A/N: Part of this chapter includes elements from Gilfanon's Tale, from The Lost Tales, and is about the only story regarding the Avari. And so here I have attempted to give an explanation for "Thû" involving multiple characters.
The Maia was awakened by cold water splashing on his face and the familiar scent of dew on blades of grass. His blurry vision revealed a sea of pale faces and dark eyes staring back at him.
"He is beautiful," one whispered. "Can I touch him?"
Another slapped his hand away. "No! We consult Nuin the Wise first."
They took a giant leap backwards when Mairon sat up groggily, rubbing his head and trying to remember where he was.
The Elves had gone silent, watching with wide eyes. But it wasn't long before the whispering began again.
"What do we do?"
"Let's keep him!" suggested some.
"I think he is a god," discerned another.
"Go ask him."
The bravest among them came forward and knelt at a safe distance from Mairon. But before he could ask, a few of the others pulled him away, insisting they wait for their leader.
The rest of the Elves reluctantly agreed, but they had already gathered into a tight circle around Mairon and refused to budge. They only inched back a little when another Elf entered the clearing.
He was dressed better than them, in fine robes and with a headdress of silver branches. His hair was long and dark, but his eyes were darker, so much so that the stars reflected within them.
Mairon would not have recognized him, if it had not been for the same expression of contempt he had last seen him wearing-for Nuin had recognized him immediately.
"Fools! Get away from him!"
His kindred scrambled away, confused at his sudden burst of anger.
"But Nuin, he was just lying here-" they tried to explain.
"His alliance is towards the heartless monsters that have tortured us relentlessly. Leave him here to perish."
The Elves clearly could not make the connection.
"Can't we just take him with us-?"
"No! Thû shall know of this immediately. Go, tell him!"
Mairon's curiosity was piqued. He turned his head to face them. "Who is Thû?"
Nuin turned on him, his eyes nearly ablaze with fury.
"None of your concern."
Mairon arched an eyebrow, staring at the jewelry adorning the Elf's neck and arms.
"What's this? Have you become like a king, in such a short time?"
Nuin scowled at his friendly tone. "No. Thû is in charge, not I. Soon he will know of your presence and get rid of you."
"He sounds dreadful."
Nuin sneered, crossing his arms over his chest in a demeaning manner. "Why are you even here? Are your murderous creatures nearby?"
"No, I come alone. Did I not say I would?"
The dark Elf fluttered his eyelids in annoyance. "That isn't necessary. We were perfectly content in your absence."
Mairon climbed to his feet. "And this Thû...did he bestow these riches on you?"
Nuin backed up nervously once Mairon towered over him, but he stood his ground. "I am not telling you anything."
His voice was firm, and his eyes so cold and obstinate that Mairon felt a stirring of respect.
He beckoned to his followers, turning abruptly on his heel. "Leave him here to perish."
The Elves reluctantly got up and walked off in single file along the river, casting occasional glances over their shoulders.
Mairon unclothed himself to be invisible to their eyes and followed them to their village.
They stopped in a clearing of several wooden huts surrounding a central hearth. Some tools and ornaments lay scattered around, but otherwise it was quite bare. Once they arrived, the Elves set about their usual tasks. Nuin sat down farthest from the rest of them, keeping watch while holding a bow in his lap. He took out an arrow and string to fit it.
The Maia came closer to observe him, and suddenly Nuin looked up and his eyes narrowed. Mairon paused, waiting until the Elf relaxed and returned to stringing his bow.
He did a thorough search, but there was no sign of anyone else here. Perhaps Thû was only an imaginary deity they worshiped… yet he wasn't so sure.
The Maia gave up looking and went back the way he came.
At the edge of the forest, he lay in the grass and stared up at the dark sky through the trees. Melkor's words leaked into his thoughts, repeating over and over.
Where you go is hardly my concern.
The Vala's indifferent expression flashed before his eyes, and along with his stinging words it was almost too much to bear. Mairon stood up and paced beside the road his spies often took, keeping a fervent watch for their arrival.
He was relieved when they finally showed up on their usual route, and once he motioned the two strayed from their path to go over to him.
"Lord Mairon," they greeted, their yellow eyes glowing in the dark.
