Ilsariel sighed as she entered her rooms. It had been a long day. She was Nyeleccaner's second in command, which meant that with Aulë and Nyeleccaner trying to find any information they could about who had attacked Mairon in the forges, most of the other work defaulted to her. She was more than ready for a well-deserved break. Her husband, Morondo, turned around with a warm smile from where he'd been pensively staring out the window as she entered. They had not been married long, as the Ainur measured things, and it was still a wonder to her to find him waiting for her, after so long alone.
"Tired?" Morondo asked, taking in her posture and expression. Ilsariel nodded.
"The last few days have been hectic," she told him in a weary voice, plopping down on their couch. Morondo sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her.
"Aulë and Nyeleccaner are near frantic, as they're not finding much of anything; all of Valinor is in an uproar, except for the elves, who are completely oblivious, and we're trying to keep it that way; virtually all of Námo and Vairë's people have retreated to Mandos and aren't coming out…" Ilsariel continued. "It hasn't been this crazy since the Trees died, and the Noldor left." Morondo nodded sympathetically. He served Manwë, so while he was well aware of what was going on, it did not touch him as directly.
"And here I was hoping I'd have time to take you to the forges," Ilsariel complained in a softer and higher voice, pulling her head up from where she'd let it rest on the back of the couch to cuddle into Morondo, allowing herself a softness she'd only developed in her relationship with her husband.
"Maybe things will settle down soon, and we can go," she murmured.
"That may not be the best idea, at least not until the Valar figure out who's behind all of this," Morondo said. Ilsariel pulled her head off her husband's shoulder to look him in the face, hearing an odd note in his voice.
"What do you mean?" she asked him.
"I was talking with some Maiar who I knew from…before," he admitted in a soft voice, breaking eye contact as his features pulled into a slight worried frown. "We're all worried…how long will it take whoever is attacking Mairon to remember he wasn't the only one to serve Melkor?"
Ilsariel's breath caught, and for an instant, it felt like the blood of her fána had been replaced with ice. Morondo had been one of those Maiar who had been drawn to Melkor before the Music, and had served him for many long Ages, until he had been captured in the Battle of the Powers. Ilsariel had felt sorry for Mairon, in a distant way, and certainly not felt that he deserved the trouble he was in. But the thought of it being her beloved Morondo, instead of Mairon, who was in all this mess, brought it home in a very real way. Suddenly, this crisis seemed much darker, and far more insidious than it had previously. She shivered, and wrapped her arms around Morondo.
"I had not even considered that you might be in danger also," she murmured.
"I hope very much that we are not," Morondo answered in a low voice. "Yet it does not make sense. Why single out Mairon this way? There are plenty of us who have been pardoned as he was, when the Valar decreed mercy for those captured during the Battle of the Powers. Most of us were far less in rank than Mairon, it is true, but that explanation does not satisfy all that I spoke to." Ilsariel tried to push away her emotions to think about this logically.
"Perhaps because he gave information to Melkor?" she postulated. "That may be seen as a larger offense than simply having made an error in choosing which Vala to serve." Morondo nodded.
"I thought perhaps it is that," he answered. "Yet there are others who did so as well, who were forgiven. There are those who gave Melkor information that were discovered and pardoned by their lords or ladies. There are even some who believe there are Maiar who gave information to Melkor who were never discovered, and still dwell among us while we have no idea. I cannot see how Mairon is that different."
"Other than the fact he comes back to us now, and alone," Ilsariel murmured absently, her mind caught on something Morondo had said earlier. "Could it be that this attack was made by someone who served Melkor and was never discovered? Someone who is afraid that Mairon would know of them, and reveal them? Or could it be how highly ranked he was? How did Melkor organize his Maiar, again?"
"Surely Mairon would have already spoken, if he knew of any," Morondo answered. "And I doubt he would. Melkor was good about not identifying the spies he had among the Valar. The only one who may have known of any of them was Gothmog, and I doubt even he knew many. It was a surprise to everyone except Melkor when Mairon showed up, for instance." Ilsariel hummed a non-committal understanding.
"As for Mairon being a lieutenant, it is true, I do not think any others that highly ranked returned to the Valar," Morondo continued. "As for how we were organized, Melkor had his favorites, who would be ordered to complete something. Those lieutenants would then use the rest of us to accomplish what they had been ordered to do. Still, I do not think that the one behind this knows so much about how Melkor operated, nor do the others I spoke with. This feels far more personal." Ilsariel frowned.
