Chapter twelve
When Mairon awoke, the first thing he saw was Námo smiling down at him, warm regard in his eyes.
"Good morning," he said quietly.
"Good morning," Mairon replied, covering a yawn with one hand and stretching. Námo chuckled softly.
"I had hoped to speak with you last night, but you were asleep before I got here," the Vala continued.
"Oh," Mairon said. "Sorry."
"It's nothing to apologize for, little one," Námo scolded affectionately. "I can just as easily talk to you now."
Mairon smiled softly. He loved Námo's little reassurances that he didn't have to do everything exactly as the Vala had planned. He wasn't even sure that Námo knew just how much that meant to him. It was the first time he'd felt that way in his life—at least in the parts of his life he could remember.
"I'm sorry, my mind was wandering," Mairon said hurriedly, as he realized Námo's smile was growing more amused as the Vala waited. Námo just chuckled, and rand a hand through the Maia's hair.
"First, I wanted to to tell you you've done an excellent job with Maedhros…and Thingol." Mairon blushed, and Námo chuckled again.
"Did you think I didn't know?" he asked his little Maia. "I cannot officially sanction it, since it is against the rules Mandos operates on, but since Melian is one of our own…I'll overlook it. And unofficially, it was exactly what Thingol needed, so well done."
"Does he know who I am?" Mairon asked, blush fading as he realized his lord wasn't upset with him in the slightest.
"No," Námo said. "I'm waiting for him to walk past a tapestry with you in it. His face should be priceless…" Mairon laughed.
"He'll probably hunt me down to figure out why I was talking to his wife!" he joked.
"What would you tell him?" Námo asked in amusement. Mairon grinned wickedly.
"That I was giving her a flower," he said smugly. Námo couldn't help but laugh, imagining what the proud Elven-king would say to that.
"And then I'd tell him it was the same flower she gave to me when we first met," Mairon added, setting Námo off again.
"After that I would probably have to take pity on him, and tell him that there was never anything between us except friendship," Mairon said with a sigh. Námo pulled himself back under control.
"That would probably be a good idea," he said. "He might try to hurt you, otherwise." Mairon shrugged. He probably wouldn't have said any of that to Thingol, anyway. Though it would have been hilarious if he had…
"I also wished to speak with you about something a little more serious, Mairon," Námo continued, the laughter fading from his voice and face. Mairon nodded, going more serious himself.
"You are a very intelligent Maia, so I'm sure it won't be a surprise when I tell you that those who are spreading rumors are unlikely to stop at that." Mairon shook his head. He didn't like the direction this conversation was taking, but he doubted Námo would bring it up unless it was important.
"It was discussed in council, with all fourteen of us," Námo told Mairon. "Since we do not know who exactly is behind all of this, we have no choice but to let it come to a head."
"Will it?" Mairon couldn't help interrupting. "Or will they simply wait in the shadows, not ever doing anything that could be linked to them?"
"Even if they tried, eventually they would mess up and we would find them," Námo assured him. "But we do not think so. What do you think their main goal is?"
"To see me in the Void," Mairon replied, shivering. "It's the only thing that would be enough of a reward in their eyes to justify the rebellion they are undertaking." Námo nodded.
"We believe the same thing," he told the Maia, a grim note in his voice. "They will not succeed, of course. We will not throw you to the Void, no matter what you do. But to accomplish that, in their eyes, they will need you to become dangerous to the population of Valinor."
"So they're going to try to provoke me to retaliate," Mairon said.
"Yes," Námo replied. "And to that end, Mairon, I want you to."
"What?!" Marion asked incredulously. Námo looked at him seriously.
"Mairon, if they attack you—in any way—I want you to fight back." He carefully took the Maia's face in his hands. "You know the difference between justice and vengeance. Do not take the latter road; you know as well as I what that would do to you. But do not lie down and take whatever they throw at you, either. Defend yourself. And if anyone calls you on it, tell them you do so with my full permission. If you ever go too far, I will tell you myself. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord," Mairon said quietly. "But if I were to find myself in such a situation, I do not know if I could find the strength." Námo let go of Mairon's face to pull him into an embrace.
"You are far stronger than you realize," the Vala whispered softly. They stayed like that for a time in silence, Mairon letting all the information he had just received file itself away neatly, his emotions steadying.
"Estayávë is coming up," Námo finally broke the silence.
"You still celebrate it?" Mairon asked in surprise. "I thought after what happened with Fëanor and the Trees, you would have stopped."
"Well, it is not exactly the same date, as the seasons now cycle to Anar and Isil instead of Yavanna's arbitrary decision. But we decided to continue with the festival, almost in defiance of what happened during it." Námo smiled briefly.
