Chapter 14: The apology

Finrod closed his eyes at Lord Manwë's words, his vision threatening to tunnel if he didn't. Memories of his death threatened to overwhelm him, so he missed the Maia's arrival in the Máhanaxar. When he felt ready to open his eyes, the first thing he saw was the lone figure standing slightly in front and to the right of Lord Námo's throne. A figure who looked like an elf at first glance, but clearly wasn't, when you looked closer. While he was about the same height as an elf (which was a surprise; Finrod's memories of Sauron had him as being a giant who'd towered over them in dark horror), this incarnate form clearly belonged to the Ainur. They might take on fanar that looked like the elven hröar, but they still contained subtle differences when you knew what to look for.

The Maia had bright copper hair reaching to his waist (Finrod couldn't help but feel slightly envious at the length, even as it puzzled him. He didn't remember Sauron having such long hair) He was dressed in a simple natural-coloured linen robe, over which he wore Lord Námo's floor-length black surcoat. The sleeves of the robe were long, covering half his hands, and his feet were encased in soft-looking leather boots. He was looking at the ground near his feet, so Finrod couldn't see his face.

The elf frowned, even as his gaze roved over the other being, looking for some sign that would tell him this was indeed Sauron. Nothing about him was familiar. This unassuming Maia looked nothing like his memories of his tormentor/torturer. Honestly, if he'd seen him walking down the street like this, Finrod would not have looked twice.

And the elf did not know what to make of that realisation.

Then again, he only had the word of the Valar that this was Sauron. Finrod resisted an urge to rub his forehead, as his brain worked furiously trying to process all this.

Not recognising his supposed torturer was doing his head in. He'd been so sure he would never forget Sauron, not after what he'd done to them...

Just as he was thinking these things, the Maia lifted his head, locking eyes with Finrod.

The elf froze, his thoughts stuttering to a halt.

Those eyes.

Finrod felt his vision threaten to tunnel again as those large golden eyes met his own grey ones. He remembered those eyes all too well. Cold and dead and completely dispassionate as he'd watched Finrod's friends being eaten…

The Maia flinched away, visibly swallowing, before looking straight at Finrod again. The pain and regret in his gaze was so strong, it sent the elf physically stumbling back a few steps, gaze rooted to them.

"I am sorry, Finrod. For everything. Words cannot adequately express the regret and self-hate I feel towards what happened. Towards what I did to you. And none of it can be changed, no matter how much I want to go back and undo things. But –"

Tears welled up, spilling from the Maia's golden eyes, as he kept his gaze locked with Finrod's.

"I am sorry. For it all. You – you should have just killed me outright, not challenged me. You would have won. I am not a fighter, I – I don't like violence. I never have." The Maia broke off with a choked sob. "Ironic, considering all I've done, I know..."

The Maia gave a full-body shudder as he closed his eyes. Pain and loathing was etched into his features; and the only sound that could be heard was his too-rapid breathing. It could have been an age later, or merely a few minutes (time having lost its meaning) before he opened his eyes again. This time, his gaze was surer, if somewhat broken, as he looked straight at an ashen-faced Finrod.

"I would have welcomed it, even. Death that is. I have heard the dead feel no pain. That-that would be nice."

The more the Maia talked, the more Finrod felt he was in the middle of a bad dream. This could not be real. Sauron apologising to him, and saying he wished Finrod had killed him?...

"I have been hurting for so long, I do not remember a time when I did not feel pain. Melkor hurt me, Finrod. More than he ever hurt any of you. I-I-I-"

The Maia let out a broken sob, tears streaming down his face by this point.

"I am so sorry. For everything I did to everyone. I-I deserve the Void, or worse. I know that. I-I don't deserve mercy."

"You do."

Everyone, even some of the other Valar, started when Lord Oromë suddenly spoke. His voice was very quiet, but the thread of determination and conviction in it could have cut stone. His eyes, however, held a gentleness Finrod was not used to seeing in any Valar. The copper-haired Maia shifted his gaze, looking up at the Lord of the Hunt in open shock.

"Y-You mean that?"

Oromë nodded, his gaze softening even further.

