This is it for a little while...you see, my wonderful beta has been on an Adventure these last six weeks, and this is the last chapter she was able to do before she left. But once she gets back, you'll get more. :)
Chapter Nine
"Olórin, you have to be the one to tell him," Melian said in a low voice.
"Right now, I'm just resisting the urge to swear," Olórin answered tightly.
"Whether you swear or not doesn't change the fact that Mairon needs to know what's being said about him before he simply overhears it, and he needs to hear it from you," Melian retorted.
"How am I supposed to tell him that some people are saying that about him?" Olórin snapped.
"From whom would you prefer him to hear it?" Melian asked pointedly. Olórin glared at her, then deflated with a sigh.
"You're right," he said reluctantly.
"I'm always right," Melian muttered. "It's just that no one ever listens to me."
"I suppose I should go tell him now," Olórin said.
"The sooner, the better," Melian replied.
"Thank you, Melian, for telling me," Olórin said sincerely.
"I care about him too," Melian said softly.
"I know," Olórin replied, before thinking himself to his home in Lórien, from Melian's home there: a rather short trip. Mairon was sitting next to the waterfall, and he looked up with a smile at Olórin's arrival. One look at Olórin's face though, and the smile froze.
"What is the matter?" he asked tightly. Olórin sighed and sat down next to him.
"I don't really know how to tell you this, Mairon," Olórin admitted. "But there have been rumors going around. About you."
"What are they saying?" Mairon asked, that emotionless mask Olórin hated beginning to slide over his features.
"They are saying that the reason you were pardoned by the Valar was because Melkor tormented you in a more…ah…physical—manner," Olórin said, trying to say it calmly—and failing miserably.
"They're saying he raped me physically," Mairon spat, face dead. Olórin winced.
"More like that you were his lover," he admitted. Mairon's face went blank with what Olórin thought was shock. Then Námo appeared, and Olórin realized that Mairon had called his lord.
"Mairon? What is the matter?" Námo asked, pulling the Maia into his arms. Mairon's only response was a muffled scream of anger and pain. Námo looked to Olórin, demanding an explanation. Olórin shrugged helplessly.
"There are very vicious rumors going around," he explained. "About how Mairon was, ah, involved—with Melkor, ah—"
"In the only way he didn't hurt me!" Mairon finished.
"I see," Námo said. "I'm so sorry, Mairon."
"Why would they say such a thing?" Mairon asked plaintively. "Isn't the truth of what he actually did to me bad enough?" Námo sighed gently.
"Most of the Maiar do not know exactly what happened to you, Mairon," Námo said. "Your scars have become mostly common knowledge, but the fact Melkor violated your mind and soul is something known only to a few—and those few would not speak of it to others."
"I did not expect everyone to forgive me," Mairon whispered. "But I am not hurting them. Can they not just leave me alone?"
"We had hoped they would be that wise," Námo said. "But it appears that some have let their pain spill over into vindictive hatred."
"Then they are not going to stop," Mairon said tightly.
"Not until we compel them to," Námo agreed. "And before we can do that, we must first learn who they are."
"So what do I do?" Mairon asked.
"Live," Námo said simply. "Do not let them win. Those who know and love you will not believe these rumors. Those who sincerely want to know the truth will ask their lord or lady. And even among those who believe it, I think you will find that those with good hearts will be sympathetic towards you. So do not worry, Mairon. The truth will come out in the end. It always does." Mairon sighed.
"We just have to get there first," he commented.
"That we do," Námo agreed. "But no matter what happens, Mairon, remember that there are many who love you dearly."
"I will," Mairon replied.
"Would you like to stay with your brother, or come back to Mandos with me?" Námo asked, preparing to leave.
"Stay with you," Mairon replied, shooting Olórin an apologetic look.
"Good," Olórin said, smiling.
"Good?" Mairon asked in confusion.
"Yes," Olórin replied. "Your relationship with your lord is finally where it should be." He smiled and kissed Mairon's hair. All three stood, and Mairon took Námo's hand as they thought themselves home. Once they were gone, Olórin's smile vanished, and his eyes hardened.
"Now to find those who think it's alright to spread those sorts of lies about my little brother…" he muttered.
Once back in Mandos, Mairon was surprised to find that Námo had taken them to the part of the halls housing the fëar of those who had perished in childhood.
"My lord?" he asked in confusion. Námo simply smiled at him, leading him to a large open space where many of the children were playing.
"Lord Námo!" several of the boldest children cried, leaving their games to run towards the Vala. Námo smiled at them.
"Hello, my little ones," Námo said. "Are you having fun?" The fëar nodded enthusiastically.
"Good," Námo said. "This is Mairon. He's here to play with you." Instantly the children's attention turned to the Maia.
"You're going to play with us?" one of them asked Mairon, who smiled and got down on his knees to be more at their level.
"I guess I am," he said. "What are we playing?"
"Catch-me! You're it!" one cried, smacking Mairon on the shoulder. The children all scattered, shrieking in laughter. Mairon stayed where he was for a moment, frozen in shock, before he laughed himself, got up, and started chasing after them.
Námo chuckled as he watched more and more of the fëar being drawn into the game. These children would be good for Mairon—they would help him regain some of his own lost childhood, as well as help take his mind off the rumors that had begun, and their darker implications. Speaking of the Maia… Námo watched with faint suspicion as a young fëa Mairon had just been whispering to ran over to him.
"Yes?" he asked, the little one's face torn between impish amusement and apprehension. Amusement won out: the child ran forward and poked the Vala in the knee before backing off a few paces.