"It has become a celebration of continued life in spite of the Darkness that would seek to end it," he explained. Mairon nodded thoughtfully.
"And it still is attended by all," Námo added. Mairon frowned.
"What about those who serve here? They can't all leave," he asked.
"They take shifts, leaving only least amount needed to alert others if something went wrong. But all of my Maiar are able to attend, even if it is not for the whole time. And you will be attending as well." Mairon's frown deepened.
"But I could just stay here, and then more could spend their whole time at the festival," he protested. Námo shook his head.
"Mairon, think. If everyone attends this festival, and you do not, what message does that send?"
"That I'm in disgrace, or a prisoner," Mairon said with a sigh. Námo nodded.
"And that is the last thing we want to say to anyone," he said.
"The Elves are not going to like it," Mairon said darkly.
"I don't care if they like it or not," said Námo firmly. "You have been fully pardoned, and are just as worthy as any other Maia here. They have no say in the matter." He softened slightly.
"Besides, I think Finrod, at least, will be glad to see you. And with his friendship, others among the Elves will soften as well. Arafinwë, I think, will be glad to get to know you better, now that he has heard more of you from his son. And he was never antagonistic towards you."
"No, he wasn't," Mairon agreed. "I was surprised by that, when I met him after the War."
"You see? There will be others, as well, who will be willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, and see what you are like now. It will not be as bad as you seem to fear," Námo assured him.
"And I doubt too many will be foolish enough to say anything if I'm with you," Mairon added, brightening at that thought.
"Or with any of the other Valar," Námo added.
"Well, it shouldn't be too bad, then," Mairon decided. Then another thought struck him, and he frowned.
"What am I going to wear?" Námo chuckled.
"I do believe Vairë has already begun making some plans in that direction…"
Maedhros sat down on the same bench where Mairon had found him the first time the Maia visited him. Somehow, though, sitting here alone didn't have the same appeal it used to. He wondered if he should seek out the rest of his family. But with the new thoughts he was having, the ones softening him towards the Valar, he really didn't wish to be anywhere near his atar. Suddenly, soft footsteps could be heard coming towards him. It wasn't Mairon, though, as he could also hear the faint swish of skirts…
Maedhros looked up as a tall female Maia sat down next to him.
"Hello, Istamírë," he said in surprise. "Mairon said I should speak to you."
"Mairon told me the same," Istamírë agreed. "But he didn't say why. I suppose you know?"
"Not really," Maedhros admitted. "We were speaking about the war. I said…well, I said that I felt like the Ainur didn't understand what those of us who went to Middle-earth went through. And I think ever since then he's been trying to prove me wrong." Istamírë snorted.
"Probably," she said. "Well, that explains why Mairon wanted me to speak with you."
"Why?" Maedhros asked.
"Because I was once Melkor's captive," Istamírë said. Maedhros stared at her in shock.
"It was very brief," the Maia continued. "Though I still have the scars. He's always been fond of whips."
"What happened?" Maedhros asked.
"I…I made a mistake," Istamírë said honestly. "And I got myself and those with me captured because of it. Which Melkor enjoyed pointing out," she added bitterly.
"That didn't change," Maedhros said, matching her tone.
"I doubt he ever really did, except in style," Istamírë said. "But he knew who I was, and decided I could be useful…and started trying to get me to betray my lord. Which wasn't going to happen. I was actually for the most part more furious than frightened. Except for one thing." She paused and readjusted her skirts.
"It was after he had torn up my back pretty badly, and I was…well, I'm not so proud that I can't admit it: I was crying from the pain, and he went into his little 'why are you making me do this' routine—"
"I remember that," Maedhros interrupted in a low voice.
"I think he used it on everyone," Istamírë said quietly."Mairon still struggles considerably not to believe it."
"But I still told him no," she went on in a louder tone. "And so he asked me what I thought would happen if he dragged me, battered and bleeding as I was, before my lord and threatened to rape me in front of him unless he surrendered to him. I was terrified."
"That is one advantage we Eldar had," Maedhros said, looking away. "Morgoth couldn't treat us in such a manner unless he wanted to kill us."
"That certainly was a blessing for you, but I was never afraid of that," Istamírë said. Maedhros stared at her in confusion.
"Maedhros, I knew that if Melkor did as he threatened, Námo would demand me and the other Maiar, and hand himself over without a second thought," Istamírë said softly. "And that is what scared me. I was rescued just after that, thankfully, and I never had to make that decision."
"If you knew he was like that, why didn't you help us?" Maedhros asked, anguish in his voice.
"Because you wouldn't wait," Istamírë replied. "We had concerns we had to handle before we could think about Melkor."