"I have a favor to ask of you," he said. "Come with me."
The three of them entered the woods, the two spies following close behind Mairon. The latter retraced the path around Ered Luin that he had taken with the band of orcs to Cuviénen.
Once they reached a flat hilltop from which the forestland and its surrounding villages could be viewed, he stopped to face them again.
"Find me a being named Thû -not an Elf, a Maia perhaps. He should be dwelling somewhere near here."
After giving them directions and more specific instructions, they parted ways. The wolves went off on their errand while Mairon turned back to await their response.
In the meantime, he would need a place to stay. And it certainly wasn't going to be with the orcs.
So he chose the next worst thing.
"He's come back to grant us our positions!" Mairon heard them telling each other in the darkness, before he was even aware of their presence. Shadows crept over the forest floor and faint lights twinkled up in the highest branches.
One of the wraiths appeared in front of him. His shadowy face was twisted into a suspicious glare. "Is that true?"
"It is," he answered, and immediately the other two appeared beside the first.
"Did you tell our names to the Master?" Ugdun asked. "Is he pleased with us?"
"He's very pleased. He wants your positions returned to you as soon as possible," Mairon answered. "But it will require a lot of work."
The three of them let out a collective groan.
"It seems these idle ages have left you soft," he said. "But no longer. Our first task is to raise some sort of a dwelling place, so that we may assert ourselves from it. We can mine the stone from the mountains to the north."
"And you expect us to do this ourselves?" they asked incredulously.
"Of course not," he scoffed. "I recall you telling me there were many of you. Surely they can all help."
The wraiths went to gather the others from the forest, and a few hours later there were no less than a hundred of them hard at work on the slopes of Ered Gorgoroth. Orcs would have been unnerved to stand so close to those gloom-infested caverns, but the wraiths pushed the grisly spider shapes out of the way like they were mere annoyances, as they picked out slabs of rock and dressed them into square blocks.
Ugdun carried a pile of the blocks in his arms and tried to keep up with Mairon, who was walking ahead to look for a good place to build.
The latter stopped in a secluded region of Dorthonion, barricaded by the precipices of the mountains to the south and surrounded by dense forest, and placed his hands on his hips while he assessed the location.
"Here?" Ugdun gasped, out of breath. He tripped and fell on his face in the dirt, dropping the pile in front of him.
"Perfect." The Maia reached down to pick up the blocks and set them in a row, then knelt on the ground and drew a series of interconnecting lines to indicate the size and shape of the structure.
He got back on his feet and brushed the dust off his legs, frowning at his companion. "Why are you still lying there? Go and bring the rest."
Ugdun returned to the quarry site, and shortly afterwards the remaining wraiths brought their finished blocks to the designated location. Per Mairon's instruction they began placing the stones one on top of the other in line with the blueprint underneath.
Mairon tied his hair back to better focus and then helped set the stone blocks into the walls. He sawed off edges to make entry ways and carved the stairs leading in.
The levels were adding up, and soon they required ladders. The Maia waited at the top while the wraiths handed off the stone to one another and finally up to him.
Once the roof was finished and everything near completion, and with blisters covering his hands, Mairon stood back and examined the tower.
It wasn't terrible, considering the lack of planning and quality tools. The inside was spacious enough, with wide windows and doorways leading to corridors of hidden rooms. The entrance hall looked out over upper Beleriand.
"It's better than anything we've ever seen!" the wraiths exclaimed.
Mairon shrugged. "It's decent."
Much to his dismay, most of them moved in. But even they, forgotten servants of Melkor, had more of a place here than he currently did.
All he could do now was sit quietly and watch the lower lands through a gap in the mountains with a bleak stare, while telling himself that it could be worse. Although how exactly, he wasn't sure.
He assumed the windows would let in enough starlight, but the inhabitants of the tower prevented any light from entering. Mairon was forced to set torches in every room, and even then the flames nearly extinguished each time one of the residents happened to passed through.
When he came out of the tower to seek word from his spies, the wraiths had gathered together in a circle to converse. As he approached, the circle opened and permitted him inside.