"Then I cannot think of a reason Mairon is being singled out, yet he clearly is," she said.
"The only thing I can think of is what you said, love," Morondo continued. "He returned alone, and later than the rest of us. Yet he is the target of anger that must have festered for a long time. So the question remains: how long until whoever is behind this remembers that Mairon was not alone?"
Ilsariel had no answer.
"This plan of yours is far too risky, Curumo!" Métimo snarled. "What if he had been able to recognize one of us? What if Nyeleccaner had been just a little faster? He would recognize us instantly, and you know it!"
"Well, at least my plan isn't stupid, like yours was," Curumo replied in an insultingly bored tone. Métimo turned an interesting shade of red.
"You, Métimo, in your arrogance, thought you could control the Valar, with your ridiculous rumors," the older Maia continued. "They are not going to throw Sauron to the Void, no matter what you try, or what he does! Have you seen the way Námo looks at him? The way the rest of the Valar act around him? Not to mention, if needs be, Námo is perfectly capable of both protecting and controlling the little brat! Your plan was always doomed to failure."
"And your plan of attacking him in dark corners is going to work so much better?" Métimo asked sarcastically. Curumo sighed dramatically.
"I am going after the weak link in the Valar's defense of the little traitor," he said. At Métimo's imperfectly concealed blank look, he rolled his eyes.
"Sauron, you fool!" he snapped. "The traitor himself is the weakest link. Attempting to manipulate the Valar is pointless. I plan to snap Sauron like an overstressed chain. And then, what options does that leave the Valar? To place him in dreams until the Healing of Arda? To alter his mind until he is happy, but with no more intelligence than a small child?" He paused, and waited for the grudging look of acceptance on his younger brother's face.
"Either way," Curumo continued, a cold, predatory smile on his face, "we have won."
"I am telling you, the attack on Mairon is something new," Námo said firmly. Only those who knew him well could hear the beginning of strained patience in his tone, but that included all who sat in the circle of fourteen.
"Yet you still cannot see anything," Nessa replied.
"No," Námo answered, "but the tactics have changed. Dramatically. Either this is someone completely unrelated to whoever started the rumors, or someone else has taken over that plot when the rumors were killed. But it is not the same person."
"We do not know that for certain," Nessa argued. She would have said more, but Manwë broke in.
"I trust Námo's thoughts on this matter," he said softly and mildly, but with enough authority to end the debate. "Regardless, I am not sure it matters very much whether this attack is connected to the rumors or not. This has gone beyond a level we can ignore or tolerate. This situation has brought to light that there are those among our Maiar who are in poor condition emotionally and spiritually, to the point some are willing to rebel against us. It appears it may have been folly for us to assume that our people could no longer be touched by Melkor's darkness when he fled. This is something we will need to extensively address once we have control of the situation that Mairon is in. Right now, protecting him is our first priority. Námo, do you have the sense that this attack has a different purpose from the rumors?"
"I fear it may be so," Námo said grimly. "They have learned now that Mairon has trouble bringing himself to fight back. This no longer has the feel of provocation, but a true attempt to harm. I fear that they may no longer be trying to make him react, but rather to break him."
"If that is true, what do we do?" Estë asked quietly. "How do we protect him from this?
"We cannot keep him imprisoned for his own safety," Varda said wearily. "We already have attempted to ensure he is not alone. We already have tried to discover who is behind all this. What more can we do?"
"I don't know," Námo whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly. "I don't know."
Silence reigned until Aulë broke it with a sigh.
"I hate to be the bearer of more bad news," he said quietly. "But Ilsariel approached me on a related topic. Apparently Morondo told her that he has been speaking with other Maiar who had once served Melkor. They are frightened that what is happening to Mairon will spread to them as well." At that, Manwë raised his head from where it had been bowed in thought.
"And they do not trust us enough to come to us about it?" Manwë asked, deep pain and sorrow in his voice.
"No, I do not think it is that," Námo reassured the older Vala. He knew that the Maiar who had been mistreated by Melkor had greatly struggled to come to trust the other Valar was very real, particularly Manwë. The Elder King was deeply sensitive to that. Manwë would have been hurt that any of his Maiar did not trust him; if it was one of the ones that had once served Melkor, it was worse.
