Chapter Eight
"Have fun, Eönwë!" Mairon said. "I'll miss you. Don't eat too much of the Edain's food and get fat!" Eönwë gave Mairon an exasperated look.
"I eat here and don't get fat," he retorted.
"Yes, but here you have sparring partners," Mairon pointed out. "There you won't."
"He has a point, Eönwë," Olórin commented. Eönwë glowered at them both and opened his mouth to say something rather rude, but Manwë broke in.
"That is enough, you three," the Elder King said. "Do you really wish to part with an argument?" The three Maiar fell silent, abashed.
"Are you ready then?" Manwë asked his herald. Eönwë nodded, and Manwë embraced him briefly but firmly before the little party thought themselves to the docks. It had been decided it would be better for Eönwë to show up by ship, rather than appearing from 'nowhere', as the mortals would see it.
Ilmarë was already there, her haughty disapproval of Mairon's presence obvious, which caused the younger Maia to edge into his older brother, who wrapped an arm around him. Eönwë sent her a half stern, half pleading look, and she softened, but only slightly.
"Goodbye, Eönwë," she said sincerely. "At least this time I have the consolation that you are not heading for war, but to teach peace."
"Farewell, Ilmarë," Eönwë replied, embracing her. "I shall not be gone long." Ilmarë nodded and stepped back. Eönwë nodded to Olórin and Mairon, to whom he had already said his goodbyes, and bowed formally to his lord.
"Farewell, Eönwë," Manwë said. "May you find success and joy in your service."
"I thank you, my lord," Eönwë replied. "With your leave?"
"Go with my blessing," Manwë said. Eönwë bowed and walked down the dock to the small ship.
"So do I get to blow you all the way to Middle-earth?" Ossë asked from where he lounged half in and half out of the water. Eönwë shot him a look.
"No, Ossë, you may not," he said firmly.
"Do not worry, my lord, I am the one actually responsible for getting you to Middle-earth," a female Maia named Airemír sighed. "Ossë is merely being irresponsible, as usual."
"If Uinen wouldn't give me grief for it, I'd give you storms all the way there," Ossë muttered. Airemír shot him a look.
"Our lord would hardly allow it," she retorted.
"Enough, you two," Eönwë interrupted. "I do need to actually get to Middle-earth sooner or later."
"Of course, my lord," Airemír focused again promptly, and soon the ship was on its way to Middle-earth.
Mairon sighed from where he was standing, leaning into Olórin, partially in sadness over Eönwë's departure, partially in relief as Ilmarë left as well.
"What more does she want," Olórin muttered.
"I can't expect everyone to forgive me, Olórin," Mairon said softly.
"Perhaps not, but she was once your friend," Olórin answered in a low tone.
"I think that's why she cannot," Mairon said thoughtfully. "I think she might be more willing to forgive someone she knew less well, than accept and forgive that it was I who caused her pain and loss." Olórin looked down at Mairon in surprise.
"You have grown wise, little brother," he said. Mairon snorted.
"Hardly, Olórin," he said. "I have simply had very wise friends. It was bound to wear off on me eventually." The older Maia laughed and they thought themselves to Olórin's home in Lórien.
"I like it here," Mairon commented, sitting by the small waterfall, playing idly with the spray. "It reminds me of our first home in Eä. Is that why you chose it?" Olórin looked at him in surprise.
"You were the one who picked it out, with that exact reason. You lived here too, when we first came to Aman."
"Oh," Mairon said in shock, before he smiled wistfully.
"I guess it was a happy memory," he said softly. Olórin looked torn between hatred, anger, and sadness.
"Are those memories completely gone?" he asked softly. Mairon shook his head.
"Námo doesn't think so," he said. "But I'm still not strong enough for him to attempt to lift the bindings on my mind." Olórin hugged him.
"You will be," he promised. "And until then, you will make new memories." Mairon smiled.
"I am," he said.
"He's going to be attacked: the only question is where and when," Námo said.
"And you cannot see who they are or what they will do?" Manwë asked. Námo shook his head in frustration.
"So we don't know when this will occur, nor who will do it, or precisely what they will do, only that it will happen," Nessa summed up.
"If they have any intelligence at all, which I'm sure they do, they will put their plans into action soon," Vairë said. "The more time that lapses, the more secure Mairon becomes, so time is not on their side. With Eönwë gone, Mairon has just become more vulnerable. It is the perfect opportunity for them to strike, regardless of the form it takes."
"Vairë has a good point," Ulmo rumbled. "Eönwë was one of Mairon's most important protectors, especially among the Maiar. Mairon is, however, nearly equal to him in strength—but will he use it?"
