Chapter Seven
Mairon awoke and stretched. Odd, he didn't remember having gone to sleep in a bed...
"Good morning," Námo said from the chair where he was sitting.
"Is it morning?" Mairon asked, confused. Námo laughed softly.
"It is early," he said. "The Elves would still call it night."
"Alright then," Mairon said, relaxing again as where he was and what was going on made sense. "So what would you like me to do today?"
"I'd like you to visit Maedhros again," Námo said. "After that...I'm not entirely certain yet. I will let you know."
"Alright," Mairon said easily. He climbed out of bed, and padded over to Námo, where he climbed into the Vala's lap and curled up, closing his eyes.
"You said it was still night," Mairon said smugly, feeling the Vala laugh as he let himself drift onto the Path of Dreams again.
Hours later, Mairon was still in the good mood his morning had put him in. Wandering down the hallways, headed for where Maedhros' cell was, he was bolder than he had been in the past, not pausing every so often to see if anyone was around. For one, few Elves would come this way. Two, Mairon had realized that there were few even among the Elves who would be able to tell who he was from a distance. He reached Maedhros' cell and placed his hand flat against the door. It clicked open for him, and he pulled it slightly ajar, knocking and poking his head in.
"May I come in?" he asked Maedhros, who had looked up at the Maia's entrance.
"Mairon!" Maedhros exclaimed in surprise. "Yes, come in." He stood to give the Maia a hug, which Mairon returned warmly.
"It's good to see you," Maedhros said. "If Námo is incessant on sending Maiar to speak with me, I'd rather it be you."
"I'm flattered," Mairon said dryly. Maedhros had the grace to look embarrassed.
"I do like you, Mairon," he said. "I am just tired of all the Maiar who come, who do not understand." Mairon raised an eyebrow.
"What don't they understand?" he asked.
"What it was like," Maedhros said mulishly. "You, at least, were there."
"I was there," Mairon said quietly. "And so I can tell you that you're being unfair. The war you fought was not a new one, Maedhros. It has been raging since the beginning of Eä. Almost any Maia could tell you of what they have lost because of it. Some lost siblings; others, friends. Some merely lost innocence—but you understand how hard even that can be." Maedhros looked down.
"Then why did they not aid us?" he asked in a low voice.
"They did, in the end," Mairon pointed out. "At the time you left...well, I was not here, so I cannot say for certain. But they were not idle—the creation of Isil and Anar attest to that."
"I simply do not see why we had to endure what we did, with no aid from the Valar," Maedhros said.
"Because you chose to," Mairon replied. Maedhros looked down again.
"Do not get angry!" Mairon continued. "I did not say it was a bad choice. Indeed it was that choice that led to the final end of this war—something your valor helped bring to pass."
"But it was not enough," Maedhros sighed.
"No, it was not," Marion agreed. "But neither was the might of the Valar, in the long uncounted Ages this war has been fought. Indeed, it was Morgoth himself that finally ensured his defeat." Mairon grinned. "And isn't that satisfying?"
"I suppose it is," Maedhros admitted with a half smile.
"You see, the world is not nearly so gloomy as you wish to make it out to be," Mairon said, folding his legs. "Morgoth is defeated. This is a time for rejoicing and healing, not mourning."
"Do the dead rejoice?" Maedhros asked sardonically.
"Some do," Mairon said. "All heal—those that are not too stubborn to do so, that is," he added pointedly.
"I am stubborn," Maedhros said.
"I know it," Mairon retorted. "But what is that stubbornness going to gain you now?" Maedhros didn't answer, so Mairon sighed and stood.
"There is no shame in admitting you were wrong, and seeking healing, Maedhros," he said as he left. "None at all."
Mairon sighed to himself as he walked down the hallway. Maedhros was stubborn, yes. That wasn't a bad thing, but part of wisdom was realizing when to let go of the past. He smiled briefly when he thought of the friends who had taught him that. Unconsciously, his feet took him to where their story was displayed on Vairë's tapestries.
It wasn't the smartest thing to do, Mairon admitted to himself as he went. The unembodied Elves could often be found there. But Mairon went anyway. The worst that could happen would be for him to be recognized, then think himself back to his quarters, and calling Istamírë to take care of the problem. He smirked to himself as he imagined what Istamírë would do in that situation.
He rounded the last corner and paused in surprise. Elu Thingol was staring at a tapestry like he wished he could melt into it. That was understandable, as it depicted Lúthien—and Beren. He didn't look up as the small, dark-haired Maia walked up and took a seat on a small stone plinth, crossing his legs, and looking at the tapestry as well.
"They still sing of the strength of her love," Mairon commented conversationally. Thingol glanced at him briefly, then turned his attention back to the tapestry.
"It must run in the family," Mairon continued, undaunted. "Because they still sing of your wife's, as well. I knew Melyanna fairly well, you know. She's very wise."
"And foolish is he that disregards wisdom's voice," Thingol muttered bitterly.