"What is our next line of action?" Ugdun asked him. There was a juvenile giant spider on his head, and he seemed to be aware of it and unperturbed.
"I need to meet with my spies first and discuss plans for attack."
"Well, hurry up. We want to attack Thingol."
He shot them an annoyed glance. "I can always take you to Menegroth and leave you there to fend for yourselves. I wonder how long you will last?"
They crossed their arms and glared.
"How do we know you even have the strength to defeat him?" they questioned. "He is as powerful as one of the Maiar, as they say."
"Continue to doubt me, and we shall see how that fares for you," he warned. "I have powers that are beyond what you know to be possible."
"Do you claim to be greater than the Great One himself?"
"I am he who is nearest him in strength. I can test that out for you, if you would like."
The wraiths took several steps away from him.
Their constant defiance was tiresome. Somehow, he would need to control them through some method other than constant threats. How would Melkor have done it?
His spies were already waiting for him on the hill outside Cuiviénen when he arrived, which he had not been expecting, so he hurried to hear what they had to report.
"We found him."
He knew immediately whom they meant and allowed them to lead him beyond the sea of Helcar, and then through much of the woodland, until they stopped just when he was about to question how much further.
It was a small hut at the bottom of a hill, where water from a stream trickled down into several waterfalls and coalesced into a small lake.
Mairon stared at the modest house. He was certainly more powerful than whomever dwelt there.
"This is he?" He turned to the spies. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. We have seen him, and he is neither Elf nor Maia."
"I see. How often does he leave this place?"
"Not very often."
Mairon smiled. "Good. Then he will not know he's been replaced."
He felt ridiculous dressed like the fay, based on how the spies had described him. His own light added to the effect. Surely, they would not be able to resist him.
The Maia first surveyed outside the real Thû's hut and made sure he was nowhere around, and then he took the path leading to the village that Thû would most likely take.
Through the trees, he could observe the clearing where the Avari sat together near an extinguished fire pit. Their heads were bowed, focused on sharpening their weapons or weaving baskets. The guard keeping watch at the base of the tree in front of Mairon was slumped over and looked to be asleep.
The Maia took a breath and stepped into their view. He lit the fire just by walking near it, and the Elves gasped at the sudden flame, rising to their feet and surrounding him in a circle.
They oohed and awed over him, reaching out to touch his bright clothing.
"Nuin, it is Thû!"
Nuin stood at the back of the crowd and watched, unsure.
Mairon beckoned him come forth, holding out his hand. "Nuin, why do you remain hidden from me?"
Nuin hesitated a moment longer, and then wonder entered his eyes like the others and he took the hand offered to him.
"I knew you would come back for us, Thû! Will you protect us from the shadow?"
"Of course."
"And teach us your magic?" the others asked eagerly.
"Oh yes."
Nuin smiled, and relief washed over his face.
Like children they gathered around him, eyes wide and drinking in every word he spoke.
"I have long been thinking, fair folk, and I fear this village will not defend us forever against the shadows."
"What shall we do?"
"There is no need to worry. I vow to protect you from those dangerous creatures that have tormented you for too long."
They bowed their heads and nodded gravely.
"Now, I have all the required power within me, but what I really need are all of your hands."
Nuin raised his arms. "Our hands?"
"Precisely. The plan will not work without those. And all the materials at your disposal."
"What are we supposed to do with our hands?"
Mairon met his gaze directly. A spark lit up within his left eye, and the Elf came closer to stare at it, intrigued.
"We are going to raise this village from the ashes."
Excited murmurs went around in the crowd, but Mairon quieted them before they could increase in volume.
"All of your participation is necessary. You already possess these capabilities, but I will show you how to harness them."
"Yes, please help us, great Thû," Nuin begged, falling to his knees before the Maia.
So he gathered his followers and took them to the mountain slopes, and taught them how to quarry the rocks into sturdy blocks, and how to fashion the tools to shape them. He demonstrated how the heat of the fire affected the strength of the metal alloys they extracted from ores, and thus showed them how to create more advanced weapons.
Some of them possessed a remnant of understanding, nodding occasionally while he instructed, but most of them watched in wide-eyed wonder and continued to call it "magic".
