Mairon awoke in an instant, but didn't move. He didn't know if it was safe… Warm blankets, soft, even breathing…Oh! He was home. He was home, and he was safe. Stirring a bit, he opened his eyes. Yes, he was in Námo and Vairë's bed, as he had slept for months now. Vairë was gone, but Námo was still there. Mairon felt a bit more of his anxiety drain away with that knowledge.
"How are you feeling, Mairon?" Námo asked quietly. Mairon quickly took stock.
"I'm just a little stiff. Estë healed most of it," the Maia responded. Námo gave him an assessing look.
"How are you feeling emotionally?" the Vala clarified.
"I just want to…can we stay here for a while?" Mairon asked quietly. Námo looked compassionately at him.
"Yes, we can, little one," he said gently. "Why don't we have breakfast here?" Mairon nodded thankfully. His sense of safety was fragile at the moment, and he didn't feel like he should push himself too hard. He knew that if it was necessary, Námo would encourage him to be a bit bolder. As long as the Vala didn't, Mairon would go with how he felt.
Námo gently eased himself out of the bed, and out of physical contact with Mairon, watching intently for the Maia's reaction. The nervous swallow and the slight pallor told him what he needed to know, not to mention Mairon's quick movements to follow him. The bravado of the night before was gone, and Mairon's uncertainty and fear were manifesting in clinginess, something that—despite all the Maia had been through— had never previously occurred. Of course, that was due to Mairon's now good relationship with him, and the security he felt in Námo's presence. Námo spared a moment to be grateful for that small fact, though he wished Mairon had not needed to utilize that aspect of their relationship. Briefly, the Vala fantasized of locking those who had hurt his young child deep in Melkor's old cell for an age or two…but even as he thought it, the rational part of him reminded him that was far too harsh a fate for a Maia, even if they had hurt his little one.
Since Mairon was so clingy, Námo eschewed getting dressed, and pulled on a dressing gown, finding Mairon's as well as he did so. He sent a few quick mental requests to both the kitchens and to Istamírë, then took Mairon by the hand and led him out into the main room, where the Vala's request to the kitchens was already being fulfilled. A few Maiar moved around, laying out a simple breakfast. Námo thanked them, and they responded with curtseys, bows, and gentle words before leaving.
Námo smiled down reassuringly at Mairon, who had edged closer to him at the sight of the other Maiar, then gently pulled him over to the table. Mairon obediently sat, but only began to pick at his food.
"Eat, little one," Námo said gently. "It will help you feel better. You are still somewhat drained physically as well as emotionally, and the food will help." Mairon nodded, and managed a few bites before going back to simply poking the food, and Námo went back to encouraging him to eat.
Finally though, Námo was able to coax Mairon into eating an egg, some ham, and most of a scone, and decided that would be enough for now. They left the food on the table, as Námo wasn't going to put Mairon through dealing with more people right then, and moved to the couch, the Maia curling up in the Vala's lap. At least he had this, Námo reminded himself again. At least Mairon wasn't alone this time.
Istamírë kept her expression calm only with her long experience of hiding her inner turmoil for the benefit of others. Mairon would be alright, and with Námo tied up in caring for him, she needed to keep Mandos running smoothly. That was the best thing she could do to help the situation. Unfortunately, that involved dealing with the Fëanorionnath. And their father. Briefly, she wished she could just leave them all in their cells until Námo could deal with them if need be, but that would tip Fëanor off that something was wrong, and he wouldn't let it go until he figured it out. How that elf managed to get the information he did was still a mystery to her.
She walked to Fëanor's cell, instead of thinking herself there, delaying the inevitable. Failien had already gotten the Fëanorionnath, but Istamírë and her husband were the only two Maiar who had the ability to open Fëanor's cell. Námo restricted access based on how dangerous he viewed the occupant. Fëanor's sons were less restricted than their father, Maedhros in particular.
Istamírë knocked briefly, and opened the door. Fëanor was looking at the wall, ignoring her.
"If you would like to come out, Fëanor, your sons are already in the common area," Istamírë said in a neutral voice. Fëanor gave no indication he had heard her, except that he stood up and sauntered out the door, completely ignoring her. Istamírë gave in to her impulse to roll her eyes at him behind his back, then followed him to the common area they were allowed to use during the small amount of time they were allowed out of their cells.
Once they were there, Istamírë saw that Failien had indeed gathered all of Fëanor's sons, and had already left herself. Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir were all talking together, with the Ambarussa halfway between them and where Maedhros was sitting. Fëanor joined his middle sons.