"Your precious Trees," Maedhros muttered.
"Maedhros, if we had done nothing after the death of the Trees, all life on Arda would have ended," Istamírë snapped. "The Trees provided just enough warmth and light to keep Arda alive, if with less profusion in the Hither Lands than in Valinor. So when they died we had to figure out if we could heal them, or if not, how we were going to replace them before Arda perished also. By the time Isil and Anar were launched, you had already made it to Middle-earth."
"So why didn't you help us then?" Maedhros asked, a plaintive note in his voice.
"Because we couldn't, Maedhros, not without making things worse," Istamírë said softly. "When we finally did come, we drowned all of Beleriand. If we had come earlier, the devastation would have been worse. And truthfully, Maedhros…at that point, would you have accepted help?" Maedhros looked down, unable to answer that one.
"I do not wish to disparage your actions, for truly, this victory belongs to you as much as it does to us," Istamírë continued. "But the truth remains that your actions left us unable to help."
"I understand," Maedhros said quietly. Istamírë smiled in sad sympathy, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing briefly before rising with a faint rustle of skirts.
After she left, Maedhros pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He did understand now, but he still wished that he and his people had not had to endure so much…
"Maedhros?"
The Elf looked up but didn't uncurl as Námo took a seat at his side.
"Istamírë is worried for you," the Vala said softly.
"She told me about when she was captured by Morgoth," Maedhros said, chaining the subject somewhat. "Would you really have handed yourself over to him to save her?"
"I have always been protective of my own," Námo replied simply.
"I just wish…I just wish there had been someone there to save me," Maedhros whispered, breaking down into tears long overdue.
"Oh, child," Námo murmured, pulling the Elf into his arms, cradling him gently as he cried.
"And it was my own fault there wasn't," Maedhros said brokenly, tears slowing.
"Now that is untrue, Maedhros," Námo said gently but firmly. "It was your father's decision to leave Aman when he did, as well as to burn the ships. And only Melkor is to blame for how he treated you, no one else." Maedhros simply gave a soft sigh, and laid his head down on the Vala's chest, feeling Námo's hand gently stroke his hair. He felt like an Elfling again, but it was nice, Maedhros decided. He could pretend he was an Elfling again, before all the world had gone mad, back when everything was safe…
"I never felt safe, after Morgoth killed Grandfather and the Trees," Maedhros said quietly. "And it was worse after being his captive. I was helpless…I hate being helpless."
"Anyone who had the misfortune of being too close to Melkor ended up helpless," Námo murmured. Maedhros looked up in curiosity.
"I was never captured by Melkor, but I was directly targeted by him a few times," Námo explained. "It was hardly pleasant." Maedhros buried his head again in Námo's chest.
"I just don't want to be helpless again," he said. "I want to be safe."
"Sometimes you can be both," Námo pointed out quietly. "Technically you are helpless right now, but you are also completely safe."
Maedhros thought about that briefly. He rationally knew that Námo could hurt him, but he hadn't been afraid of the Vala since he had first died, and had known with terrified certainty that he was going to be thrown into the Void. Maedhros shivered and clung more tightly to Námo.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for not throwing me and my family to the Void." Námo's arms tightened around the Elf.
"That would never happen, Maedhros," Námo said, anger in his voice, though Maedhros realized it wasn't at him. Still, it caused the Elf to raise his head and look at the Vala. Námo simply smiled at him, and kissed his forehead.
"I told you, Maedhros, I am protective of my own," he said simply.
Realization that the fierce protective care that Námo displayed for his Maiar was extended to himself as well left Maedhros speechless, so he simply laid his head back down, letting the Vala hold him in silence until he yawned. Then Námo gently repositioned Maedhros so he could stand, the Elf still securely in his arms. Maedhros smiled wistfully.
"I feel like an Elfling again," he said softly as Námo carried him back to his room.
"You may be an Elfling again, if you wish," Námo said quietly. "That is the freedom Mandos offers you. You may be whatever you wish here, without the constraints of what the world thinks of you."
"I don't know what I want to be," Maedhros admitted, as Námo laid him down on his bed.
"Just be yourself, Maedhros," Námo murmured as he smoothed the covers over the Elf. "You do not need to be anything more or less than that."
"I'll try," Maedhros said sleepily, eyes unfocusing as he drifted off.
"That's all we ask," Námo whispered, leaving the Elf to his rest.
Well, now we have reached that interesting stage of being caught up to what I have written...and I'm kinda stuck on the next chapter. *sheepish grin* I might just jump to what happens after, so at least I'm working on this story... But please tell me what you think so far! Review love helps the creative juices flow!