He went back and forth among them, going to oversee the raising of the walls around the perimeter of the village and then the replacement of the basic huts with fortified buildings.
As he stood over Nuin, watching him hammer in a bolt, the Elf looked up at him, and Mairon could see admiration growing like a flame within his eyes. The Maia returned the smile and moved on to oversee the next worker.
He had to maintain some sort of distance before they got too attached. He also did not know how long his spies would serve him without figuring out he'd been disowned by Melkor, and thus needed to keep them occupied.
He stole away while the Elves were distracted with their tools and endless supplies of ores, losing the disguise when he was a safe distance from the village. His spies were waiting for him atop the hill overlooking Cuiviénen, blending in with the shadows under the pine trees.
"Keep an eye on the wizard," he told them. "And make sure no one tries to go to him."
Only their glowing eyes had been visible, but once he spoke, black smoke rose from the ground and formed their familiar wolf shapes. They responded with a nod, training their eyes on the village with purpose.
Unconsciously, Mairon found himself heading towards the fortress. A part of him was eager to tell Melkor of his success with the Avari.
The darkness was heavier over Ered Engrin, and he saw this was due to the excess smoke pouring out from Thangorodrim. The Vala must have been hard at work, most likely preparing his armies.
His lonely shape stood on the plains and observed from afar. Gradually, and with much reluctance, he turned and prepared to go the opposite way, but spotted several dark shapes going in and out of the nearby mountainside.
He turned his attention there, and soon the persons in question noticed him staring and raised their arms to wave. He squinted, wondering if they were really motioning to him, but there was no other possible candidate. As the rest appeared and joined in, he realized they were the spirits from Mandos.
"Hallo, Mairon," they called to him. "We heard about how Melkor threw you out, but you are welcome to stay with us. We know what it is like to be an outcast and wrongfully accused."
"There are many dark places here, so Melkor gave us these caves to live in," they said once he came over.
He circled the inside of their house, eyeing each of the strange artifacts they collected. There were inscriptions of death and the process of the soul returning to Mandos etched into the walls.
"I know of someplace darker," the Maia said suddenly.
He knew he had their attention without checking to see.
"Where is it?"
"The place I am currently residing. No light survives once it enters. It is located deep within the highlands south of here, above the Mountains of Terror."
"It sounds too good to be true," he heard one of them whisper to the others.
"It does exist. I can take you there, and I only ask one thing in return," he murmured, tracing his fingers over one of the inscriptions.
"And what do you ask?"
Mairon turned around with a pleasant smile. "I only ask that you teach me how to control the dead."
"We are not supposed to teach anyone who is not a follower of Mandos," they explained.
"Understandable," he said.
The Maia walked over to a corner of the room and they peered closer to watch what he was doing. Mairon picked up a knife sitting on a table and held his hand over a statue of Námo, and before their eyes pierced his hand, flipping it over and letting the blood drip onto the stone.
"But what if I am a follower of the cult of Mandos?"
He was hoping they had been influenced by that widespread religion, or at least believed it was legitimate.
They exchanged a look between one another and slowly began to nod, before it became more earnest. "Yes, yes. That will work."
As they were coming up on the location of the tower, the dark-adjusted eyes of the spirits of Mandos took in the sight with much yearning.
"You were not lying," they told him with a hint of surprise.
"Why would I be?" Mairon asked.
"Honoring promises is a thing of Aman. It is not customary here," one said, but then he gave a nod. "Alright. You have kept your end, so we shall keep ours. However, you must promise not to be afraid."
Mairon almost laughed. "And why would I be afraid?"
"That is what everyone says, until they see the other side. Then they try to run, which is not wise if you do not know how to leave the realm."
"Do not worry about my reaction. I have already been in the Halls of Mandos."
They shrugged, and each of the spirits came forward and surrounded him from every angle, forming a five-pointed star. They lifted their hands and linked arms.
Mairon glanced between them with slight uncertainty. The usual forest sounds were silenced, and the breeze that had been caressing his face a second earlier vanished. He cleared his throat and dragged his foot in the dirt, trying to make some kind of noise, but even that was muffled.
Their surroundings had become still. None of the spirits moved an inch, and the trees were frozen and smudged, like they belonged in a painting. The only movement was the subtle, slow ascent of a shadow in the sky.