"That's the thing about Melyanna," Mairon said. "She is wise enough to know that even the very wisest do not see all ends. Morgoth is overthrown, and the War that has been waged since Eä's dawn has been won. All choices, those deemed good and ill, have led to that outcome. Who can say whether choices changed may have led to a better outcome? We may speculate, but we will never know."
Thingol looked at him, and Mairon met his gaze squarely.
"She loves you, Elwë," he said sincerely. "She still loves you, and waits for you in Lórien." He stood and walked away.
"You don't want to keep her waiting too long, do you?" he asked as he left. Mairon rounded a corner and almost ran into Istamírë. He froze, taking in her unreadable face.
"Am I in trouble?" he asked hesitantly. She raised an eyebrow,
"What do you think?" she countered. Mairon hung his head.
"I know I wasn't supposed to do that," he said.
"No, you weren't," Istamírë agreed. "However...It might actually get him to stop moping, and do what he needs to do to heal." She smiled suddenly. "So I won't tell if you won't." Mairon stared at her in shock, before grinning himself.
"I won't," he promised. She gave him a look.
"And don't do it again," she said with mock sternness.
"I won't!" Mairon said cheerfully, going his way. Istamírë chuckled, and continued on herself. Mairon traveled halfway down the corridor and froze again, as Námo stood in his path. The Vala raised an eyebrow at the little Maia's expression, but didn't comment on it.
"I have a somewhat unusual assignment for you, Mairon," Námo said.
"Alright," Mairon replied. He took Námo's hand as the Vala led him to his office, where Námo settled in a chair and looked at him seriously.
"Aulë would like to meet with you, Mairon," Námo said. "I told him I would speak to you about it." Mairon looked down, a thousand different emotions racing through him at that.
"Is he mad at me?" Mairon asked.
"No, I do not believe so," Námo replied. "I believe he wishes to clear up the remaining misunderstandings between the two of you."
"Do you think I am strong enough?" Marion asked quietly. Námo drew him close.
"Yes, little one, I do," Námo assured him.
"I don't know what to say to him," Mairon said. "I've never known what to say to him." Námo looked at him closely.
"I think you will find that the words will come when you begin to speak, Mairon," the Vala told him. "Do you wish to speak with him?"
"Do you want me to?" Mairon asked quietly.
"I think it would help you a good deal," Námo said. "But the choice is yours, my little one." Mairon sighed.
"I will do it," he said. Námo smiled.
"I'm very proud of you, Mairon. Come along, then."
"Now?" Mairon asked, panicked. Námo raised an eyebrow.
"Is there any point in waiting?" he asked.
"I suppose not," Mairon grumbled. "I just hope you're right about the words."
"Haven't you figured out by now that I'm always right?" Námo asked, warm amusement coloring his tone.
"Haha," Mairon said sarcastically, taking the hand of the Vala, who thought them both to Ilmarin.
Mairon swallowed heavily, panic setting back in at the thought of seeing Aulë. Other than briefly at his trial, he had not seen the Vala since fleeing Valinor after Olórin discovered his betrayal.
"Mairon," Námo said gently, causing the small Maia to focus on his lord.
"Mairon, you will be fine. And if you need me, I am only a call away," Námo told him. Mairon nodded, and Námo embraced him, kissing his forehead. Then he released him and turned him around, giving him a light push towards the room Aulë was waiting in.
Mairon obediently moved forward, and walked through the door that separated him from Aulë before he let himself think. The Vala was sitting on the far side of the room, staring out the windows. Mairon walked over to him quietly, instinctively stopping just within reach. He meticulously studied his shoes, even though he could feel Aulë's eyes on his face.
"Have you always been scared of me, or were you just shy?" Aulë asked abruptly, causing Mairon to glance up briefly before looking down again.
"When I served you, I did not know how you wanted me to act, so I was shy," Mairon answered. "Now...now I am scared," he admitted in an incredibly soft voice. Aulë sighed softly, and Mairon couldn't help but shiver as fingers were placed under his jaw, raising his face up, holding him as if he were the most delicate piece of porcelain or glass.
"I do not want you to be scared of me, child," Aulë said quietly. "Have I ever done anything to make you afraid?"
"No, but I have," Mairon whispered, closing his eyes. "I betrayed you."
The fingers holding his jaw released him, and Mairon let his head fall forward, his dark hair obscuring his face. He didn't open his eyes when Aulë grasped the bottom hem of his shirt and removed it, nor when the Vala closed large hands around his ribcage to lift him into his arms. He lay limp against Aulë's chest, feeling the Vala's fingers run up and down his spine. But unlike almost anyone else who had touched him, Aulë traced not the scars he carried, but his underlying muscles. That was surprising enough that Mairon opened his eyes and raised his head to meet Aulë's compassionate gaze.
"You are so much more than these scars, my littlest one," Aulë said softly. "So much more." Mairon's eyes filled with tears.
"You never called me that," he whispered. Aulë gently caressed his face.
"No," he said. "But I should have. When you first began to serve me, I called you that in my head."
"I thought you didn't like me," Mairon said.
"Why did you think that, Mairon?" Aulë asked, pain in his voice. Mairon closed his eyes.
"Because you would never touch me. And you never praised me," he said.