"Yes. I may have been against it at first, but you have more than justified the decision to show you mercy – to give you a second chance. I am sorry I was so against it in the beginning, Mairon. I am afraid I let my experiences of what Morgoth did blind me to all but the need to eradicate his stain from the world using any means necessary. That wasn't fair to you. Manwë." The Huntsman turned to face their leader. "In the presence of all these witnesses, I formally withdraw all my previous objections regarding Mairon's presence here. ALL of them. He deserves to be here, and not be punished for his past actions against us. They are in the past now, and he has repented of them all many times over. Mairon should not have to live with his past hanging over him like it is, always in fear it will come back to bite him. That is not fair nor right. That is all I have to say on the matter, but know that I will defend Mairon with my wrath if anyone ever decides to go after him for any reason ever again."

There was dead silence when Oromë finished speaking. No one, not even the other Valar, quite knew what to say or do. Though they all kept their expressions carefully blank for the sake of the elves. Who were all in various states of shock. Suddenly worried, Námo silently called several of his Maiar to his side, instructing them to remain unclad while keeping an eye on the elves. That done, the Vala turned his attention to Mairon, who was being hugged by an unclad Marilwë. She had not left his side the entire time, just like Mairon had asked her to.

Those two were very close, and growing closer by the day...

*Mairon, are you alright?*

Námo gently reached out to his youngest, waiting until Mai accepted the mental connection before continuing. Despite the Maia not guarding his mind around Námo, that didn't mean the Vala wasn't going to ask permission before he did anything.

*I – I will be. C-can I please go now, my lord?*

Námo gently ran a mental hand through his hair.

*Yes, my son. You may. Would you like me to come with you?*

Mairon shook his head.

*No. I – I will be okay. I think Finrod needs you more than I at present.*

Námo's eyes immediately swivelled around to look at the elf, who was stark white and swaying dangerously.

*Vanimeldë!*

Less than a second later, the Maia materialised by the elf's side, catching him before his hröa could hit the ground. Vanimeldë gently cradled the shaking elf to her chest, softly singing a lullaby to him in Valarin. When Finrod was a bit calmer, she reached out to Námo, speaking via ósanwe.

*My lord, what do you want me to do with him?*

Námo's voice was gentle, if slightly distant. He was currently splitting his attention between multiple people, but immediately answered Vanimeldë.

*For now, exactly what you are doing. I am shielding you both, so the other elves don't realise anything is wrong with Finrod. He does not need that sort of embarrassment. I was worried something like this may happen, which is why I wanted you here. Despite his time spent with me and my brother, Finrod still harbours hatred and resentment in his heart towards Sauron – and has not fully accepted his own death and what it cost him. The fact Mairon is not the same Maia who hurt him does not matter. It is something I will need to address with him, but now is not the time.* Námo reached out his consciousness, gently running a hand through Finrod's hair, though physically his fana did not move. *Stay with him until he is okay, then discreetly fade. But don't go far. You may be needed again.*

The Maia nodded, mentally inclining her head to her lord.

*I live to serve you, my lord. Your command is my will.*

Námo sent a gentle caressing thought her way.

*Thank you, my daughter. I am very blessed to have you all.*

*Is Mairon okay, Námo?*

Námo mentally nodded to Manwë.

*Yes. He is. Shall we get on with this?*

Manwë mentally nodded before speaking, startling all the elves, who'd fallen under some kind of spell of silence at some point.

"Now that we have made our stance on Mairon clear, it is time to pass sentence on those whom sought to disturb our peace by harming one under OUR protection…"

Námo was exhausted by the time he got back to Mandos later that day.

After Mairon had left, the Valar wasted no time in moving the Trial along. Even though most of the elves had still been in a state of shock over the events that had transpired. It had taken a while for them all to come out of it, but the ultimate result of Mairon's apology (and Oromë's confession; that had also shaken the elves) had been something none of the Valar had seen coming.

Not even Námo, with his foresight, had known the outcome of this Trial until it happened in front of him.

Not only had the spectators accepted their fellows had done wrong, they had offered no objections to their punishment. Which weren't terrible, all things being considered. They were harsh, but fair, especially seeing the elves had defied the Valar. After what had just happened, Námo knew the elves would be very careful with what they did in the future. None of them wanted to go through what those on trial had gone through today.

