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Mairon was feeling particularly good about himself. He had not seen Melian look so radiantly happy since his return, and there was a deep peaceful serenity about her now. The flowers had been worth it. Not that he'd be telling Melian that.
Music was still swirling around them, but now the performances were more informal, with multiple groups playing across the fields. In some places dancing had begun. Námo had not moved yet, however, and Mairon was still ensconced in his lap. The Maia was surprised at just how much he was enjoying this festival. Other than when he'd foolishly approached Ilmarë, no one had been rude or cold to him. He glanced up at Námo and wondered just how much work the Valar were putting into making sure it stayed that way. But Mairon didn't have long to ponder that thought, for Manwë was walking up to them.
"Hello Mairon," Manwë said with a gentle smile. "Are you enjoying Estayávë?"
"Oh yes," Mairon responded, smiling at the Elder King, whose own smile grew.
"I am glad," he answered. "Námo, would you mind if I borrowed Mairon for a few minutes?"
"Not at all," Námo replied, helping Mairon off his lap. Mairon looked somewhat confused, but took the hand Manwë proffered. Carefully, the Vala thought them both to Ilmarin, leaving Námo with a knowing smile on his face.
"My lord?" Mairon asked as Manwë led him over towards a chair in a lesser audience chamber. The Vala sat down in it, pulling the Maia in front of him, and looked at him solemnly but kindly.
"Do you know about the Eldarin kings' custom of blessing elflings at this festival?" Manwë asked him. Mairon nodded, still confused.
"Lord Námo explained it to me," he said.
"Well Mairon, we liked their idea, and decided to make it a tradition of our own as well— though I decided to do it privately, so as to not distract from the Elves' ceremony."
Manwë paused to let the implications of that sink in. It didn't take Mairon long, and his eyes grew large.
"Me?" he asked in shock. Manwë smiled, his eyes full of love as he pulled the small Maia onto his lap.
"I can't think of anyone better," the Vala said, gently kissing Mairon's forehead, then pulling him in close to his chest.
The Eldar did not specify who they invoked in their blessings, merely asking that the elfling be blessed. Manwë had distinctly different ideas, and invoked the One above him to bless the Maia he held. Mairon went completely still as Manwë did so, then looked up, a timorous smile on his face, looking like he might be fighting tears.
"My lord?" he asked quietly. "Has…has Atar forgiven me?" Manwë hugged Mairon close.
"Oh, yes, Mairon," the Elder King assured him. "Atar forgave you the moment you turned from the Darkness and started trying to find your way back to the Light. I can see his guiding hand in the events that have brought you home—and I think if you looked, you would see it too." He paused for a moment, before feeling he needed to say more.
"Even through it all, Mairon, you never lost his love," he added, just above a whisper. It seemed to be what the Maia needed to hear, as suddenly the tears overflowed. Manwë quickly thought a handkerchief into existence and handed it to Mairon. The storm was quick to pass, and when Mairon raised his head again the smile on his face was one of pure joy. Manwë realized that his fëa was shining brighter than he had seen it since Mairon's return, and perhaps even before…But of course, knowing as he did Mairon's story, perhaps that made sense.
Mairon wiped his eyes and nose and made himself presentable again, though the joyous smile did not fade. Manwë himself smiled at the sight of it.
"Ah, little one," he said fondly, and ran a hand down the side of his face. The Maia abruptly shivered, and Manwë winced. Fool! he chastised himself. That was a gesture he shared with his brother, and he should have never done it to this Maia.
"I'm sorry, Mairon," he apologized sincerely. "I should not have done that." To his surprise, the Maia shook his head.
"It's alright," he said. "It just startled me. It wasn't really the same. I mean, yes, he did that to me, and your hands are almost identical…but…" Mairon paused to gather his thoughts. Manwë nodded resignedly. He'd learned the hard way after the Battle of the Powers that there were some Maiar who could not bear his touch, as it reminded them so much of his brother. It had taken some Ages to heal enough to allow it.
"But it's not really the same at all," Mairon continued. Manwë looked at him in surprise.
"When he touched, it…it took something," Mairon explained. "It never gave anything. But every time you have touched me was to give. Comfort, or reassurance…you have never touched me like he did." Mairon met Manwë's eyes squarely, sincerity plain to see.
"I'm not afraid of you," the Maia said softly. "And you have never given me any reason to be so."
Manwë's face softened into a surprisingly vulnerable smile. "Thank you, Mairon," he said quietly. "That means quite a lot to me." Mairon smiled up at the Vala with a surprising amount of empathy in his eyes.
"I'm sorry no one seems to have told you that before now," the Maia said. "It still hurts you, doesn't it." Manwë swallowed hard.