"You're it," the child informed Námo, who realized the entire room had paused to watch this spectacle.
"Am I?" Námo asked the child solemnly. The child nodded, beginning to look a little more nervous. Námo smiled.
"Well then, you had better run," Námo said. Laughing, the child complied, and the whole room spun back into happy commotion as Námo took off after Mairon, who he knew was behind the whole idea. It took a little while for the Vala to catch the ingenuitive little Maia, but finally Námo snagged Mairon and began to tickle him mercilessly. Mairon laughed helplessly, nearly turning blue before Námo stopped to let him breathe. It took him a few moments to catch his breath, and then he looked up at Námo, who smiled at him.
"You're it," was all the Vala said, and the game resumed. Eventually, though, the fëar tired, and were collected by their Maiarin attendants. Soon, all had been shepherded back to their own rooms to rest. Only Námo and Mairon were left, Mairon in Námo's arms.
"That was fun," Mairon commented.
"You are absolutely impudent," Námo said in mock sternness.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Mairon replied innocently. "You looked like you wished to join the game, so I gave you an excuse to do so." Námo snorted.
"You simply wished to see me act like a child," he said. Mairon grinned.
"That too," he said smugly. "Did you have fun?" Námo laughed softly.
"I did," he admitted.
"And it will make a lovely tapestry," Vairë remarked as she entered.
"You wouldn't," Námo said. Vairë just smirked at him.
"Are the two of you ready to go?" she asked.
"Go?" Mairon echoed in confusion.
"Yes, we are ready," Námo responded.
"Everything is in order," Vairë informed him.
"Then let us go," Námo answered.
"Go?" Mairon repeated himself. Námo just smiled at him, took his hand to pull him to his feet, then thought both of them to Lórien, Vairë following. When they arrived Mairon's jaw dropped. A large bonfire roared cheerfully in the middle of a small clearing. Seated around it were Olórin; Melian; Istamírë and her husband, Almaron; Nyárë; their brother Séretúrno; his wife, Failien; Irmo; Estë; and…
"Finrod!" Mairon said in surprise. The Elf smiled.
"Hello, Mairon," he said. "It is good to see you again."
"But what…what is all this?" Mairon asked, laughter in his voice, as Námo and Vairë took seats around the fire as well, Námo pulling Mairon into his lap.
"Well, I was in Lórien, and I thought I might as well get to see all of my friends among the Maiar, so we set this up," Finrod said. He didn't mention that the bonfire was actually Námo's idea, as the Vala wanted Mairon to have a tangible reminder of all the good still in his life.
Mairon's delight was contagious, and Melian looked happier than she had since her return to the West, as ridiculous stories were shared and good times relived. Many of these tales had occurred before the waking of the Elves, and Finrod learned more that night about what life had been like for the Ainur during that time than he had ever even heard of. The Ainur rarely talked about that time, at least to the Eldar, and Finrod now suspected that he might know more about their lives at that time than any other Elf.
The evening didn't end until Mairon was completely asleep in Námo's arms with a smile still on his face, Melian was almost that way, leaning into Estë, who had an arm around her, Istamírë had her head on Almaron's shoulder, Séretúrno was sprawled on the ground with his head in his wife, Failien's, lap, and Finrod was leaning back against a convenient tree, not too far from sleep himself.
"Well, I suppose we need to get half of these children to bed, and the rest have other things they need to do, I'm sure," Námo said softly, with a pointed look at Séretúrno, who sighed.
"Always someone to remind me to be responsible," he commented with a mock sigh. Failien whacked him lightly on the head.
"You don't need to give Eönwë any more headaches," she scolded him.
"Eönwë's in Middle-earth," Séretúrno pointed out.
"Then who's in charge right now?" Failien asked.
"Of all the Maiar? Ilmarë," he replied. "Of those of us who serve Lord Manwë, Súrien is, actually."
"And do you really want to get on her bad side?" Failien asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Good point," Séretúrno said. "Alright, I get it, I'm going. You don't want me around anymore, I get it…" Failien rolled her eyes while the others laughed softly.
"You know I love you, no matter how ridiculous you are," Failien replied. "But you do need to go serve your lord." Séretúrno didn't reply verbally, but kissed her and thought himself away.
"I don't know how you put up with him sometimes, Failien," Istamírë said. "And he's my brother."
"Well, she is a lot more patient than you are," Námo told his chief Maia, fond amusement in his tone.
"Which is why she is in charge of the Fëanorionnath…if that is the reward for patience, I'm not seeing why I should bother," Istamírë replied with a grin. Failien laughed softly.
"They're really not so bad, Istamírë," she said. "And any time they are…I just send for you." Laughter again traveled around the group.
"Speaking of the Fëanorionnath, my lord, do you want me to continue visiting Maedhros now that Mairon is working with him?" Failien asked Námo.
"Yes, I think I do," Námo said thoughtfully. "I am hoping that Mairon will be able to help Maedhros see things in a different way, and that because of that he will be more open to you, as well."
"Then I will visit him tomorrow…though I suppose I should say 'later today' by now," Failien replied, with a glance at the stars.
"Well then, the party's over, since Finrod is supposed to be heading back to Tirion tomorrow…and I don't want to have to listening to Námo's whining if he falls asleep on his horse and breaks his neck," Irmo said with a smirk.
"Please, my lord, your lack of confidence is wounding," Finrod protested. "…My horse is far more intelligent than that." One more round of laughter, and the group finally broke up, some heading for rest, others for labor, but all with smiles on their faces.
And through it all, Mairon slept on, his own smile never dimming.
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