Though Námo had a feeling he would be getting a visit from Finrod in the not-too-distant future. That elf did not know when to leave things alone, and Námo knew today's events had shaken him to his core. Give him a few days to think it all over, and the Doomsman knew he'd be faced with an uncharacteristically overly emotional elf. Finrod was one of the most composed elves out there in every aspect but one.

His death.

Námo shut his eyes, briefly allowing himself the luxury of pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply. Seriously, when had his life become so complicated?

Taking a deep breath, the Vala opened his eyes, reaching his consciousness out into Mandos. It didn't take him long to find the person he sought, and even less time to think himself to one of Vairë's smaller workrooms.

Mairon was sitting sideways in one of the large cushioned window seats, legs stretched out in front of him. The Maia was resting the side of his head against the window, staring at the raindrops trickling down the other side of the glass. It had started raining not long after the trial had concluded, yet long enough for the elves to get undercover (the Valar didn't want to be accused of rigging the weather on top of everything else that had happened today). Marta was curled up on his lap, fast asleep; Mairon was absently petting her. She really was getting bigger, Námo realised, noting the way she didn't even fit properly on Mairon's lap like she'd used to. While she wasn't going anywhere regardless of how big she got, the Vala made a mental note to chase up Yavanna at some point to ask her how big Marta was likely to get.

Mairon was still wearing the robe and surcoat he'd worn at the trial, though he'd switched out his boots for the soft fleece-lined house slippers Námo had given him at the beginning of last winter. While he was now at the point where he would ask for things, he tended only to ask if he considered them necessities.

And his idea of necessities often differed from Námo's.

Not that the Vala ever needed any reason to spoil those under his care.

Mairon tilted his head back as Námo came over to him, smiling up at the Vala.

"How did it go?"

Námo nodded.

"Not too bad. Everyone was in too much shock to voice many objections to the sentence. Which was fair. Even I will admit that. Though that elf who openly defied us is going to be spending some quality one-on-one time with my sister, and the rest of them are in isolation and under house arrest in Lórien. They will remain there, under the supervision of my brother, Estë and their Maiar, until they rethink their attitudes somewhat."

Mairon shrugged.

"People will think what they want to think. I – I can't change people's minds. All I can do is apologise for what I've done." The Maia sighed heavily, resting his head back against the glass. "I don't think Finrod took it very well."

Námo internally winced.

"He didn't. But you did the right thing; his reactions are not your fault. Even if you did give me a heart-attack in the process. A little warning would have been nice."

While his tone was serious, it was also playful, and Mairon's lips twitched upwards.

"I like keeping things interesting. But, in all honesty, I shocked myself as well. I – I didn't plan on doing that. But…it, just felt right. To apologise to all the elves for what I did."

"For what Melkor made you do. You didn't have a choice."

"What happened to Finrod and Beren was my choice."

"Made because you feared what Melkor would do if you failed him."

Mairon visibly drooped.

"I failed him anyway. Looking back, I wonder if he could be pleased. He was never happy with anything I did."

"Melkor never cared for anyone but himself. His actions are not your fault."

"I know that. Doesn't make it easier to live with what I did. Especially not when everyone still hates me for it."

Námo visibly sighed.

"These things take time, Little One. What happened today at least made the elves stop and think, which is a start. Healing hurts like these take time. But, I am confident we will get there. Just give it time. You've been here less than five years; we can't expect that to be enough time to override the thousands of years that came before it."

Mairon sighed.

"You are right. It's just that things seem to be getting harder the more time that passes, not easier. Is that normal?"

"There are always rough patches with anything. Especially when the Children are involved. They are…complicated."

Mairon snorted.

"That's one thing we agree on."

Námo smiled sadly as he placed a gentle hand on Mairon's shoulder. The Maia melted into the touch with a sigh, tension bleeding out of his body at the simple gesture. Námo gently rubbed a thumb over the nape of his neck.

"All will eventually be resolved. I can promise you that. It will just take time. And you aren't alone either, Mai. You have me, and Vairë, and our Maiar. We all love having you here. You are part of our family. Whatever happens in the future, we will all face it together. That is what family is for."