"Everyone is rejoicing that he is gone," he admitted. "And I…"
"And you still love him, and wish there had been a different way," Mairon said quietly, with no trace of condemnation in his voice. Manwë nodded his head and closed his eyes, fighting tears. Mairon pushed himself up on his knees so he could get his arms around the Vala's neck.
"I too am a little brother," he said quietly. "And for a long time, I thought my older brother hated me. It's not the same, as I was the one who had fallen, but… I do know something of that pain."
Manwë embraced Mairon tighter, burying his face in the Maia's hair, the tight grip he usually maintained on these emotions undone by the empathy in the little Maia's eyes.
"It does hurt," Manwë admitted. "I just…I just wanted him to love me, for so long…" He took a shaky breath, forcing back the tears.
"But I have been so blessed," Manwë continued, the loss soothed, as always, by this knowledge. "The brothers and sisters I have gained in Eä, the loyalty they give me, even when I do something foolish…and of course, all of you adorable, beautiful children Atar has given us."
He pulled back to rest his forehead against Mairon's, and ran gentle fingers over his ear, watching with a smile as the little Maia's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. Mairon pulled his head down to rest it on Manwë's shoulder.
"I'm glad you like us," Mairon sighed. "It's nice to be liked."
"I'm so glad we were able to save you, Mairon," Manwë murmured, kissing the Maia's dark hair. "So very, very glad. It is the only unequivocally good thing that came out of this last war."
Mairon had nothing to say to that, so they stayed still and silent until the Maia yawned.
"Let's get you back to your lord, little one," Manwë murmured. He shifted Mairon so he could stand, then thought them both back to the fields outside Valmar. Námo looked up with a fond smile at their approach, and Manwë smiled to himself as he handed Mairon back to his lord. Námo's love for his young Maia was obvious.
"Are you ready to go home, Mairon?" Námo murmured. Mairon nodded, yawning again. Arien had gone to her rest, and most of the families with small elflings had left already.
"Did you have a good day, little one?" Námo whispered. Mairon's sleepy but brilliant smile said it all. He tucked his face into the juncture between Námo's shoulder and neck, and his breathing slowed into the rhythms of sleep. Námo smiled and rested his head against Mairon's for a moment, then stood with the Maia in his arms and thought them both back to Mandos. Manwë watched them go with a tender smile.
Métimo watched darkly from a distance as Námo left with Mairon. The Valar had done an excellent job making sure no one could approach Mairon unless they allowed it. Not that he would have wanted to. It would have been far too obvious. He had never been friends with the young traitor. But now that Mairon and his lord were gone, perhaps the Valar would ease up their observation…
The festival was ending, with most of the Elves in the process of leaving or already gone. That hardly mattered. Métimo sniffed. The only good they could do would be if they held animosity towards the traitor, but they seemed to have forgive him. The more fool they! No, it was the Maiar he would have to sway, the Maiar currently in the process of cleaning up…
He went to join them. Just a good Maia, doing his duty. He drifted around, looking busy, looking for just the right group… Yes! There was one, discussing Mairon's appearance, and none of them Námo's or Vairë's folk. He casually joined them.
"It was good to see him look so happy," Fanyarë said with an indulgent smile as she supervised the collection of the small amount of leftovers. Her kitchens had been responsible for most of the food, and they had outdone themselves.
"It was," Tasarë said shyly. She was a rather quiet Maia in the service of Yavanna, and Métimo had never paid much attention to her. Most of the others were Manwë's and from Fanyarë's kitchen, except for Ilsarína, who served Aulë like Métimo's older brothers, and Taurien, who served Oromë as he did.
"I was rather surprised to see him here," Métimo remarked casually as he stepped up and began helping.
"Why would he not be?" Fanyarë asked, she herself surprised. "Everyone is here. Even if they cannot be here the whole time, everyone comes." Métimo shrugged gracefully.
"I simply thought he would be uncomfortable in such a gathering," he replied delicately. "After all, he does not seem too inclined to socialize very much."
"Which is a shame," Fanyarë said with a frown. "I wish he were comfortable enough to go out more."
"Well, if what is being said is true, perhaps it is for the best he stays closely under his lord's eye." Métimo murmured. Fanyarë's frown deepened.
"I have heard nothing even in those ridiculous rumors that would warrant that," she said somewhat frostily.
"Fanyarë, you're an intelligent Maia," Métimo said, pretending like he was dropping a discreet veneer, and speaking plainly. "If only half of those rumors are true, he's a danger. And even if he was forced into a relationship with Melkor and into fathering the Orcs unwillingly, I'm sure that severely unbalanced him! We could be dealing with another long-term game that ends with destruction and death."
"That is a fascinating hypothesis, Métimo," a new voice said blandly. Métimo fought not to blanch at the voice of his eldest brother. He turned around.
"Nyeleccaner," he said in greeting. Aulë's chief Maia raised his eyebrows.
"I am curious," the older Maia said neutrally, " as to just why you are choosing to repeat the calumny that is going around about Mairon."