"Hello, Istamírë," Maedhros said with a smile, one the Maia was able to sincerely return. Maedhros had certainly changed for the better once he'd started talking with Mairon. He was finally beginning to understand that they were trying to help him, not play games with him for their own amusement.
"I like your hair clip," the elf continued. "Is it new?" Istamírë nodded.
"Mairon made it for me," she explained. Maedhros smiled.
"I bet he liked that," the elf said. "He told me once that he had sketchbooks full of things he didn't have time to make."
"I think he did," Istamírë said. She did her best to reply normally, but something in her expression must have alerted Maedhros, who looked at her with a question in his eyes. A quick sideways flick of Istamírë's own eyes clued the Elf that this was not something to discuss in front of his family, and he let the subject drop.
"As always, if you need anything, call for me, and I shall come," Istamírë said, hoping they wouldn't call, and she would be free to do all of the other things she needed to accomplish. Fëanor, as always, pretended she hadn't said anything, but Maedhros thanked her with another smile. Istamírë returned it and left to all the other things she needed to do.
As soon as she was gone, Fëanor looked at his oldest with an expression that put Maedhros instantly on his guard.
"So, you are all sociable now with Námo's lapdog?" he said with a sneer. "Is it all for Moringotto's little pet?"
Maedhros knew better. He really did. But memories of Mairon's helplessness on Thangorodrim as he told Maedhros he was just as much a prisoner as the elf had been, and Istamírë's face as she had told him of the story of how her loyalty to her lord had nearly led to her rape at Morgoth's hands, overwhelmed his better judgment.
"They are not pets, father," Maedhros said. "They are strong in ways you know nothing of."
"Oh?" Fëanor asked contemptuously. "So you would side with them now? Have you forgotten everything we have suffered because of the Valar? Everything done to our people by Moringotto?"
"What do you know of any of that?" Maedhros spat, suddenly fed up with his father. "You died. Leaving us to fight on, to lose over and over again, because you had pitted us all against a foe far beyond our strength. You doomed us all, and did it full knowing and full willingly. The Valar sought to protect us against that. Perhaps not in the best way, but they are not perfect, nor claim to be! They understand what we went through, far more than you do! Istamírë and Mairon, whom you dismiss as pets, both suffered more at the hands of Morgoth than you. And the fact that they survived, and fight on, proves that they are stronger than you."
If Fëanor had still had a hröa, he would have been red with anger.
"You claim the Valar care so much, why did they do nothing when Moringotto killed my father and stole the Jewels," he snarled. "They kept us fenced in in Valinor, keeping us from our birthright—"
"They did nothing only in your eyes, because they were trying to keep all of Arda alive," Maedhros shot back, interrupting his father, something that very few elves would do. But Maedhros had his own fire, ignited on Thangorodrim, and he was not intimidated by his father's any longer. "With the death of the Trees, they had larger worries than your vengeance. Something that I'm sure they could have told you had you bothered to ask. As for the rest of the nonsense you just spouted…well, for somewhat who hates Morgoth, you sure are doing a good job at parroting him!"
"I am not—" Fëanor began heatedly, but Maedhros wasn't done.
"Keeping us from our birthright?" the younger elf laughed. "You would never have amounted to much had they not invited our people to come live with them. You never met our kin who remained behind. I did. We grew so much because of what the Valar did in inviting us here. They protected us. Morgoth might have been gone, but they knew that many of his Maiar had escaped, including the Balrogs that killed you. Seems like a strong enough argument to me that they did the right thing. The only elves that came even close to what we had become were the Sindar, and only because they had a Maiarin Queen! You only became as great as you did because you grew up in Valinor."
"So that is how it is," Fëanor said icily, though the fire in his eyes was anything but. "You would choose to side with them over your own flesh and blood. Will you renounce your heritage and your Oath as well, and become Oathbreaker as well as Kinslayer?"
"Kinslayer I am because of that Oath, and of you," Maedhros said quietly. "And my heritage, too, I gave away with the crown, also for the Oath. Our people deserved a king who could put them first, and I could not. Nay, father, you shall not sway me with such an argument, but fear not. The chains you bound us all with hold me still, no matter how much I wish I might renounce that Oath. But I shall not stay silent when you insult those who seek to free me from the prison you wrought." He turned with an abrupt jerk, and stalked out of the room.