It grew and grew, reaching higher above them, until it took the shape of a giant wave. The color was darker than night, resembling the black ink dripping from a scribe's quill. Mairon tried to back up to escape it, but to his horror found he was glued in place like everything else.
He tried to shield his face, waiting for the inevitable force crashing into his body, but as the seconds dragged by with nothing happening, he finally opened his eyes.
The wave of shadow had indeed covered the world around him, silently and without any disturbance. It appeared to be the same place, other than the thick, hazy air that prevented him from seeing very far. And it was cold- very, very cold. Somehow even colder than Melkor's fortress, which he did not think possible.
When he looked up, there were no stars, and the ground beneath him – if there was one - was unsteady. He tried to take a step, and then knew why so many others had been fearful- he had almost no control. His legs did not obey his commands, confused by the different laws of gravity that governed here. Panic ensued, and his arms flailed around as he struggled to break free of the hold on him.
The only other time he'd felt such helplessness was in the dark cloud that had carried him across the sea from Aman. Fortunately, by some strange effect he'd been held securely in place then, but now there was nothing to prevent him from floating up into the sky or falling forever down into the abyss.
One of his hands slapped the face of someone beside him, and a firm arm gripped his wrist.
Be calm, a voice said in his head.
His face was turned aside against his will, and he was staring at the spirits of Mandos that had accompanied him- only instead of their usual gray, half-concealed appearance, their faces were bright and completely visible. They were like Námo's: fair, yet pallid and grim, with eyes as judging as the Doomsman's.
And his own appearance had changed as well. The hues of his clothing were obscure, changing color every time he looked, and the ends of his fingertips were grainy and seemed to be floating away. The whiteness of his skin was bright and blinding.
What is this? he said aloud, although he could not hear. Where am I?
The realm of shadows. Or the realm of the dead, as some call it, a voice answered him.
He noticed they started moving away, and he became afraid they would leave him.
Don't think, they instructed, just drift.
Don't think?! He meant to think it to himself, but they probably heard. What kind of nonsense?
He blinked, and without realizing it had floated over to where they waited patiently.
Don't look down. Just follow us.
Mairon tried to do as he was told, but the temptation was too great. Underneath them, the forests of northern Beleriand passed by in a fast blur, barely recognizable in the swirling dark smoke that encompassed everything. He suddenly felt lightheaded and would have started falling, had he not quickly looked up again.
But as they neared the region furthest north, he had to glance down. Stretched out on the plains before Ered Engrin, spirits of orcs and other servants of Melkor were filing in large numbers towards a hitherto invisible path leading across the sea. They were met halfway by a line of Elf spirits coming from the south and east, and the two groups drifted side by side, undifferentiated from the other, as if pushed by a strong wind they were too feeble to resist.
Intrigued, Mairon let himself slowly glide onto the ground and he stood among them, although none appeared to notice him. Their eyes were set to the west, as if under a spell.
The spirits of Mandos came down to join him, watching blissfully as the fëar departed.
Why can I not see this in the realm of the Ainur? he asked them.
It is a realm apart, one answered. He stretched out his hand to the light of the West.
Look. They will disappear from our sight once they reach the Halls.
He observed the fëar vanish as the white light engulfed them, the far-off waves of Aman too far to discern.
You cannot stop them from going once they've found the path, they told him. But you can prevent them from finding it.
Mairon snapped out of his trance when he noticed his companions floating up from the plain, and he turned to follow. This time they led him east, to a forest he had never been.
The spirits of Mandos had gathered around something when he caught up, and as he came closer saw the wounded body of a deer in the middle of a glade. The fëa was pushing out of the corpse, and instead of going to the light, it stayed in the center of the circle, waiting obediently in front of the spirits of Mandos.
They reached out and lifted the fëa, carrying it over to show Mairon. He gazed at it, sweeping his hand around the fëa and watching the light within hum in response.
And how do you control it in the living realm?
The environment changed so suddenly that Mairon was almost overwhelmed by the brightness of the stars and the loud sounds of the forest around him. Dizzy and nauseous, he struggled to stay on his feet.