"I don't know," Námo admitted. "He is doing much better, but he is still very hesitant and uncertain. If he were attacked, I do not know if he would defend himself. I am, however, going to give him full permission to do so. Truthfully, at this point, I would rather he fight back than be a helpless victim."
"Would that not risk bringing to the fore some of the darker elements of his nature?" Varda pertinently asked.
"It is a risk, but I truly doubt it will occur," Námo replied. "He fears the darkness he was once trapped in, and he does know the difference between defense and vengeance."
"Mairon never had a vindictive or spiteful nature," Aulë seconded.
"He competitive and driven, but always playful," Manwë agreed. "But that was before Melkor exposed him to such dark cruelties."
"Melkor did damage him," Yavanna remarked. "Will that play into this?"
"If he had not met Beren and Lúthien, I would consider that a much higher risk," Námo said. "But they did teach him what Mercy truly is, and I believe he will be true to those teachings. Their kindness shaped him nearly as much as Melkor's brutality. Without them, I doubt he wold be here at all, and he would certainly not be the same Maia he is now."
"I believe you are right, Námo," Manwë said softly. "So what can we do—and what should we do—to help Mairon in regard to the attacks we know will come?"
"I do not think we can stop them, so what remains is helping Mairon successfully cope with what will be brought against him," Námo replied. "The friendships he has will be vital there—and those are developing. He has Eönwë and Olórin, of course, and he has renewed his acquaintance with Melian. He has also begun to make friends among Vairë's and my Maiar, Istamírë and Nyárë included, though it is slower with those two. I think that is simply because they are our chief Maiar, and he doesn't know how to treat them. I don't think he was close to Nyeleccaner, and he certainly was not close to Gothmog. But Mairon has endeared himself to both Istamírë and Nyárë at any rate."
"And I have not sensed any animosity towards Mairon among my people or Námo's," Vairë added. "In fact, I have asked certain among my Maiar to look for that among our people as well, and they have reported nothing."
Vairë's people, with their skills in story and song, had proven the best at gathering information, and some had become the closest thing the Valar had to spies during the long war, Melkor's mistreatment of his people leaving the Valar unwilling to plant true spies in his ranks.
"They hear nothing of animosity towards Mairon then?" Varda asked. Vairë sighed quietly.
"I did not say that," she replied quietly.
"What have they heard, then?" Varda continued.
"They do not hear a lot because it is widely known that I care a good deal for Mairon, but it seems that the bulk of the resentment from the Maiar is coming from among Aulë, Oromë, Tulkas, and Nessa's people," Vairë said reluctantly. "Aulë's because Mairon was one of them when he fell, Oromë's because of their implacable hatred for all of Melkor's creatures, and Tulkas and Nessa's probably because of their close kinship ties with Oromë's people."
"That makes sense," Varda said calmly.
"We may want to let this all come to a head," Oromë said. "If it just simmers, we may never find out who's behind it. If we let it come out though, we will be able to figure out who's leading this whole thing and deal with them accordingly."
"I don't particularly care for the danger that puts Mairon in," Námo said.
"Do we have a choice to do otherwise?" Ulmo asked. "Short of locking Mairon in Mandos, we've already decided there is nothing we can do to stop him from being attacked."
"No one is asking you not to protect Mairon, Námo," Manwë said gently in response to the other Vala's frown. "But to really protect him, we need to figure out who is behind this. Mairon will weather this, you will see."
"I hope so," Námo sighed.
"Hope has changed the fate of the world," Manwë replied. "We have made it thus far. We will make it through this, as well."
"You're in a good mood, brother," Veryóron commented as the older Maia walked into the room.
"I am in a good mood," Métimo agreed. "Because Eönwë is gone, and that means Mairon is vulnerable."
"And that is good news," Meássë said in a dry voice. Métimo ignored her.
"So what are we going to do?" Veryóron asked.
"Mairon has gotten too comfortable and complacent," Métimo mused. "I think some well-placed rumors should help dispel that. So to that end… Líssi. You overheard Eönwë tell Séretúrno that Mairon had been forced to become Melkor's catamite." Líssi blinked in surprise.
"But I didn't," she protested. Métimo resisted the urge to sigh.
"That doesn't matter," he explained. "All that matters is that people think Mairon was Melkor's little lover."
"Was he?" Líssi asked in a whisper, eyes big. This time Métimo did sigh.
"That doesn't matter either!" he snapped. "All you have to do is tell people that. Can you do that, or is it too hard for you?" Líssi blushed.
"I can do it," she mumbled.
"Good," Métimo said. "Now, what else can we spread…"
And things start rolling...please review!