"Maedhros, Maedhros! Wait!" twin voices called after him before he'd reached the second hallway. Maedhros halted warily, as the Ambarussa ran up behind him.
"Were you serious?" Amrod asked, an odd expression on his face. "About wishing you could renounce the Oath?" Maedhros nodded tightly, not sure he could trust his voice. The twins looked at each other, communicating silently as only twins could.
"We don't view our time in Middle-earth as worth something only for the Oath," Amras finally said. "We kept it for Father, and for you and all of our brothers…"
"Pityo, Telvo, Atar knew we would not be able to fulfill that Oath and overthrow Angband when he died, and instead of releasing us from it, he only bound us tighter. He had no right to do so," Maedhros said quietly, trying to keep his emotions under control for his little brothers. "If you are trying to say that you would renounce the Oath, I would encourage you to do so. It only harms us, not Morgoth." The twins exchanged speaking looks again, then looked back to their oldest brother.
"We will do so, then," they said as one. Maedhros looked at them in amazement.
"Just like that?" he asked, unable to stop himself, though he didn't want to discourage them.
"We've wanted to renounce it for a long time, even before we died," Amras said quietly. "We…" He took a deep breath, looking at Amrod for support.
"We kept it for you," Amras finally continued. "We could see it drove you in a way we didn't understand, and we could not leave you to face it alone…" Maedhros pulled them both into the tightest hug he could manage, tears threatening.
"Then, Pityo, Telvo, I would ask you, for my sake, to renounce it and be free of it," Maedhros said when he could trust his voice again. He pulled back to look at them, and they smiled.
"We will," Amrod said, speaking for both.
"Then let's go catch up to Istamírë," Maedhros said.
"Do you think you are up to leaving these rooms, if we stay in Mandos?" Námo asked Mairon gently. Námo had finally managed to get both of them dressed, even though they were now back on the couch. "There is somewhere you have not been yet, that I think you would enjoy seeing."
The Maia curled up on his lap looked up, meeting his lord's eyes. There was something forlorn lurking there, but there was also the trust he felt for the Vala. Mairon examined his feelings on the subject. He might be up to this…
"You'll stay with me?" the Maia asked softly. Námo embraced him tighter.
"Yes, little one," he reassured. "I'll not leave you." Mairon swallowed, then nodded hesitantly.
"Alright, then," he said, still in that quiet, hesitant voice. Námo smiled reassuringly, then urged Mairon to his feet. Hand in hand, Vala and Maia headed off down the corridors. They seemed to be heading towards Vairë's workshop, something that Mairon knew for certain when they came to the corridors and open rooms with large skylights. They were in a corridor that Mairon knew led to the large circular room where the vast tapestry looms were, and the Maia couldn't help be just a little confused. He had, after all, been here before…
But Námo turned down the side corridor Mairon vaguely remembered. Oh yes! He'd glimpsed this one, and it seemed to have led to a library.
His memories were accurate. The room was large and well lit, like Vairë's workshop. Mairon wandered along with Námo at his side, looking at all the different ways the books had been bound, and all the different materials they had been bound with.
Námo hoped that a book or two would catch Mairon's eye, and help distract him. The Maia couldn't run away from what happened, but he needed to avoid dwelling on it, as well. They would stay in Mandos today, and perhaps the next few days, and when Mairon finally did feel secure enough to venture out, Námo would go with him. Perhaps they could go to Olórin's house in Lórien, or perhaps to Nienna's.
Námo suddenly realized that Mairon was no longer with him, and paused and looked back. The Maia had a book open, and was slowly tracing a finger down the lines of Tengwar, mouth moving silently as he sounded it out. Feeling his lord's regard, Mairon looked up and shrugged somewhat sheepishly.
"I learned to read it, but never had any books," he said in explanation.
"Ah," Námo said. "Well, you just need practice then." He smiled at the small Maia. "Does that one look interesting?"
Mairon smiled at the book, then nodded. Námo came over and took it from him, and offered the Maia a hand. Mairon took it, but not without a curious look. Námo thought them both back to his rooms, then sat down in a large plush chair, pulling the Maia onto his lap.
"An excellent way to learn to read is to be read to," Námo told Mairon, who smiled in delight as the Vala opened the book. Mairon followed along with interest as he listened to Námo's melodic voice. They stayed there for over an hour, savoring the peace of the moment, until Istamírë came in, an absolutely stunned look on her face.
"My lord?" she said. "You need to hear about this."
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