Maedhros and Mairon sat overlooking a courtyard with a fountain. The balconies in Mandos were usually off limits to the Dead, but that was one perk of being with a Maia. The courtyard they were looking at was where they had first met in Mandos, and so their location was giving them a slightly nostalgic mood.
"It's been years," Mairon commented, chin resting on crossed wrists.
"It has," Maedhros agreed, though frankly, he couldn't keep track of time anymore. He knew from how many visits they'd had though, that the Maia had to be right.
"I remember being so irritated that Námo had set another Maia on me…and then I was so shocked and delighted to see it was you," Maedhros mused. Mairon snorted.
"And I was terrified," he said dryly. "I'd only been here a month, and I was certain that if anyone saw me, or realized who I was, I'd send the entire Halls into an uproar. And then Námo asked me to speak to you, of all people. I had no idea you'd remember me so fondly."
"I hadn't realized it had been so soon," Maedhros said, slightly surprised that there was still more about their shared story he didn't know. "Looking back, though…you clearly weren't well."
"Not in the slightest," Mairon agreed. "And there have been plenty of times since when I haven't been, either." Maedhros wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He looked Mairon over. Truly, the Maia looked much better, especially when Maedhros compared him to their first meeting here. Color had returned to the cheeks and lips of the pale Maia, and his eyes were bright and clear. A mildly pensive expression filled them, but no pain or fear.
"You've healed, though," Maedhros pointed out. Mairon nodded, chin bobbing briefly off his wrists.
"I have, far more than I would have expected in those early days," he said. He turned his keen eyes on the Elf. "You've healed too, though less than I hoped then." Maedhros sighed, leaning forward to copy the Maia's pose.
"I suppose you'll never give up harping on that Oath," he said, his tone filled with far more good humor than his words. Mairon snorted.
"Of course not," he replied. "I think I've proven by now that I care about you, Maedhros. I'm not going to stop trying to convince you to set yourself free, and let yourself heal. Even if it takes the next three Ages, I'm not going to stop." Maedhros smiled. From anyone else, he would have found that extremely irritating, but Mairon was right: Maedhros knew perfectly well that the reason Mairon believed that was his own care for the Elf, and his desire for Maedhros to find the same healing he had.
"You know why I can't," he said softly, his smile fading. "I cannot willingly let so much of my life become meaningless." Mairon frowned at that, sitting up as his brows pulling together pensively.
"Maedhros…" he said slowly, as if trying to formulate his thoughts as he spoke. "Is the past…is the past really worth your future?" Maedhros sat up himself at that, staring at the Maia in slightly confusion, and the odd prickling sense that something in those words meant far more than he realized. With a rush, the Maia's eyes cleared, and he seemed to understand what it was he was trying to say, if not exactly how to say it.
"As long as you cling to the Oath, Maedhros, you are damned. Stopped. Halted. As long as nothing changes, your future consists of this: endlessly existing in these Halls, and me arguing with you. But your future holds so much more potential than that. Riding around Valinor with Fingon when you are both released. Seeing your cousin Finrod again. Helping the Ambarussa re-adjust to life. Giving your mother back three sons instead of two. Perhaps even convincing the Valar to let Maglor come home. But you can do none of that here." He paused for a moment.
"While you cling to what you say gives your past meaning, you rob your future of that very meaning," he said finally. "And so I ask you, Maedhros, what means more to you? The past…or your future?"
Maedhros looked down, unsure how to answer that, and with so many turbulent emotions swirling within him that he didn't know what he felt. It made sense, it made utter sense what Mairon had just said, but it would take viewing the world in such a different light that Maedhros didn't know if he could do it.
"I…I don't know," he admitted at last in a whisper. Mairon smiled compassionately, and slightly ruefully, and patted his arm.
"Well, just think about it, alright?" he said in a much lighter tone. Maedhros nodded, and stifled a yawn.
"Let's head back to your room," Mairon said, seeing that. "You're tired, and I'm due over in the children's hall. One of my little friends there is getting reborn today, and I promised to go see him off." Maedhros smiled at that, not grudging the gift of life to any of the young fëar in Mandos, and the two rose and headed off.