"It is simply that those who once served Melkor have different reactions to something like this than the rest of them do," Námo explained. "They are far more likely to respond to a non- immediate threat by lying low and not bringing attention to themselves. If it became an actual threat, I think they would come to us. But at this point, the last thing they want is for this to become a widely debated idea, and potentially incite those who are attacking Mairon to do the same to them. And to that end, this needs to stay completely confidential between the fourteen of us." There were nods all around the circle. They all had painfully learned how much damage an unguarded tongue could inflict.
Nothing else of importance was discussed, and as soon as the council was formally dismissed, Námo left. Generally, the Valar lingered, discussing things with one or two others, or talking of less important things, but Námo wanted to get back to Mairon as soon as possible. Vairë stayed, and Námo knew she would tell him if anything of importance was mentioned.
Returning to his rooms in Mandos, he found Mairon sitting curled into a comfortable armchair, staring into the fire, with a mug in his hands. He looked up with a smile when Námo appeared. Yet Námo was surprised, because he'd made a point to not leave the Maia alone.
"Istamírë just stepped out," he explained at the concerned look on the Vala's face. "Apparently Fëanor is causing problems again. Maedhros and the Ambarussa are avoiding him, and he is causing all the commotion he can in retaliation. So I told her to go; that I was fine."
"And are you fine?" Námo asked him. Mairon shrugged.
"At the moment? Yes," he answered. "I do feel safe here. I wouldn't want to leave the Halls, or even really wander around inside them alone right now, but I am fine with being left alone for a time."
Námo studied the Maia, but everything he said seemed to be true. He looked relaxed and comfortable, and had since Námo had entered. His eyes were clear, and there was no sign he was brooding about things. Námo sighed inaudibly, feeling a part of himself that had been anxious and nervous since he'd left the Maia this morning finally relax. The two sat in silence for a while, enjoying the soft sounds of the fire, and Mairon kept sipping from his mug.
"I do have a question for you, Mairon," Námo finally said.
"Yes?" Mairon answered.
"You know that the Ambarussa have decided to renounce their Oath, and ask for release from it," Námo said. It wasn't really a question, but Mairon nodded.
"That will be somewhat formal, but as you are indirectly responsible for their decision, I was wondering if you would wish to be there for it," Námo said. "It won't be a public gathering. It will simply be the fourteen of us, Istamírë, Almaron, Maedhros, and of course the twins." Mairon thought for a moment, then nodded.
"I should like that," he said, "if the twins don't have an objection."
"I doubt they would, and I think Maedhros would appreciate it," Námo assured the Maia.
"I will go, then," Mairon decided. "When will it be held?"
"Two days from now," Námo informed him. "We do need some break between the endless councils." Mairon eyed Námo at that.
"You are rather frustrated," the Maia pointed out calmly. Námo sighed.
"The council today was remarkably unproductive," the Vala admitted. "I do not think I have been to one so lacking in information since Almaren fell. We know almost nothing." Mairon shrugged.
"I cannot say I am surprised," he admitted. "Whoever is behind this plotted it out well. I fear they shall only begin to make mistakes with repetition, or if they grow desperate." It was Námo's turn to eye Mairon.
"You believe they will attack again?" he asked. Mairon nodded.
"Of course they will, we both know that." He caught Námo's scowl and continued, "I like it as much as you do. Yet it is somewhat inevitable. Next time, perhaps, I will actually be able to do as you ordered." The Maia sighed, looking down.
"I am sorry, my lord," he said quietly. "I did mean to fight back…but it was so sudden, and I—"
"No, Mairon," Námo cut him off firmly, moving quickly to crouch by the Maia's chair, pulling his chin gently up and holding his gaze. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I am not disappointed in you in the slightest: in fact, I am very proud of you, and the way you have been dealing with this."
Mairon nodded, silent, and set aside his now empty mug. He stood and hugged the Vala hard. Námo returned the embrace and moved them both to the couch, where he settled himself and his child comfortably. When Vairë joined them sometime later, she found them still like that, Mairon having fallen asleep, and Námo's arms wrapped around the Maia tightly, as he stared pensively into the fire.
A big thank you to Crackers, as always, for her wonderful beta work! Please review!