"I thought you were frightened of me, my littlest one," Aulë said. "I did not touch you because I did not want to frighten you more. Later on, it had simply become a habit to not to touch you. As for praise... it is not something that comes naturally to me, Mairon. But you always did an excellent job with everything you did for me."
"You told Nyeleccaner I was useless," Mairon said, the trembling of his chin belying his emotionless tone. Aulë closed his eyes.
"You heard that?" he asked, his tone raw with pain. Mairon nodded, unable to speak.
"And you didn't stay to hear what I said next, did you," Aulë stated more than inquired. Mairon shook his head anyway.
"Marion, I refuted it in my next breath," Aulë said in a low tone. "And I said you were far from useless, that I was simply frustrated that you would not show more of your own initiative on projects."
"You did?" Mairon said, tears breaking loose. Aulë nodded.
"That is when... That is when I told Morgoth what he wanted to know," Mairon choked out. "Because I...I wanted to be useful to someone."
"Oh, my littlest one," Aulë murmured, holding the Maia tightly as he dropped his head to the Vala's chest and just cried. Cried for all he had lost because of a misunderstanding between him and the one person who could have protected him from a sadistic Vala's mind games, who could have made sure this whole nightmare had never happened. Aulë said nothing, simply held him until he had finally cried himself out.
"I wish I had known," Mairon finally whispered.
"I wish you had too," Aulë said softly, running a finger down the Maia's spine. "You would have been spared so much." Nothing more was said, Vala and Maia simply staying as they were, their damaged relationship slowly starting to heal.
"How do you want me to treat you?" Mairon finally asked, on the edge of sleep and not as inhibited as he normally would have been. Aulë smiled gently and placed a hand on the Maia's cheek.
"How about as a friend?" he asked softly. Mairon smiled.
"I would like that," he said shyly. Aulë caressed his face, brushing back his hair and running gentle fingers over his ear.
"So would I," he whispered. Mairon smiled drowsily, as he gave in to the emotional exhaustion he couldn't fight any longer. Aulë held him like that for a moment more, lost in thought, before silently calling Námo.
"He's incredibly special," Aulë said softly as Námo appeared.
"I know," Námo replied. "Aulë..." he said, watching the way the other Vala watched the small Maia in his arms. Aulë sighed.
"No, Námo," he said, standing and passing Mairon back to his lord. "You take much better care of him than I ever could." He smiled sadly, and ran his fingers down the side of the sleeping Maia's face once more.
"It is better this way," Aulë whispered, and quietly left. Námo watched him go, compassion on his face.
"Let's get you home, my little one," Námo murmured to the sleeping Maia in his arms. He thought them both back to Mairon's rooms in Mandos—not that Mairon had been sleeping there of late, Námo thought to himself with a brief flash of amusement. He carefully tucked the limp Maia into his bed and left Mairon to his rest, knowing that if the Maia needed him, he would call.
A few hours later, when Námo went to check on the Maia, he was surprised to find that he was not in his bed. Námo quickly extended his senses and found the Maia in one of the small gardens attached to Mandos. Námo thought himself there, and found Mairon sitting on the ground near a small fountain, staring at the interplay of light and water. Námo said nothing, merely sat at Mairon's side and waited to see if he would speak. He wasn't disappointed.
"Aulë doesn't think I'm useless," Mairon said, breaking the silence. "And he never did. Morgoth...Despite everything, he found me useful. And you assure me that I have worth as well. Which means the only person who ever found me worthless was myself." He looked at Námo.
"I'm not worthless?" he asked, needing one last confirmation. Námo smiled. "Quite the opposite, Mairon," he assured the Maia. Mairon smiled.
"I think I am finally starting to believe you," he said.
"Nyeleccaner won't help us," Métimo spat. His wife Meássë raised a contemptuous eyebrow.
"I thought you weren't going to ask him yet," she said.
"I haven't," Métimo snarled.
"Then how do you know he won't?" Meássë shot back. Métimo slammed both fists into the wall.
"Because Aulë has forgiven the little brat," he hissed. "And Nyeleccaner, no matter how much he hates Mairon, won't go against even his lord's implied orders."
"Your brother is Aulë's chief Maia," Meássë pointed out. "They all tend to be like that." She suddenly smiled rather predatorily.
"Of course, for us, our lord has always hunted the creatures of darkness," she said smugly. "Why should things be different now?" Métimo chuckled, calming down, and came to wrap an arm around Meássë, who pushed him away. He merely chuckled again, and grabbed her from behind, holding her wrists so she couldn't scratch him and pulling her close to him, ignoring her angry hiss.
"How useful for us, my love," he said. "And there are still plenty of Maiar on our side. Besides, Eönwë leaves tomorrow. The Valar cannot watch Mairon constantly, so with Eönwë gone, the little brat will be vulnerable."
"It sounds like there is no reason to worry about it until tomorrow," Meássë spat, struggling to pull free of Métimo's hold. He smiled down at her.
"Oh, I do not think I will," he said speculatively.
Yes, Meássë's name is from the Book of Lost Tales, and her character is basically the same. As always, please review!