The rebirth of an Elfling was rare. Which was a sad thing, but perhaps fortunate, Mairon mused, as they they were always highly emotionally charged. Or perhaps, if they happened more often, it would be easier on the fëar. The children became such close friends, that when one left, the others mourned the loss of a playmate, as much as they were told this was a happy occasion. And for the one who left, there was also the loss and the knowledge they would not see their friends again for many years, as well as a natural apprehension of what would come next for them. Of course, Mairon though with a small smile, he honestly doubted how much apprehension little Thorion really had, as that Elfling saw him and barreled into his knees.
"Mairon! You came!" the Elfling cheered. Mairon laughed and scooped him up.
"Of course I did!" Mairon said. "Are you excited?" The little fëa nodded enthusiastically, but then sobered.
"But I'll miss my friends," he said. "And you." Mairon smiled sympathetically.
"Yes, it is hard to leave friends, even when you know you'll see them again someday," he said. "But you'll be able to see me again sooner, if you want. I always go to the festivals the Valar hold; if your parents take you to them, you'll be able to find me." Thorion perked up at that.
"Do you think they will?" he asked hopefully.
"If you ask them if you can, I'm sure they'll be able to at least occasionally," Mairon assured him. He truly could not imaging this Elfling's parents saying no. "And maybe when you're grown up, you can offer to let some of your friends here who don't have any family in Valinor be reborn and come stay with you, like they were your little siblings."
"Oooh," Thorion said as his eyes danced with delight, and with a fair bit of scheming.
Plotting? Námo's thought was tinged with amusement.
Always, Mairon replied saucily. The reason it was so rare for an Elfling to be released from Mandos was not that they were not healing; indeed, being so young, they often healed more quickly than the older Elves. But so many of them had no kin alive and in Valinor who could take them. For often, when an Elfling died, it was only after the rest of their family had been slaughtered trying to defend them. And many of them were yet unhealed: and more were refusing to heal. Mairon privately thought that telling them that their children were stuck here until they decided to heal would be a wonderful kick in the pants for many of them, and Istamírë thought the same. They were trying to work out the particulars of how that would work before they tried to convince Námo to let them do so.
But there were still others who's family had not Sailed, or for other reasons were unavailable. Mairon thought it was unfair that they should have to stay dead because of that, and figured the best way to overcome that was to have them be raised by the Reborn friends they had made while dead. That way they would not be all alone with strangers, which was why they had not been Reborn yet in the first place. And bold Thorion was an Elfling Mairon could see doing just that. Mairon smiled as he walked over to Námo, Thorion still in his arms. After all, it was Thorion he had convinced to tag Námo 'it' in that game of catch-me he had played the first day he had come to the children's hall.
Námo smiled as well as he held out his hands for Thorion. He always saw to the re-embodiment of the Elflings personally.
"Are you ready?" he asked Thorion gently as Mairon passed him over. The Elfling was clearly a bit nervous, but he nodded resolutely.
"Your parents are waiting for you," Námo told the child, whose face lit up.
"They are?" he asked. Námo nodded.
"They are in Lórien, and we'll go straight to see them," Námo assured him. "Would you liked to do that?" Thorion nodded eagerly. Námo smiled.
"Then let us go," he said. Thorion turned in the Vala's arms so he could wave goodbye to everyone, having already said goodbye to all of his friends. Then the pair was gone, and Mairon was kept busy, like all the other Maiar who served in the children's hall, soothing sniffling fëar, reassuring them they'd see Thorion again someday, and singing small Elflings asleep.
Mairon stopped before a particular door and knocked. Unlike what he normally did, he waited for the inhabitant to open it. The rooms in this wing were not locked from the outside, but from the inside, and while Mairon had the ability to override this, as did all who served in this wing, he would not do so unless in an emergency. Having lived in very similar circumstances as these fëar, he knew the comfort of a locked door.
The door clicked open, and a fëa looked out cautiously before smiling.
"You made it," Várion said happily.
