that happened to him, and more besides. By rights, he should be in the Void with Morgoth. What lies did he tell you to escape that fate, I wonder? And of course, you believed him. Just like you believed Morgoth was good, and then punished Fëanor for your own incompetence. By rights, my lord should be here with us, but he isn't, because you refuse to release him from your dungeons. I –"

Anger entered Námo's countenance as the elf continued ranting. Foreseeing trouble, Manwë silently intervened.

*Námo, don't. We will punish this one, don't fear. We will punish them all for what they have done, but obliterating him from existence will not solve anything right now.*

The Doomsman was absolutely furious, his expression set and his body tense, though only those whom knew him well were aware of this. However, he obeyed Manwë, sitting down silently, his job done for now. The King of the Valar now took over, looking at the elf with a dark expression of his own.

Due to his generally easy going, friendly and loving personality, many often forgot just who Manwë Súlimo was.

"Should we send you to the Void as well then? Like Morgoth, you have violated our Peace, and sought to hurt others."

The elf paled, his countenance wavering as he broke off mid-rant.

"You wouldn't dare."

Manwë looked at him, unimpressed.

"Are you so sure about that? After all, you yourself have just accused us of being unfair in our judgements."

The dark-haired Noldo paled even further, subconsciously taking a step back. By this point, those watching were either stark white, or had fainted; a few had even taken off running and not stopped. Others were just standing there, trying to act unaffected while carefully not looking at anyone. Satisfied he had gotten his point across to this one, Manwë looked out over the other elves. His blue eyes were as hard and unyielding as shards of diamond.

"Some of you seem to have forgotten a very important and simple fact. Valinor is our land, though we have invited you to live here through a desire to share it with you, Ilúvatar's elder Children. You came here willingly. We have given you all your heart desires, helped you build your cities, provided advice and love when asked, and this is how you seek to repay us?"

"I will admit, what Morgoth did was my fault, and the situation with Fëanor could have been handled better than it was. In light of the circumstances, we weren't totally fair to him, but at the time we did not know the full story. And the reason Fëanor is still in Mandos is because he refuses to repent for wilfully slaying other elves." many of the gathered Teleri winced; Olwë briefly closed his eyes in pain, "Causing his sons to murder both first and second born, including innocent children, in cold blood before dying in horrible ways themselves, and defying not only us, but the authority Ilúvatar himself has invested in us to rule in Arda on his behalf. So long as he believes all this evil was justified because Morgoth killed his father and stole three jewels he made through the skills and resources we taught him and provided him with, Fëanor will remain in Mandos."

Looking around at the silent elves, Manwë spoke in a slightly less frigid tone.

"Prisoner he might be there, but it is by his own choice. Those who end up in Mandos - who repent of their wrong deeds and undergo judgement - are forgiven for everything. They are then after like our own children, until the time is right for them to be re-embodied. They do not suffer; we are not purposefully cruel. We are not like Morgoth."

Manwë looked around at the now silent elves and spoke in an even less frigid tone.

"But that is all in the past now. What is done is done, and even we Valar do not have the power to change things that have already come to pass. If we did, we would first and foremost fix our own mistakes, as none of us are perfect. We have all, at one time, made mistakes the same as every one of you here has; mistakes that led to the suffering of ourselves and others. Mistakes that led to Mairon being hurt by Morgoth, and forced to do his bidding against the inhabitants of Middle Earth."

Manwë had to pause for breath at this point. However, before he could continue speaking, Finrod stepped forward into the Ring. His eyes were blazing with hatred that rivalled the elf on trial, yet there was also a depth of pain there that would have shaken any but the Valar to their core.

"What does all this have to do with Sauron? Is he really here, under your protection? He imprisoned Beren, myself and twelve of my most loyal men, feeding us to his wolves alive one-by-one. I died in a stinking dungeon in a castle I had ordered built, after watching my companions, people I thought of as brothers, being ripped apart by those wolves. No excuses in the world can excuse what he did."

Finrod's eyes blazed with anger and pain. Manwë's gaze did not falter, even as his mouth thinned.

"Do you similarly hold those elves Morgoth enslaved responsible for what he made them do?"

Finrod blinked, taken back.

"Of course not. They didn't have a choice about what they did if they wanted to live. Sauron –"

"Similarly had no choice in what he did. Morgoth made sure of that."

Finrod was stunned into silence. His eyes bulged, and he blinked rapidly, trying to assimilate this bit of information. Leaving the elf gaping for the time being, Manwë turned to regard the other elves gathered around.

"His name is Mairon, not Sauron, and yes, he is here with us. He is now one of Lord Námo's People, and my brother-Vala takes a very dim view of anything that possesses a threat to his people and those under his protection." Manwë smiled grimly. "If he had his way, these elves would most likely end up in the Void or, failing that, Mandos. However, even Morgoth was not punished that harshly at first, and we can hardly punish another in this way when they did less harm without being unfair. That is why we are holding this public trial. In a while, you will be given a chance to air any grievances you might have regarding our decisions, and what we do here today. In this way, we hope to avoid a repeat incident like the last one."

Manwë's stern expression clearly stated the time to air complaints was not now, even as he continued speaking.

"It is our hope you who are here today will come out of this knowing why we did what we will do. I also hope this will drive home to you all the gravity of what happened here. Know that anyone who seeks to do any other being harm and violate our Peace after this, and especially harms those who are under our protection, will not be treated as leniently. Consider yourself warned."

No elf could meet his gaze as he said those words, all looking away or down at the ground. Manwë let the heavy silence stretch on for a long moment. No one dared break it. Even the defiant (but now pale and sullen) Noldo from earlier didn't say a word. Finally, after he judged everyone was suitably uncomfortable, the King of the Valar spoke again.

"In order to confirm once and for all the validity of our words, I will now summon Mairon, who has agreed to appear at these trials and confirm that he is indeed under our protection, and welcome here." Manwë looked across at Finrod, easily discerning the elf's thoughts without even trying. "Even you do not know Mairon, Finrod. None of you do. Mairon is not Sauron - and does not wish to be. All he wants is to be able to live quietly here, free from fear that he will be hurt. After knowing the full story, we Valar have decided to grant him that. Know that any who aim to gainsay us on that point will be punished."

Manwë looked at the elves. Their expressions ranged from curious to fear to silent outrage at his words, just as he'd expected they would. However, they were at least smart enough not to voice any objections. At least for now. Giving a silent weary sigh at the burden of responsibility that was his, Manwë spoke.

"Lord Námo. Summon Mairon."