"I am simply concerned," Métimo demurred. "We do not want a repeat of the last time someone was pardoned, after all." A lazily wafted hand towards the direction of the dead Trees made his point quite clear. But to his surprise, Nyeleccaner just nodded.
"That is a valid concern," he said to Métimo's surprise. "Have you spoken to your lord about it?"
"No…" Métimo hedged. He wasn't sure where this was going.
"Then, Métimo, you are a fool," Nyeleccaner continued in the same factual tone. Métimo bristled, but Nyeleccaner wasn't done.
"If you had spoken to your lord, he would have told you that the Valar have taken certain precautions with Mairon that make them confident that he will not repeat Melkor's treachery. Furthermore, Lord Oromë would have told you that these rumors you seem so delighted to spread are completely and utterly false." Nyeleccaner paused to let that sink in.
"Even if they were true," he continued, "what good would come of repeating them? If Mairon had been hurt in such a way, he would not need us whispering about it behind his back with horrified fascination! He still does not need such slander, even though he was not treated so. The truth of what Melkor did to him is bad enough."
"Yet did he not choose Melkor's service, and thus deserve what happened to him in consequence?" Métimo challenged. Nyeleccaner raised an unamused eyebrow.
"It was not entirely of his own choice," he replied quietly. "He was threatened… and Lord Aulë admits he, too, holds some culpability for Mairon's fall. As, for that matter, do I." Murmurs of surprise broke out at that statement. The two brothers had not been speaking quietly, and they were developing quite an audience.
"Mairon was not welcomed among Aulë's folk," Nyeleccaner went on, ignoring the murmurs. "I did not think he belonged, and made no secret of my attitude. As his relationship with Aulë grew more and more distant, and as Aulë grew more and more frustrated, I did not step in to seek to help resolve their differences, as was my duty. In that, I failed. In that distance, Melkor's lies had more room to be wedged, driving Mairon further from us, and from the light."
"Why did you not welcome him?" Fanyarë asked, a frown on her face.
"Because I thought him too young," Nyeleccaner answered her honestly. "We were quite busy, building all that needed to be built, and I deemed him more impediment than aid. Mark you, that does not hold true now. What we do is not beyond any with skill. If he should seek to return to my lord's forges, I would welcome him gladly."
He favored Métimo with an even, searching glance. Métimo said nothing, glaring, his face burning with rage and shame. Nyeleccaner raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, turning to the crowd that had gathered.
"We still have a good amount to do before we are done here," was all he said, but pointedly enough that the Maiar quickly got back to work. Métimo transferred his glare to the ground, grabbing a table. It was unwieldy, but he nearly snarled when someone else grabbed the other end, until he realized it was Meássë. It was really too soon to start bringing in the tables, but it would get him out of view. He didn't actually have to come back to this—mess.
Quickly, he thought himself along with Meássë and the table to where such things were stored. He roughly shoved the table into the storage room, not caring that whoever brought more tables later would have to adjust it. Still furious, he turned to Meássë to suggest they just leave, when a still figure caught his attention. They weren't alone.
"You're the one who's spreading the rumors," a low voice came from the figure in the shadows. Métimo froze for a brief second, and the voice laughed.
"I am not," Métimo insisted.
"Peace, little brother," Curumo said, as he stepped forward so he could be seen. "Try that with someone who knows you less well. It is not like I disagree with you."
Métimo exchanged uneasy glances with Meássë. What was the older Maia up to?
"We did not spread these rumors," Métimo tried again.
"Enough, Métimo," Curumo snapped. "It was you, or at least your idea. But it is far too timid."
"What would you do, then?" Métimo shot back. A dark flame came to life in Curumo's eyes.
"I will make him pay for what he has taken from me," he said in a low voice. "And when he has lost all, and is forever trapped in the Darkness he so eagerly joined, then I will finally be satisfied." He smiled, predatory and cold.
"You will see, little brother," he said. "One way or another, I am not going to let Sauron walk back to the light he betrayed. He will pay." With that, the older Maia left. Meássë looked at Métimo uneasily.
"What we had planned would allow us to remain in the shadows, to not implicate ourselves at all," she said quietly. "We go up against forces far too great to do otherwise. But what he has planned…I do not think it will allow us to hide our role."
"I fear you are right," Métimo answered, suppressing a sigh. "I would not put it past him to go to the Valar with what he knows if we do not allow him to do as he wishes…and even without proof, the Valar could find out what they wish if they looked our way." Now he did sigh.
"We are committed to the fall, now…"
As always, this chapter was made considerably better by the efforts of my wonderful Beta, Crackinandproudofit. And she did not only this one...but the next *two* as well. That's right, there are another two finished chapters waiting for you! Of course, I really need to be writing my massive capstone paper...which is due in a week...but hey, look, a distraction!