"I told you I would," Mairon responded with a smile.
"I know," Várion shrugged. His expression and manner was somewhat hesitant, but Mairon was confident it wasn't him. The Maia half extended his hand to the Elf, offering contact but not requesting it. Várion took his hand with no hesitation, and the two set off down the corridor.
There was a room near the end of a hallway that they stopped at. They knocked again, but entered right after. The room was not a residence, but a meeting place for those who were not comfortable in the open. Vairë had furnished it richly, and the majority of those there were sitting together on the floor, spread with comfortable pillows and rich blankets. Many looked up with smiles of greeting, even if some of them where hesitant or shy. Várion and Mairon joined them, finding their own places to curl up, and joining the quiet conversation.
Mairon was still surprised these Elves welcomed him as they did. This Hall was reserved for the former thralls of Angband and Utumno, and a fair amount of those in this room had actually died at his hand. Most had been mortally injured, and he had offered them the only mercy he could. He had been very shocked, however, to learn that those Elves had recognized what he had done for them. He had been even more surprised that there were those clear sighted enough to realize that he had been a thrall in Angband himself, and welcome him into their hall.
Not all of them did, of course. There were other rooms like this, where he did not go. But he had found it remarkably healing to be here with these Elves, to give what healing he could, and to accept what healing they could offer.
"What are you thinking about, Mairon?" Ailin asked with a soft smile. She was one of Angband's longest survivors, having only died when the towers of Thangorodrim had collapsed. Surprisingly, she was not nearly as wounded as many of the slaves of Angband. Mairon has expressed his surprise to Námo and Nienna soon after meeting her, and the Valië had told him it was how she had chosen to see her experiences. Mairon still wasn't sure exactly what Nienna had meant.
"I'm still surprised, I suppose," Mairon answered her with a small smile. "I could have never guessed that any of you would be willing to welcome me here, or to see me as anything other than a tormentor."
Várion snorted, and poked the Maia in the side. Mairon turned slightly to look at him, unable to fully suppress a small amused smile. It was unusual for this elf to be so forward, and Mairon was glad to see it.
"You saved my life, remember?" Várion pointed out. "Without you, I would have lain in that hallway until I died of dehydration or been eaten." He shuddered. "At least when I actually died, it was faster than that." He hunched in on himself, and Mairon put an arm around him and pulled him close.
Ailin smiled sympathetically at them, but didn't get up, as she has a shy elleth in her arms already.
"Várion has a point," Ailin said quietly. "But more than that, we survived by our wits. We had to learn, and learn well, the habits and moods of our overseers. We didn't miss that you did not hurt us simply for the sake of hurting us. Even when you chose to take out your feelings on others, it was never us, and usually not on living things at all.
"We didn't miss that Morgoth hurt all those in his power, simply because he could. We didn't miss that you had to deal with him often. And some of us, like Várion, were able to even see that kindness of yours that you had to keep hidden to survive.
"And once you were gone, we learned that we had been fed because of you. That we had rested unharried because of you. There were many who prayed—to what or whom they didn't know—that you would return. And when you did, those of us still alive saw what it meant for you, and we knew, for all the difference in station between us, that you were one of us."
Mairon mulled that over thoughtfully. He'd been horrified, when he'd been summoned back to Angband, how few Elves there had been left. And not just because they were more reliable in many tasks than the Orcs. He'd not been able to do anything for the survivors, though, other than making sure they were fed and rested again. He'd been too scared to do anything else.
"I wish I'd been able to do more," he said quietly.
"As I wish I had been able to do more for those around me," Ailin said reasonably. "But we did what we could with the restraints we were under. Had you done more, you might have been discovered, and if you had, not only would it have been catastrophic for you, but we would have been shorn of what protection you could offer. You did the right thing. And those of us here—we bless you for it."
"Thank you," Mairon whispered. He'd shifted to lay on his belly while they had talked, and now laid his head on his forearms, much as his might as if he were in his favored wolf-form. Várion was still upright, and he leaned into the Maia's side just behind his shoulder, and began to stoke his hair, occasionally running a gentle thumb over the Maia's ear. Mairon had no idea where they'd learned that such gestures would be so effective on him, as he truly could not see them asking the Valar, but he was humbled and touched as always that had, and would extend such a thing to him.