"You just have to transition between the realms," they answered him with actual words.
Back to their usual forms, one of the spirits of Mandos set down the fëa in the grass in front of him, next to its former body that was now attracting flies. The white outline of the fëa formed the shape of a deer, walking around without a sound and raising its nose to sniff the air.
"And to return it…" The spirit spoke low words he could not hear, and a second later, the landscape of the realm of shadows opened like a gateway before them. The spirit stuck his hand in, pointing towards the path to the Halls, and the fëa followed his prompting. It bounded away on the path until the smoke obscured it from view.
"What are the words you speak to see the other side?" Mairon asked him.
The spirit of Mandos came to whisper the spell into his ear, and a cold shiver went through him.
While the Spirits of Mandos went off to explore the dark places around Ered Gorgoroth, Mairon made his way back to the tower.
As expected, the wraiths were waiting impatiently for him, and bombarded him as soon as he stepped through the door.
"Can't we attack Thingol now?" they demanded.
He pushed past them, remaining calm in the midst of their excitement. "We are to wait until we-" He paused mid-sentence, hearing some strange sound across the room.
Ugdun was sitting beside his spider on the floor and hand-feeding it pieces of meat, while it made slurping noises.
"…know more of Melkor's plans for the siege," he finished.
"Maybe we don't want to wait—" they started to say, but Mairon was ready.
The wraith who had spoken was suddenly lifted into the air and held there, unable to free himself.
The others cowered away in fear.
"He is a sorcerer!"
"Okay, okay! We'll do as you say!"
He relaxed his hand, pulling it out of the shadow realm, and a second later the wraith dropped to the ground. The rest of them scampered out of his way while he walked down the hall.
"We cannot risk even one unprepared raid on Doriath that may compromise Melkor's whole strategy. The Master would be very displeased with us. Is that understood?"
He received a response of several frantic nods.
"You will await my order. Until then, Doriath is only to be watched. No one goes near there, unless you wish to be captured and dwell with the Sindar for all ages. Does that sound preferable to anyone?"
The wraiths made disgusted expressions and shook their heads in vehement opposition.
He had finished speaking with them and began to leave, when Ugdun chased after him through the door.
"Master!"
"I'm not your master, Ugdun."
Heavy rain was beginning to pour down from the mountains and pelt the walls of the tower, soaking the ground into mud. The Maia sought shelter underneath a terrace on the floor above.
"No, I know," Ugdun said. "But He has sent you to help us and thereby renewed my faith in Him. The Great One does remember us, after all."
Mairon gave him a look that could have been pity. "It is difficult to discern what kinds of thoughts the Great One has. Perhaps we will never really know. But surely one as wise as He knows to reimburse those who prove loyal to Him."
A humble expression crossed the wraith's shadowed face. "That is what I think, too."
When he finally returned to the Avari to check on their progress, he found them hard at work creating decorative items, such as golden diadems, bracelets and silver brooches.
"Would you not rather create better things?" he asked the crafters, coming up behind them.
But they were not paying him any attention. Melkor was right. Apparently, Elves were the same everywhere.
The sounds of hammering alerted him outside. Opening the door and walking into the village, the Maia stared in wonder at the results of his efforts.
A well-fortified wall defended the village from almost all sides, and within it were small holes from which spears or arrows could be shot out. The stones in the walls and buildings had been finely polished, such that light reflected off them to illuminate the citadel. There were several Elves fashioning spears out of logs and fitting their longbows with new and lighter arrows. Workers with shovels were currently digging a trench under the wall to direct the water from a nearby river into the village.
The Maia had spun a full circle as he made these observations, blinking in utter disbelief but trying to hide the full extent of it.
Under the roof of the citadel, the Elf with the silver headdress played a reed pipe before an enraptured audience. As his song came to an end, he turned his attention to the visitor.
"Thû!" Nuin's eyes lit up, and with great eagerness he started to run towards him.
Nuin's obsession with him was slightly discomforting. Then again, the Noldor had also idolized him...but he was not their hero. And he was fairly certain that was how Nuin viewed him.
It was interesting, though puzzling. How could he admire him so much in this form, and passionately detest him in another?