Ailin had approached him privately, not long after the first time something like this had happened, and thanked him for allowing it. He'd been so surprised and confused by that, he'd actually left her stammering a bit, something he'd not seen any other time. She'd explained that for those more hesitant to accept him, or those just more frightened of him, to see him relax and accept the ministrations offered by those lesser than him helped them immensely. Mairon had merely given her a helpless smile, and informed her there was no strategy in it at all for him, and that such gestures made him feel accepted and wanted in a way that no words could convey. He'd been starved of affection for too long not to whole-heartedly accept it from wherever it was offered. She'd not responded verbally to that, instead, she had just enfolded him into her embrace.
Perhaps some would see it as something below his station, Mairon mused, thoughts just drifting sleepily as the shy elleth in Ailin's arms crept over to lean against his other side and began a small braid in his hair. But it was like Ailin said. He was one of them. There was no need for false dignity here. Just a need to care and be cared for. And that freedom was wonderful, he thought, as he drifted into a light doze.
Mairon sat down on a cushion next to Quentalë, book in hand, and gave a soft sigh.
"Long day?" She asked sympathetically, pausing her embroidery to look up.
"A bit," Mairon admitted. "One of my little friends from the children's hall was released today. That's always very emotional for everyone involved."
"And you'll miss him too," Quentalë commented, laying a hand on his forearm.
"Yes, I will," Mairon answered her. "Hopefully I will see him at the next festival in Valmar, though."
"I'm sure you will see him, if not at the next festival, then one soon," Quentalë assured him. "It seems like every festival, the number of Reborn seeking out their friends from Mandos just gets larger and larger!" Mairon laughed at that.
"That is very true!" He answered. Quentalë smiled, patted his arm again, and turned back to her embroidery. Mairon opened his book. One of the reasons Quentalë had become one of his closest friends was that while she happily chattered away, she also wasn't uncomfortable with silence, and was quite happy to just be with Mairon while they went about their own quiet activities.
Vairë, coming in an hour or so later, had to smile at the picture these two presented. Mairon was sprawled full length on his side, head propped up on his forearm, while Quentalë had moved to use his stomach as a backrest, while she continued her embroidery.
"Time to call it a day, my dear," she said to Quentalë as the Maiar noticed her presence and looked up. "Didn't you tell me that you and Samindë were hoping to make it to the evening market in Valmar today?"
"Yes, we are," Quentalë responded, tucking her needle into her fabric and folding it. She stood and Mairon echoed her, having not been able to move until she did.
"I will see you tomorrow, then," Vairë said, embracing her Maia, who returned it tightly, and then turned to hug Mairon.
"I'll bring you back something neat," she promised Mairon, who merely smiled and embraced her tightly. He'd gifted her plenty of things since that first bracelet he'd made her, his creations growing all the more stunning since he'd been granted access to Aulë's forge again. Vairë noted with amusement that based on the color, she had a suspicion that whatever Quentalë was embroidering was intended for Mairon as well.
"Are you tired?" Vairë asked Mairon when Quentalë was gone. The younger Maia shook his head.
"I napped a bit this afternoon," Mairon explained to her as they left her workshop. "I was in with the elves who endured Angband; I often end up sleeping in there." Vairë hummed her understanding.
"Why don't we go out to the gardens, then, and have Námo join us," she proposed. "We can get someone to bring us what is left from dessert, and something to drink, and watch the stars come out."
Mairon gave her a lovely smile, free from sadness and fear, his eyes glowing with a contented happiness.
"That sounds wonderful, my lady," he said, and slipped his hand inside hers.
So everyone's safe and happy, I can leave things here for a while, right? *ducks* We're coming up on the climax of this story finally, but that does mean I have to figure out what happens. I have a basic idea, but don't have a concrete plan yet. So send lots of review-cookies to the muse, so I can try to get this story finally finished!