"The shadow has retreated!" Nuin reported. "It is because of you, it has to be!"
The Elf beckoned him to a great chair in the center of the clearing and Mairon gratefully sat there, accepting a drink from another Elf waiting on him.
He removed one of his gloves to rub a nagging pain on his left hand, then glanced to the side and noticed Nuin gawking at the scar of a bite mark on his palm. He sprang forward for a closer look, but Mairon had already replaced the glove.
"What is that?"
"What is what?"
"The mark on your hand."
"Truly, Nuin, you are more curious than is right, and it will be the end of you."
The Elf still regarded his left hand with suspicion, and a past hatred had reappeared on his face.
Mairon merely smiled, feigning confusion.
"Can I not see it again?"
"My injuries are no concern of yours."
Nuin sighed, the innocence returning to him. "Yes, I am sorry. It simply reminded me..."
The Maia stared blankly at him.
"It just reminded me." The Elf slowly sank down into a chair, his eyes fogging over.
Mairon reached over and set a hand on his arm reassuringly. "You said it yourself, Nuin: the shadow is retreating. There is nothing to fear."
"That does not change what has already occurred." He searched hopelessly in the other's eyes. "My people are still neglected by the gods and tormented by past memories of darkness."
"I thought you wished for no contact with the gods?"
He frowned. "When did I tell you that?"
"...You didn't have to. I can tell."
"No, I don't. But these other beings, the ones of the shadow, they seem 'godly' too with strange powers. I would rather be left alone from all of these harassers."
Mairon indicated to the well-defended village. "But you would not have all this."
Nuin smiled. "Oh, you know I don't mean you, Thû. You are the only one I can trust."
Soon the Elf insisted on showing him his favorite places to walk, and Mairon acquiesced to go, but was careful to steer him in the direction opposite of Thû's abode.
The river wound alongside the path they took. Nuin stepped lightly over its banks and peered into the tall grasses for things to collect. He came back out with his hands full of shiny pebbles. All the while, the Elf spoke aloud to himself.
"What is beyond the confines of this forest, I wonder? Where do you suppose the shadow comes from? Is it far from the West? There is another sea, they say, farther than anyone here has ever gone. They say you must cross it to reach the West. Isn't that a thought! Another sea, greater than this one!" He indicated past the river, towards the sea of Helcar.
Mairon decided he was expected to answer. "Unbelievable it may be, but I can attest to have seen it. The West is removed from this land, although it claims to have an influence over it. The shadow…is not so easy to define. It seems to have a will of its own and goes whither it wants."
Nuin darted over to a garden of flowers within the brush and began picking off a few of the buds. "And my kindred are still in those lands now?"
"Yes, they dwell all across these lands, some in great kingdoms while others roam wild."
"Tell me, Thû, have you met the Sindar in your travels? Are they lovely to look upon?"
"Aye, the Sindar are very fair, but methinks they try too hard to be so. They forget the beauty they once had, in their beginnings."
The dark Elf seemed surprised, yet pleased, with this response.
"You ask many questions, but now it is my turn to ask one. Why did you not go on to the West?"
Nuin twirled a blossom between his fingers, and his eyebrows knit together in a frown.
"I never found the light so comforting as the darkness. That is, before it was twisted into something so...foul. I had no desire to follow. My heart is here." He sighed heavily. "But I suppose my kindred are happy there now, while we suffer."
"Perhaps not," Mairon told him. "How do we know they are truly happy there?"
The Elf gave him a curious look. Without warning, he broke into a smile and leaned in to wrap the Maia in an embrace. He was close enough that he was aware of various scents emanating from the latter, each one revealing an image of a different place.
Metal and dark, cold places. But there was another...something sweet, something better than the tranquility of Cuiviénen. It calmed and excited him at the same time: it was the light of the Two Trees, but the Elf had no familiarity with it.
And so he forgot all about the faint memory of the cold and metal, and focused only on the comforting warmth.
The Maia was stiff in the embrace, but gradually he relaxed and patted the Elf's shoulder.
"How can I ever thank you for what you have done for us?" Nuin asked as he pulled away.
Mairon gazed upon him and smiled. "I'm sure we'll find a way."
